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wileys-russo · 5 months

Note

for a potential Ellie Carpenter blurb : maybe some domestic fluff where Ellie is exhausted from all that running around after a match-packed week and reader, her girlfriend, takes care of her.

(Any other details would be up to you)

roadrunner II e.carpenter

you crossed your arms tighter as the airport doors opened and a crisp breeze blew through, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you waited patiently.

bundled up in your girlfriends favorite hoodie she'd so kindly forgotten to pack, you definitely didn't hide it, you were engrossed in the smell of her perfume but it just wasn't the same as the real thing and these last two weeks you'd missed her terribly.

coming off the back of five back to back wins in the span of two weeks with lyon ellie had been called up to her national camp for pre world cup friendlies against new zealand.

she'd flown out from france on tuesday night, arrived in australia friday mornning and played the first game sunday afternoon. from the facetimes or phone calls she somehow managed to squeeze in among her action packed schedule you could see the jetlag was affecting her.

you'd never completely understand what she went through to play for club and country of course, whenever you were called back to england for national duty of your own it was a couple of hours on a plane and that was hardly comparable in the slightest.

however you'd warned her time and time again about burn out and listening to what her body was trying to tell her with the insane travel schedule she stuck to throughout the season going continent to continent.

but each time you tried the blonde would only wave you off making a sarcastic joke and often sending your head spinning with a feverish kiss in an attempt to change the subject, though by now you knew her games all too well.

you perked up as a crowd of tired looking passengers burst through the arrival gates standing on the tips of your toe to try and spot your girlfriend, a frown settling into your features as seemingly everyone headed their separate ways and there was no sign of ellie.

"not looking for someone are we?"

you spun around at the thick australian accent, a grin curling into your lips as the blonde stood behind you with a smile of her own. "how the hell did you get behind me? i was looking so carefully!" you laughed as the two of you pulled one another into a bone crushing hug.

"not carefully enough babe, i'm too good at being sneaky im like a ninja!" ellie pinched your sides teasingly as you pulled away with a roll of your eyes, pecking her lips a few times and grabbing her bags, ignoring her calls that she had them.

"shut up and tell me you missed me." you teased, the taller girl sighing dramatically and pausing as if to ponder her next words.

"need i remind darling that i am your ride home and i have the house keys?" you warned jingling them as the two of you made your way out of the airport and toward the car. "missed you so so so much." ellie wrapped her arms around your neck from behind and kissed your cheek repeatedly.

"much better." you complimented with a wink, smacking her hand away as she tried to grab one of the bags off you. "aren't you going to tell me you missed me?" ellie countered with a playful frown as the two of you neared the car.

"mmm but we promised not to lie to one another." you teased, clicking unlock on the car and squealing as ellie attempted to pick you up and spin you around, her bags falling to the floor as she stumbled and nearly dropped you down with them.

"okay! lets not forget you've just flown for two days." you laughed as you shoved her toward the passenger side and quickly loaded her bags into the back. "thats normally my job." the defender pouted as you opened the drivers door and slid inside.

"snooze you lose and you need a good snooze." you smiled softly, leaning over the middle console to kiss her properly and mumbling how much you missed her against her lips, gently grabbing her hands in yours as she tried to grip the back of your need to deepen the kiss.

"i meant it el, home and sleep." you cautioned firmly though not unkindly, the time nearing 8pm anyway. "food, home and sleep?" the australian asked hopefully as you nodded with an amused smile.

"how could i possibly forget that the way to your heart is through your stomach?"

only when you got home after grabbing takeout on the way back, ellie did not want to sleep. "el!" you groaned, dragging your hands down your face as the two of you finished dinner and she insisted on washing up, and then unpacking, and then doing her laundry.

"what? if i do it now then i save myself doing it tomorrow, or you doing it for me!" the blonde replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, the bags under her eyes growing darker and darker with each passing minute.

"ellie, my love." you moved your body to block the exit of your shared bedroom, your face softening as ellie sighed and placed down the basket of washing.

"you're racing around like a roadrunner and you've been on the go for weeks now. we have two days off before we're back to training and you need to rest." you reminded, hands falling to gently clasp her face.

"its nine at night and you've been flying since monday morning, you might feel awake but you look like shit and i can see in your eyes that you are fighting exhaustion. please let me look after you so you're looking after yourself baby." you requested, thumbs tracing the sharp curve of her jaw, bracing as suddenly the tall defender collapsed into you.

"do i really look like shit?" she mumbled into your shoulder making you chuckle, body sagging and melting into yours as you held her tightly and smiled.

"you always look beautiful but today lets just say you look a bit beautifully disheveled." you tangled a hand in her hair and moved to scratch at her scalp as she heavily exhaled and you shifted a little as more of her weight bore into you.

"okay. how about this-" you gently pushed her backward until she was sat on the edge of the bed, her arms moving to wrap around your waist as her head fell to your stomach with a hum.

"-you go and pick a movie, get comfortable. i'll pop your washing on and we can lay down together and watch something until you fall asleep, deal?" you bargained as ellie exhaled heavily but nodded in agreement.

"good." you tilted her head back with your finger and placed a tender kiss to her lips. breaking away you hurried to grab her basket of washing, darting off to the laudry as your girlfriends footsteps made their way toward the living room and you heard the gentle thud of her body slumping into the sofa.

returning a few minutes later you smiled to see her wrapped up in a blanket, blonde hair hidden beneath your favourite hoodie she'd taken with her. "swap." the australian called out as you arrived beside her, sitting up and starting to take it off.

"what?" you laughed as she rolled her eyes and huffed, tugging impatiently at the hem of your own hoodie and repeating herself. "alright alright, needy." you teased, tugging off the hoodie and trading with her, both of you pulling the material over your heads.

"this one smells much more like you." ellie mumbled happily, going to lay down again as you stopped her, slipping in behind her into her normal position of the big spoon. "do you want a drink or anything?" you whispered into her hair as she clicked play on the movie.

"no, just a tall glass of you." the australian replied charmingly with a smile, eyes drooping a little as she fought back a yawn. "always the charmer aren't you carpenter." you teased as she settled herself into you, flipping around onto her stomach as her head rested on your chest and her hands dug into the small of your back.

"oh els no come on!" you whined seeing which movie she'd selected, one of her favorites she'd watched to death and back, and one that you despised and she well knew.

"you'll fall asleep like ten minutes in and i'll be stuck." you complained, her hand moving over your mouth the only response you needed. unable to argue with the adorably tired smile sent your way you melted, pressing a kiss to her nose and grinning as she scrunched it up.

"go to sleep angel." you whispered watching as a few minutes in she was fighting to keep her eyes open, one hand sneaking up the back of her hoodie and the other messing with her hair, your nails raking up and down the toned and tanned skin of her back.

"mm that feels nice baby." the australian mumbled, eyes fluttering closed finally as her body relaxed and her breathing evened out. within a couple of minutes you bit your lip to stop from laughing as she let out a small snore, a tell tale sign that she was exhausted and out cold.

but you'd be sure to tease her for it once she was a little better rested tomorrow.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #ellie carpenter x reader #ellie carpenter #woso fanfics #woso blurbs

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bloodsoaked-gown · 10 months

Text

pt 13(its gonna get small parts because im in a writing slump ) kinda nsfw? idk

@hell-lit011019 @vellhighbandi @pheonix-thefirebird @stranger-the-better

her pov

I tug his shirt and lean closer to his face. We are holding our gaze as my lips are slightly brushing on his lips. My insides are going feral, as if I have no thoughts but him, which is true. I want to call him mine, do things to each other and have secrets between us no one will know. My heart beats are audible, I shudder a breathe I need him, fuck it. I pull him by collar and crash my lips on his, my eyes are shut and it was red, everything felt red and burning, I haven't felt this impatient about anyone. I pull away, I don't want to look at him, what if he, he doesn't feel the same.

His hands cup around my face and he tilts my face 'look at me' he speaks softly, and I open my eyes to find him gazing me, with the same gaze as last Sunday night, making me melt in his palms, he is pretty, his hair is kinda messy. His eyes are dark brown, like chocolat- He pulls me in again, our lips are locked with each other. It feels like a feverish dream. His touch, his hands caressing my face, cupping my cheeks, so tender. My hands have made a place in his hair, and other wrapped around his chest. Our lips are pulling each other with a rhythm of their own. I can barely breathe.

We break apart, he is breathing heavily, so was I catching on my breathe. My heart will burst out, I can feel by blood gushing. It was a sloppy kiss, an impatient one, glad I wasn't the only one hungry like a hormonal teen for him. My gaze starts to roam around taking in every inch of him, his hairs messed up, my hands resting on his shoulders, his eyes wandering over my face. His lips, he is lightly biting with an upright curl, my hands reach out to brush his lips, they are warm, red, red from my lipstick damn, and soft. His hands slips around mine, and he kisses on my palm. My stomach feels a sensation, butterflies, sink in it. 'is it alright?' I ask out of concern, I know how hard it has been for him to be comfortable to people's touch. He leans in my palm and nods with a smile.

We lean in for a kiss again, a slow soft steady one. His hands roam around my waist pulling me closer. My hand found its way to the edge of his shirt while one hovers over his shoulders. He lays down on sofa pulling me on top of him. My hands reach for his skin beneath, my hands want to go all over him. I need him but I hope this isn't too much for him.. I don't want to rush him.

his pov-

'is it alright?' she asks, she cares and remembers things, how can I not love her... I lean in her palm and nod.

We lean in for a kiss again, my hands are around her waist I want to pull her close, I don't know if I deserve her. Her hand is resting around the edge of my shirt. I lean her closer on me, she is over me and her hands touch my skin, It sends a shiver all over my body, her touch is soft like a flower, its just one touch and I fell sparks blasting in my skin. It's different from him, no, no, I don't need to think about him. Focus on Payu. The way she looks at me is different, unlike that, Her hands reach around my necks slowly tracing the edge of my shirt's button.

authors note-

yes ayan is bi, genderfluid but goes with he/him and identifies as a boy for most parts or none on some days. he is traumatized and next part is gonna hurt me :D

*a normal day, BTS*

z: and cut, great job guys

payu: why are we going so slow? *scofffs*

ayan: and why am I being like that????

z: for the plot!

payu: WHAT PLOT. we just want to fuck each other let us be

z: *evil smiles*

ayan: god this person, who let her write our fate?

payu: ikr she is such a sadist

z: im your GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP

payu: yeah YEAH whatever we are gonna make out now if you are done playing around with us

z: you cantttttttt

ayan: we can :) did your forgot *censored tmi*

z:*gives up* whatever you guys do, not on camera.

*loud noises and screams on behind*

Z: umm it feels wrong I will end the recording now, bye guys-

*end of bts

#im severely bored so im writing shit

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peacereturnedtothevalley · 9 months

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fuck it I’m crossposting, here’s my livetweets for palisade 24. I put it on cohost too but I need to Post Everywhere you see

Also if anyone has suggestions on how I should live post spoilers when I have a disease and plan on posting on 3 different sites until further notice please let me know. The answer is to simply stop posting

Anyways

I didn’t realize theres a whole sun mission moon mission situation going on here…. Also I feel actively unwell listening to this the content warning just obliterated normal functions. I too am feverish

ham slurpers

GANG GANG SOLAR COMBUSTION SO GOOD NO SPICY FUCK OFFFFF

Mustard red does npc tiktok im losing m y mind

Everyone taking a big breath with this good roll including me

chimeric cadent… what does that mean…

man fuck off clem theres enough going on

ancient enemy of the iconoclasts… we have been three different people…….. i swesr to god if this is the waking cadent and signet and some third thing i will scream.

Its bug like in some forms. I swesr to god if my signet is still alive theory was right but like this …………………. Bro austin is pranking me right now im being personally trolled

“A third life in this place where life is sacred…” kamala cadence was the one who was hesitant about divines dying… reading the wiki real quick thats the reason why her and independence fell out huh

Actively jokerfying about this

I keep looking at the time hoping they wont have enough time to get to sun party gjshdh

IWAS RIGHT ITS BELGARD CADENT SIGNET. AUSTIN. IM RUNNING AROUND DOING LUNGES I need to catch my breath. I was going to not do capslock for any of my rot13 threads but i do not know how to how could I not

Barricade… Volicity…. Bounty…. Loyalty……….. just listing the ones I recognize

Nooooo back to sun crew

Its really going to explode in the next 20 minutes huh its just going to end when something so compelling happened on the moon party and its going to explodeand everyone dies huh

Im a little calmer at this moment and just being pre-dissapointed and I guess its poignant maybe if it all blows up but like cmon .

This didnt bother me as much but this is probably what people felt about all the divines and ships described in tm ep 00 just being there to die right at the start except its been like 40 episodes of build up

fifteen minutes left

the sun side has felt like theyve been diffusing a bomb since the beginning of this arc and the timer is counting down Fast

Nine minutes left

four minutes

failed roll is here

Okay. Music is on. Things have messed up but no explosion yet. So analyzing the ep, I don’t think they would put on a content warning just to keep spoilers vague (I mean I was assuming this whole time just in case but it does feel irresponsible)

the mass death/genocide warning was probably regarding chimera’s lantern and what happened when the principality decided to “eradicate” the last of advent OR its regarding asepsis’s actions against the equiaxed in partizan. Either way things are bad for sun side…theyve been ending the episodes like this every time so far lmao. But it has not exploded Yet. Imagine if the next ep is like 30 minutes long lmao

I feel like im breathing for the first time in two point five hours

#palisade #palisade spoilers #palisade 24 spoilers

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rush-the-stars · 1 year

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idk what kinds horror in a/b/o you mean, but i immediately thought about the subtle horror in this reylo fic called "Until You" by ever-so-reylo on ao3 (sorry if you dont like reylo. i dont. but i recognize reylo authors can be BEASTS and i just use cognitive dissonance if i need it) where it's like.. horror in the sense of how society limits and treats omegas and it's all very normalized. like the fic describes a marriage pathway, alarms on doors, omegas cant be present to hear the results of their own doctor appointment, how not getting pregnant is reason for annulment, and so on, and it's just so wildly subtle in how horrific itd be to live like this and i think the scariest part is, in parts of this world rn, there are places where women are treated very similarly to this. it's a one-shot and not super long, and Kylo/Ben/whoever isnt a dickbag or anything, he treats Rey well, and the author is good about making a distinction between "this is how it is here" and "that doesnt mean its good or ideal or warranted" which i think just adds to the horror kinda sorta, i dunno, i could see you having fun writing about a similar kinda world

regardless, id love to hear more about how youd wanna add further horror to a/b/o, bc what i was talking about was Handmaid's Tale-adjacent (not that i like Handmaid's Tale bc the author's a fucking terf and also, m'am, that IS how the world is like for many woc in various parts of the world, it isnt "even more horrifying" having it happen to white women too jfc idk if it counts as "apocalyptic" if its happening here and now and no one seems to care tho; but you get what i mean when i name-drop it however. anyway. i digress) and im curious if you mean in a monster-fucker way or sex pollen way or what, i find the concept of a/b/o + horror fascinating so, again, id LOVE to hear more pls ♡

firstly anon thank you for coming into my inbox and taking the time to share all this with me!! it is greatly appreciated!!

now to get into this!! i’m gonna put this under a cut w some warnings just in case!!

cw: sexism, mentions of violence against women/feminist horror, reylo (LMAO SORRY), a/b/o, uh romantic cannibalism, blood

i am so sorry anon i detest reylo lol. and sorry if anyone follows me and likes them </3

also i think this is very fascinating that i mentioned horror and your mind jumped to what is essentially feminist horror! not a bad thing—just something observed!!

i personally read a lot of horror outside of fanfiction and i read a lot of feminist horror specifically. or i see or have been apart of plays/theater works/etc. that feature feminist/gender horror in various ways. i write short stories that are not fanfic about this topic as well, so with fanfic, i tend to avoid this a great deal! it’s an incredibly heavy topic and for a whole year last year, i had surrounded myself in it (and acted in shows where stage violence was enacted on me by men, acted in roles where i was often in distress because of male characters, acted in emotionally straining and difficult scenes) and realized i was actually…very drained. and learned what i liked to see in these stories and what i thought was needless violence against women reiterated again and again as torture porn of some kind. but long story short, fanfic was a reprieve of that for me!!

(i know you’re thinking—but cielo! you seem to love yandere content! and you are right! but i think all my yan content i enjoy is seeped in a warped love rather than a gendered violence. not that both can’t exist. it’s sticky.)

more than that, i am also interested in a/b/o that breaks gender constructs and dynamics in ways and is not just an afab omega enduring societal and personal violence!

the horror i was mentioning more i think had to do with body horror, possession (as in, almost…demonic. spiritual.), etc.! romance as a horror. (“but the horror? the horror was for love”)

blood lust being tied to heats/ruts. an omega, feverish and in heat, slick with blood and wild eyed. some romantic cannibalism with the way a bite is for claiming. it’s vampiric. it’s a devouring.

it’s a conjoining. a possession. two souls being forcibly twisted together. the horror of having only one true mate that you cannot choose. that is, for better or for worse, only yours. the horror of not just being yourself anymore, but someone else and vice versa. your uncontrollable “other half”.

sublime heats/ruts where you cannot tell what is real or not, shaky snapshots of mind melting ache and pain, only relieved by one person. hallucinations or ailments that come from deeply lonely and isolated omegas and alphas. nightmares when it reaches a fever pitch.

omegas with needle sharp teeth and so much hunger that need to feed and take relentlessly from alphas. omegas and alphas with eyes that glow in the dark and watch too keenly.

rituals where heats/ruts are watched, the horror of bareness and vulnerability. the horror of being an animal in a human skin. of your own desire or pleasure.

also just the horror of being dependent on someone. of needing someone so greatly you’ll be sick with it. the horror of being powerless to their love. the horror of their power over you. or yours over them.

the twisted care. i am interested in strange/more uncommon dynamics; alphas who are nurturing and motherly in awful ways. who hand feed and coddle and smother. omegas who are possessive and violent towards other alphas or omegas.

i just think there is A LOT that could be played with. thought of. messed around with.

i also think we don’t see enough historical au with a/b/o….i’m thinking also gothic-style. western man vs. nature. cowboy a/b/o…victorian…ancient civilization….etc.

anyways, i hope you don’t take this as me like scolding you or hating on what you’ve said in any way—defs not that!! i just had a different sort of horror in mind!! like i said, fanfic for me is all about romance at its core! it’s a reprieve and escape from the work and art that often is very serious and heavy (whether feminist/gender horror, capitalist horror, etc. etc.) that i usually spend my time creating or apart of in my day to day life! it’s deeply important work to me, just not something i wanna do here really!!

#anon thank you for your thoughts!!!#i am so sorry i hate reylo a great deal </3 #i just dislike kylo ren a lot sorry sorry sorry #star wars is a whole other can of worms i CANNOT open #ANYWAYS!#sorry this got rambly and long!!#i can also elaborate or answer other questions i’m not scared of a healthy back and forth #just my thoughts on it all!#cielo chats!#cielo rambles!

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atherix · 1 year

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god im so ready for sick fic my guilty pleasure - RATTLING YOU, HOWEVER. GOD. GOD.

Grian's watcher abilities seem to truly be coming in now huh. That nightmare was way to pointed directly at how wrong and cold and sick Scar was. *squints*

But also redscape cuddling in bed, and the fact that mumbo wouldnt notice scar being cold or weird because him and grian feel warm to mumbo im lkdfsgadf i am normal about this. And the way he SNAPS awake??????

God and the fact that Scar was slurring and BARELY there tugged at my heart strings im. fdlshksakdfh And poor Grian just sat there like. Not knowing what to do, just trying to keep Scar with him, trying to comfort himself with that third anniversary im. IM. AM I SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL???

Ooooh and the magic monitor is so cool. The fact that Mumbo got it from Cleo is making me want to shake you I want more cleo content in my life lkdfsahdfkhl. But also i love how you made it so its not a like direct - know EXACTLY what the levels are at all times kind of monitor but more like something a trained eye would use and yet flux was still visible to them. LDKFADFHKL I am feeling emotional about them thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Sick Fic :D Also. Rattle all you want that will not change what is to happen hehe-

:) I love dream-based magics. But also I wonder if it's deeper than dream magic, huh.

Look I was delighting in writing about them cuddling and just Grian enjoying the view it's so disappointing that the moment was completely ruined <3 Yes, Mumbo is cold, he definitely would not notice if they were cold or even feverish because they always feel very warm to him 😔 which is usually delightful but such a downfall when one of them is sick JHFSJK Of course he snap awake, he is the Lord of this Coven and also that's his mate 😌 Totally has nothing to do with the fact that he is hyper aware of the fact that Scar can easily just implode on himself hjgfdlkfsd-

I wonder what's worse, the slurred speech and the barely-there moments or the hyper clarity that comes with magic highs where he is completely aware of his surroundings but is in too much pain and too weak to do anything about it :) But ye hjfdsjkgjkdskj just HHHHHHH 😔 BUT YEAH GRIAN HANGING ON TO THAT THIRD ANNIVERSARY, and the comforting little words (comforting himself, moreso, because Scar isn't even awake to hear him...) and just hjfdjkjkfgdskj YOU CANNOT BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS

I might write a tumblr exclusive about that little meeting. I mean imagine you're Cleo, it's the middle of the day and only your Coven's daywalkers are up and about, and then fuckin' Mumbo Jumbo shadow-walks into your living room and scares some of your Turnlings and you go to confront him in your sleepclothes, not even properly dressed, and HE'S in HIS sleepclothes which is immediately alarming bc you have never seen this man without a tie and perfectly pressed suit before, and you can't even get a word out before he's saying "something is wrong with Scar I need to borrow a magic monitor pls pls pls I think he might have Flux but I don't have anything to test it-" and just ZJKSKLSA Mumbo is not a trained eye but my GOD was it noticeable. It's less noticeable in individuals who are capable of less magic but when your range for magic production is naught to "can make FAE STARS and maintain the entire Fae Realm if he could survive long enough" then it gets very noticeable very fast...... and of course a bout with Flux will only cause a more painful stabilization as his core tries to keep up (I mean. That is basically what Flux is- a stabilization that destabilized bc the jump is too much hjkfdsk) and starts producing even more magic. Mmmm death loop parallel my beloathed.

M3 thank you for feeling totally normal about them <3 I love them all so much and playing with magic is so fun and also I am a sucker for characters taking care of a loved one who is potentially deathly ill hjkgfdjkgfkdj <3

#ask #Midnight Series #hermitshipping #mumscarian #I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT ALL OF THIS #Also fun fact did anyone pick up the fact that Scar's magic stabilization parallels his death loops #'use a lot of magic and the core produces more which means he has to use MORE magic to balance it but then the core just produces MORE'#which will eventually kill him #can't have a real death loop bc this isn't a respawn world so there we go we get a Scar death loop in spirit #anyway I rambled a lot in here apologies <3 #but hhhhhh kfgsdjkgfdjkl

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hematomes · 2 years

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SCREAMING INTO YOUR ASK INBOX HIRA IS UNDENIABLY A GOOD BOY

also. that sucks i am very sorry,, like was the dysphoria not enough did we have to add the excruciating pain??? whacks the culprit with a rolled up newspaper

that bitch is never gentle with me im always dizzy and feverish and in pain and also. we are at that time where it’s ambiguous abt whether i run out of meds or not bc my doctor has to renew my prescription,, but it’s like,, after i run out of it. so i will just,, im not sure if i can do anything about it but. it may mean i have to stop taking it for a month and then start taking it again? blinks

AJSJD DW WILL TAKE BREAKS YES <3

hands u this nice photo from when i visited the botanical gardens 💐

some text might show up twice my phone is being odd

CRIES THANK U HARA THAT'S <333

yeah fr zkdkz it's rare that i get such rough 1st days, thankfully it only gets better as it goes so the worst should be behind me

that sounds. extremely complicated w the meds. also SUCKS w the dizziness and shit, i hate how bodies work. that's not normal. it's not even supposed to hurt at all why is it like this???? WHY

omg the pic is so pretty i,,, am transfixed thank u for this

#[☂️] hara / 💜

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ihaveissuesbutthatsokay · 3 years

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EREMIN URBAN FANTASY (I THINK???) AU!!!

WARNING : strong language, mention of blood, of a missing person, grief and mention of depression

The forest. That's what everyone called it. But It wasn't really a forest.

Not a normal one, anyway.

There was something inside. Something sinister. Everyone could feel it the moment they entered. You could feel it the moment you entered, the air suddenly getting colder, shivers forming up your skin, and feeling a burning hole behind your head where you swore you could feel something, someone, watching your every step, your every movement, your every breath.

You were known as the boy who seeked freedom.

People tried to venture into the forest. Dreaming of exploration, dreaming to see what awaited on the other side of the forest. That's why the town folks would prepare expeditions to go outside.

After all, being trapped in a small town with nothing but a wide forest to keep you company, that's not freedom. It was almost as if the forest wanted to keep you tight, too afraid to let go, too afraid to watch you wither away. But you wanted to go away. You hated this small town, this confined space.

No one came out alive in the forest.

That's why the town stopped entering the forest altogether. It was too dangerous. Too reckless. But you were the boy who seeked freedom. You wouldn't give up.

Why do you never give up, goddamnit!

You were reckless, naive, young. You thought the world bended at your own rules. You thought you and your friends, together, would be untouchable.

I was wrong.

That's right. You were wrong.

And that's why you will always hate yourself for dragging your friends into this mess. That's why you wished you weren't the boy who seeked freedom after all.

----

Armin couldn't sleep. Not that it was something unusual. He could barely sleep these past few years, with school work piling up, finals right around the corner, and generally just life being a complete shithole of a mess.

He had three unfinished assignments due tomorrow. And it was already 3 am. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus. He could feel his eyelids closing up by themselves, his hand loosening up on his pen, his head about to drop on his desk---

He sighed in defeat, and stood up from his chair more violently than it was necessary.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

He made a face,just thinking about drinking it. He hated the bitterness that crap had to offer, the sensation of his tongue being burned while he tried to chug it into one go, as he wanted to be done with it.

He hated it, but he needed it.

The caffeine kept him awake.

Mikasa would always chide him about this. At how unhealthy of a coping mechanism it was, to rely on a substance to keep him awake.

He still remembers how two years ago, exactly 4 months after the incident, how she would constantly tell him to stop drinking that burned bean water, probably very worried at the lack of sleep Armin clearly was not getting.

“You don't even like it.” She would frown.

Armin would laugh at the name Mikasa used to describe the coffee, avoiding the last statement. “Since when did you start calling it like that?”

Mikasa would frown again, knowing what he was doing. She didn't push him though. instead, she would just shake her head.

“Sleep.” She would say very seriously, while giving him a sideway glance. “You need sleep.”

Armin would look at her dead in the eyes, at the dark circles surrounding them, at the way she kept her body, the way her skin didn't have the same glow it used to have, her face hollower and emptier than it usually looked.

“So do you.” He would softly whisper in return. She would just shrug, and the conversation would always hit a dead end there. “Besides,” he would add, after a moment of silence, “I do like coffee. Now.”

“Oh.” She would say. Not convinced.

“Yeah.” He would answer. Trying to make the lie sound convincing. To whom, he didn't know. Mikasa or himself? Perhaps both.

“Okay.” She would respond. “That's good.” She would grip her red scarf thighter, a gesture Armin noticed she would always do when she was nervous, sad or upset, and from that, Armin knew that she didn't believe him at all. But neither of them commented on it. It was a comforting lie.

Now as he was standing alone in his small kitchen, still sleep deprived, not listening to Mikasa’s advice, with a cup of boiling hot coffee in his hand, moonlight reflecting on his windows, a single tear slipped down his eye. It trailed all down his cheek, slowly, until it plopped into the drink he was holding with shaky hands.

He missed him. A lot. God, he missed him so much.

He missed his smile, his eyes, his laugh, his everything. The way he would scream in excitement, the way he would always run at the high, high hill, always fist pumping into the air when he thought he won, only to get disappointed when he realized Mikasa was just letting him win on purpose.He missed the way he would get excited when his mom would bake him a new cake, the way he would always bring Armin a piece afterwards, eager to see his reactions while eating it.

“So?” He would ask, more close to a demand than a question, his tone full of youth excitement. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah!” He said, surprising himself. Not that Eren's mom was a bad cook, not at all. But the cake flavor was coffee, and he never saw the appeal to this grown ups drink. Strangely, however, he really enjoyed this one. Thinking back at it, maybe he was just forcing himself to like it, cause he wanted to see the boy smile widen. Maybe he just wanted to love everything Eren offered him. Maybe he was just a delusional kid with a crush. Who knows. It was too late to dwell on it now.

“Your mom is an awesome cook.” Armin commented, licking some frosting off his hands.

The boy gloated in pride. “She said she will help me learn how to bake if I behave.”

“I thought you weren't allowed to bake anymore,” Armin said, still chewing on the cake. “Last time we baked at your house, it was a bit of a disaster.” It wasn't as big of a disaster as they made it out to be. But they were childrens, and everything seemed a bigger deal than it was.

He huffed in response. “That wasn't my fault! It was the oven's fault…” he murmured. Armin laughed. “I dont think your mom agrees with that.”

The other boy shoved him playfully. “How was I supposed to know I can't just bake coffee beans?”

Armin sighed. “I told you it wasn't a good idea. You never listen.”

“Whatever.” He said, plopping his legs on Armin’s lap.

“Hey!” Armin yelped, the boy's dirty feets almost getting into Armins plate. “I'm still eating here.”

Eren laughed. After a bit, Armin joined in.

They laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Armin's laugh never quite sounded the same after he was gone.

Neither did Mikasa’s for that matter. Probably the others too, but he lost contact with them, so he couldn't say for sure. They still all went to the same school, sure, but it was almost as if they were complete strangers, everyone collectively ignoring each other, in a desperate attempt to forget the incident. The only person he still talked to was Mikasa. And she, too, sometimes seemed so far away, like a mirage ready to dissolve right under his fingertips.

Armin was about to take a sip from his coffee. More like chugging it down in one go, but he froze right as the cup touched his lips.

His hands started to tremble, from fear or cold, he couldn't distinguish. Despite the heat of the beverage in his hand, he suddenly felt really cold. His arms shivered, his hands turning white as he clenched to his cup as if it could give him a sense of support. By gripping it too hard, some coffee splashed onto his hands, and he let out a hiss of pain. He put the coffee on the table, careful not to spill anymore.

He started feeling feverish, his head becoming a dizzying mess. He put a hand on the counter, for support. He felt like an invisible force was pushing his lungs, pushing until he couldn't breath, until he was coughing, and coughing, he needed air, he desperately needed air, but it was as if whatever was making him feel likethis, hated air, hated it with a burning passion, and it wanted to make Armin hate air as much as it did.

Armin felt like fainting. He probably was about to faint. He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly he was kneeling on the ground,

This is it. He thought miserably. I am going to die, today, alone, without even knowing if he is still alive, leaving Eren behind, leaving Mikasa behind, leaving everyone behind, because im a failure, and, and, and---

And then it stopped. His lungs could breathe again. He gasped, desperately trying to inhale as much air as possible, the burning in chest slowly fading away, even if his head still felt like someone was smashing a rock onto it.

But he could finally breathe again, and he could feel his pulse. He wasn't dead. He was alive. That's what mattered. He took another shaky breath, and used the chairs and the counter as support to stand up again. His legs were still shaking though, so instead of standing up, he opted to sit on the chair.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Those were the only thoughts going through his head, as he tried to sip his coffee again. That sensation, that feeling. There was no mistake. It was just like the incident two years ago, the same burning sensation, the same desperation to just give up, to do anything, anything, just so the pain could stop, the envy of being able to breathe---

“Ymir.”

The cup shattered on the ground, a sharp sound echoing through the empty hallways, coffee spilling everywhere. Armin didn't even notice. He was frozen in place, hand still raised, eyes still looking in front of him.

That voice. He couldn't make sense of anything. Except : That voice.

That voice. I know that voice. I would know that voice everywhere.

He turned around so quickly his chair went flying to the ground, glass splintering his bare feet from where the glass shattered. His eyes widened, tears spilling out of his ocean blue eyes like fountains.

“Eren?” He whispered. He took a step forward, hand reaching out, trying to touch him, hug him, kiss him, just feel him under his touch but---

His hands went right through him, as if...as if he wasn't real. A look of hurt and confusion shadowed Armin's face. “Ymir.” The man in front of him said again. He sounded monotone, no emotions, no feelings, no nothing. His face didn't seem like an open book anymore, his eyes not gleaming with millions' adventure.

“You have to find Ymir.”

“Eren.” That's all Armin could muster to utter, his voice shaking, his lips trembling. Was this a sick joke of his brain? The sleep deprivation finally kicking in? Making him almost pass out, and now hallucinate his missing-but-much-more-likely-his-long-lost-dead-best-friend?

“Listen to me, you have to listen to me, you need to find Ymir, or else, or else, or else.” He kept repeating the same sentence, as if he was a broken recorder. He closed his eyes, opened them again, closed them again. Armin took a step backwards. His mind was starting to creep him out.

“Eren, is that really you, please tell me I'm not hallucinating you.” He needed to ask, even if it was probably all fake, all his mind–

“Or else.” He closed his eyes again, muttered some stuff.

“Or else?” Armin whispered. “Eren, talk to me, please.”

“Ymir. Find. Ymir.”

With that, Eren started to fade again.

“Wait, no!” Armin didn't want him to leave, not right after he finally got to see him again. He didn't care this might all be his head. He didn't care this might all have to do with what happened three years ago, he didn't care, he just wanted his best friend back, he just wanted to be able to laugh and mess around, and talk about the future as if they both had a clue, he just wanted Eren back.

In his desperate attempt to reach him, Armin slipped on the spilled coffee; he could feel blood oozing from his feets, now from his hands, a stinging pain forming all around his skin. He didn't care, didn't notice. He struggled to get up again, and when he slipped again, he decided to crawl, not caring about the glass shatters on the floor, not caring about the pain, the stiffness of the floor, the red blood mixing with the brown coffee, he didn't care, he just needed to reach him, try again to touch him, maybe he imagined him fading under his touch, maybe it was a trick of the light, maybe he truly did come back, maybe, maybe, just maybe---

“Dont.” He whispered, more like a mix between a sob and a beg. “Don't go.”

“Armin–?” He sounded surprised, shocked, relieved, happy, nothing like the creepy expression and monotone voice he had before when he was muttering all those things, the same name over and over again, what was it again---he couldn't remember in the moment, the only thing in his mind was that he recognized him, he saw him and he knew who he was, and he said his name so gentle, so quietly, as if he was uttering a precious thing he didn't want to break–

“Eren.” Armin said, reaching his arms out, knowing, just knowing, he would reach his arm to, and they would hold hands, and everything would be fine again, he would have his best friend back–

But just as suddenly as he appeared, he disappeared.

And Armin couldn't do anything but curl up on the ground and cry, and cry, until his mind encircled him into a deep, unwanted sleep.

#eremin #snk eren #snk armin #snk mikasa #a sprinkle of eren/armin/mikasa #Historia #christa #ymir #ymir fritz #jean #sasha blouse #connie springer #armin mikasa friendship #angst #comfort #everyone needs a hug #it will get dark #inspired by a phone game #i like to make my reader suffer IM SORRY

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wayhvn · 3 years

Text

twelve minutes

summary | jude could have imagined that playing chess with a vampire might have been difficult. they did not imagine that it would be quite this exhaustive.

detective jude cain plays a particularly difficult game of chess with commanding agent ava du mortain

pairing | mason x jude cain (nb detective), the beginnings of / implications of ava x Jude, which could also be interpreted as a very close or caring friendship. mason ava love triangle route... jk. haha unless...???

word count | ~1.6k

rating | t for language to be safe! jude swears lmao.

tags | i am just going to tag some of my followers /mutuals if that is okay??? i do not know the etiquette for this kind of thing hahah so tell me if you do not want to be tagged I won’t be offended!! @raleighcarrera @agentfreckles @s-ewell @natehsewell @brightpinkpeppercorn

authors note | WOW I AM NERVOUS this is my first time posting a piece of writing here!! im a huge fan of chess and i have always imagined that ava would be too. this was very fun for me. that being said, this is rough and a little unedited but i just wanted to stop putting it off and post it already!!

Jude could have imagined that playing chess with a vampire might have been difficult. They did not imagine that it would be quite this exhaustive.

Though it was nearly the middle of the summer, the fireplace was roaring. The only source of light in the library, the orange flicker cast gold shadows across Ava’s cheekbones, her lips a tight unyielding line, straight above her chin. Her features, normally pallid in the light, were warmer now, controlled as ever before. She sat across from them, left ankle crossed over her right knee, the line of her body carefully folded taught, her brow furrowed. She hadn’t moved in nearly fifteen minutes.

It was incredible, to her see her this still. Distracting, welcomed. Unit Bravo, the assembly that Jude had subconsciously categorized as their vampires, so permanently full of life, fluid in their movements and their expressions, rarely bothered to act as anything but human. Jude had forgotten how still any one of them could be, if only they would will it. Jude found themselves often forgetting the Unit’s capabilities. Nate, Ava, Farah, Mason- each could do any number of things unimaginable to Jude, if only they would will it. Jude hadn’t thought about it that way before. They wondered if this was a bad thing.

So Ava sat, a fortress of her own making, made of blood and bone and particles that had been of this earth for nearly a thousand years. A millennium.

The space felt cavernous in its silence, devoid of any other member of the unit, devoid of activity. It was easy for Jude to imagine that perhaps they were the only two in the Warehouse at all, that the entire building had cleared itself for just the both of them.

“Are you very familiar with chess, detective?”

Jude swallowed, and slowly, nodded. “My mother taught me. I played in high school.”

“Was this before you were nearly expelled for your truancy, or after?”

They managed a laugh, something bare, and short. “You have jokes now, I see. Before, Agent Du Mortain. Before. Now are you going to make your move?”

“I have played chess with your mother for nearly a decade,” Ava mused. “She is much more patient an opponent.”

“Was she very good?”

Ava hesitated, before relenting. “I have had my losses to Rebecca, yes. She reinvigorated my enjoyment of the sport of it all.”

The fire cracked loudly, and Jude diverted their gaze to its growth. They licked their lips, shifting their shoulders.

“I forgot that you’ve known each other for so long.”

Ava’s lips twitched, before her face settled again. “I have not forgotten a single match against her.”

“You seem to not forget many things.”

“Of course not. It is nearly impossible.”

Jude did not know what to say.

It was Ava, who broke the still. Her voice was quieter now, assured.

“I did not, for instance, forget the state in which you came here.”

Jude resisted the urge to sigh. To scoff. To roll their eyes. To do anything but admit some form of defeat, at the hands of a friend that Ava had had for over one hundred years. They did not imagine that Ava would bring it up. In fact, she had asked Jude to play chess rather callously, disregarding the tears, the panic. It had been instrumental in helping them reacquire a sense of calm.

Unforgiving in her persistence, she continued. “Mason has caused something of a mess,” Ava pursed her lips, and Jude could see that her teeth were clenched. “I imagined he would.”

Jude was certain that they would stand, resist the onslaught. “I don’t want to-“

Ava raised an eyebrow, an interruption in itself. “I received a concerned text from Nate. Who had a concerning conversation with the man in question.”

Jude felt their jaw sit tight, and they hunched their shoulders. They imagined to Ava’s specimen, they were about as intimidating as a fearful kitten. “I don’t want to know about it.”

This was not Ava giving up, and Jude knew that. But she did not respond, and it was a place of solace which Jude would accept.

For now.

“Are you familiar with Louis Paulsen’s 1857 match against Paul Morphy?”

Jude blinked, and straightened. Near a millennia, indeed. “No.”

Ava hummed. Jude blinked, and in the fraction of a second it had taken them to open their eyes, Ava’s position had completely changed. She was leaning forward now, shoulders horizontally parallel to her knees, her head resting in her hands. It was as though somebody had replaced a photograph with another photograph. She did not look as though she had moved, and yet, here she was, her entire body completely shifted. The firelight gave her eyes a dark cast, reminiscent of the sea. Her voice continued, languid, slow. “Morphy was an American, in a losing position. His structure was catastrophic, and Paulsen’s queen was about to demolish completely what strategy he had left.”

Ava raised her gaze, then, and Jude felt powerless to do anything but meet it.

“Morphy took twelve minutes before making his next move,” Ava, perhaps unknowingly, let her tongue sweep across the bottom row of her teeth. Her lips were parted in what might hint at the very beginnings of a smile. “Twelve whole minutes. He had to assure himself that every possible combination afterwards was sound. Was safe, even knowing that chess is never safe, not truly. But he had to ensure, losses be damned, that he had a forced win, in every variation. Do you know what move he made, Detective Cain?”

Jude did not know why, but their heart was pounding, quickly, horribly, in their chest, as if uncertain it belonged in this confine of muscle at all.

Their voice was raspy, dry, unsettled. “A sacrifice.”

Ava’s gaze was steady, terrible, unfaltering. The flames seemed to exist from inside of her, and nowhere else. Ava was a leader, unforgiving, tactical. Her voice was that of her title now, no trace of uncertainty or mutiny possible. Ava could not be wrong. Ava would be heard, and her demands would be met. This was Commanding Agent Du Mortain. A pantheon of her own assembly. This was the voice that war might render. “A queen sacrifice, Detective Cain. A loss of the most powerful piece on the board. Aimed to destroy the entire pawn structure of the side of the king.”

Jude felt as though they could not breathe. They felt feverish, incapable. For a moment, the board in front of them made no sense, was a puzzle that had no complete answer. Jude was going to lose this game. The certainty of this, as insignificant as it might be, seemed overwhelming and inescapable. Ava had likely memorized as many of the hundreds of thousands of millions of billions of possible outcomes of every possible game. What else would a tactical commander do in her hundreds of years of spare time, with a mind endlessly more capable than that of a human’s?

The chill, despite the summer breeze, as Jude had left the bakery.

The confirmation of fear, wrapping their jacket tight around their midsection. The certainty of rejection. The certainly of solitude.

The mounting of an internalized pressure system.

“Detective Cain,” Ava’s voice, grounded in something that was certain to be eternal, cut through the space that Jude had so effortlessly placed between them. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Jude’s response was instant, automatic.

An unstable chemical reaction.

“Do not forget that I am perfectly capable of hearing your heart.”

An explosion.

Jude knew that there were no pretenses here. Perhaps they had been wrong in assuming that Ava would play along. In hoping that it was all Ava would bother to do.

In an action which Jude could not control, they were pushed to their feet. In one fell swoop, Jude’s arm had swept across the chess board, destroying their loss, destroying the evidence of their loss, ending the game in terms which made sense. Their voice was a hiss, a yell, something verging on a scream. Rage, unbridled, packaged so that it could not be recognized as fear.

“We weren’t even fucking! Because I didn’t want to fuck around for nothing, Ava! And now, fucking Haley thinks we were, and the whole fucking town thinks we were, and I look like a fucking idiot who was getting played with by their fucking coworker!”

Ava’s gaze had risen with Jude’s body, and she regarded the dismantled game in front of them with something that could only be equated to impatience.

Ava had not lifted her chin from her hands.

Jude waited, and when nothing happened, when nobody moved, Jude, shoulders heaving, took the first steps past the shelves that surrounded the couches. The door, outlined in that harsh, fluorescent light of the Warehouse, beckoned like a song.

“Jude.”

Ava’s voice. Imploring. Undemanding. Forgiving. Pliant, and close. Without a whisper of a sound, Ava had stood, moved, and positioned herself directly behind Jude. If Jude wanted, they could stretch their hand back. Their fingers would touch her. Jude could touch her.

Jude stiffened. Jude stopped. Jude did not turn around. Jude did not touch her.

Ava spoke again.

“The greatest threat has been removed from the board. Mason cannot make a move like this again.”

Jude exhaled. It was a shudder. It was the beginning of something that Jude would not admit to. Speaking of this in terms of a game made it easier. Jude could distance from it. It was likely that Ava knew that.

“I guess I just don’t know if I’ve lost yet.”

Ava did not say anything else. Or maybe she did. Jude didn’t know.

Jude left the library.

#the Wayhaven chronicles #agent m #nb detective #mason x detective #mason x jude #ava x jude #ava du mortain #twc #twc fic

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loyally-unfaithful · 4 years

Text

—; but “sentimental boy” is my nom de plume

word count: 1916

pairing: connor/gn!reader

genre: slight fluff; hurt no comfort

summary: it has been a year after the android revolution. humans and android alike settled down, an olive branch was offered as a sign of reconciliation. with newfound peace came along newfound love, and many open roads to choose from. this was no different for the rk800—connor. surprisingly or unsurprisingly, he decided to continue working at the dpd, this time as a bonafide detective. but he has also accepted the thrilling uncertainty of life that deviancy has brought; the same strings that brought his lover in his life.the same ones he hated and cursed, the same fates who ripped it all away.

a/n: everytime i convince myself i came out of my dbh hyperfixation i just look at connor and i become lovesick again.

gosh i know i should be finishing my other fic or work on the prologue script for my vn, but,,,,,,, i just had a sudden hankering for connor angst,,,,

written during a sleep deprivation induced moment of epiphany,,,,, (purple prose cuz im extra af uwu)

I’ve never written angst before so i’d love to hear your thoughts on it

maybe if you asked him one year ago whether he’d consider returning someone’s feelings, romantic feelings, he’d reply to you with a placid smile and a polite « i’m sorry, i wasn’t programmed to reciprocate romantic interest. ». he remembered that he’d sneer at them internally. now thinking about it, long before he questioned his obedience towards her, he already showed signs of deviancy.

you did what you were designed to do.

memories from his past would still torment him erratically, doubts would resurface on particularly dark days. but you were the light that cut through that haze. this wasn’t a “fake deviancy”. it couldn’t have been. not when he is holding your body so close to his, warmth radiating off of each other, two heartbeats—similar, but different—thrumming together. all the softly whispered and adoringly announced « i love you »’s; all the quick and coveted pecks and all the feverish and passionate kisses. no, he was alive, he was sure of it—alive and absolutely enamoured by you. all semblance of doubt ebbed away when you entered his life.

whenever he’s around you, he feels more alive: you make him feel everything, all the little precious things. tenderness and adoration when he shares tranquil mornings with you. he feels more alive when he’s with you, all the little habits and routines too endearing: the sweet post-it notes scattered over your shared flat; scribbled upon it are encouraging words or sweet nothings. conflicting work schedules meant that moments spent together were scarce, but that made them even more valuable and coveted. captivation, was another emotion that he felt around you. your mannerism, your dreams and interests, your physical attributes and quality of voice. logically speaking, you were just another human, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. you’d live and then one day, you’d die. as if you never really existed. but he wasn’t being logical. how could he be? when you were right there in front of him? you made him irrational, and he found that new aspect in life thrilling. confusing at first, but exciting. he was eternally grateful that you let him experience all these beautiful emotions with you. he was grateful that you allowed him in your short journey that you called life.

he was happy, absolutely content, with his shared life with you. you were both in perfect places in your respective lives: you both had a stable job, loving family backing you up, and a fulfilling love life. what seemed to be a mismatched couple at first turned to be 2 pieces of the same puzzle finally finding their place. life for the both of you couldn’t be better.

but along with the many exquisite moment that your romantic endeavours brought you, the android didn’t only taste the sweet delicacies of life; no matter how idyllic a moment may be, there were times when he had to taste the astringent and sour desserts life offered.

anger. that was an emotion that he felt. but that’s not accurate, no… it was frustration and shock and betrayal, all the unsavoury feelings in the world. perhaps it was due to his inexperience, maybe his lack of exposure to these negative sentiments, that caused him to snap the way he did. to hurt you the way he did. but it happened and there was no turning back the clock.

no matter how much he begged and cried for it.

he was proud that you got the job offer in canada, he really was. and he, like any other caring boyfriend would, offered to accompany you there, an offer which you gladly accepted. that was the plan. but plans were difficult to follow. crime waits for no man, working for the law meant that connor must always be available for duty. no excuses, he was an android. but connor wasn’t just a simple android detective, no, he had a much more important role: he was the link, the messenger, between jericho and the police force. he was the crucial communication between the two forces. so when jericho contacted him about threats of anti-android attacks, he had to make an appearance at their base. the meeting coincided with the day you were meant to travel to canada. it was a simple trip really. it only took a few hours by train, stay in canada for 2 days (it was the weekend), and then return back to detroit, probably arriving in the late afternoons to their home.

but you were looking forwards to traveling with your wonderful partner after « [we] spent so much time apart ». the day he told you the urgent change of plans, connor was tired, overwhelmed. you were frustrated and expectant. a fight was bound to have erupted. accusatory statements, along the lines of: « you don’t actually care about me! it’s all about work and work and work! » and « i can’t believe how selfish you’re being right now! » in between shouting and yelling and frustration and anger and contempt–

you both went to bed exhausted but spiteful, still not forgiving each other. in hindsight, he felt so utterly pathetic, so unbelievably childish, for being that cruel, and uncaring. he didn’t want to be like him again. so many glares and insults were thrown at each other, tears threatened to spill, LED flashed and shone a true red, doors were slammed. he felt awful, plain and simple. you both lied in the same bed, under the same cover. so close yet so excruciatingly far apart. back facing the other’s, no one said a word.

you woke up before him. bitter and unhappy. no morning kisses, no whispered « i love you » to wake your other half. you wordlessly got yourself ready, grabbed your bag and quietly snuck out. no post it notes were left. no sweet promises or encouraging words. you could do this work trip without him. you were independent. you didn’t need a tin can to chaperone you everywhere. so you left. plain and simple. gone. since you woke up and left earlier than planned, you boarded an earlier train. how lovely and convenient. the carriages were mostly filled with androids. perhaps they were trying to immigrate to canada like the others. who knows. you paid no mind and absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, obsessively checking your messages to see if connor realised. to see if he apologised. because frankly, at that point you were tired of being mad and just wanted to spend the day in his arms. but prideful and petty as you were, you weren’t willing to apologise and admit your mistakes first.

connor roused from stasis a few moments afterward, less bitter and more regretful. he wished to right his wrongs but the normally warm presence beside him was not there. his system was slowly booting back up when his audio sensor picked up an incessant ringing from the living room. he jolted up and rushed out to pick up the ringing phone call and waited for the other side to speak up.

the room was so utterly quiet, a silence so suffocating engulfed the room, that you could hear a pin drop. the voice on the other side asked whether this was indeed your house and that he was indeed connor anderson. he swallowed dryly and answered with a soft, « yes ». running a quick check in his database, he matches the caller’s voice with a certain nathaniel edwards. first responder. he allowed his HUD to display the news. if androids could get pale, have all their blood drain from their faces, his would have certainly done so. he stood, rigid and motionless, consumed by shock and horror.

the news and the first responder’s words blended into one as he gripped the phone tighter: « this morning, at 7:48 am the train from detroit to toronto was caught in a devastating turn of events: the train soon caught in fire and exploded as it made its way over the border. it has been confirmed that there has been 0 survivors. it is unclear whether this was an unfortunate accident or the result of anti-android terrorism. »

the other person’s voice poured through the speaker but he wasn’t listening. he stared blankly in front of him. no way, he thought, it couldn’t have been… the only sign that the android was registering the other man’s input was the now constant red LED.

« sir? sir. i’m sorry to bring this— – no, this isn’t right… you must have the wrong number, he interrupted. there were probably others with your name… maybe they were mistaken... – sir that’s not possible, w— – you must have gotten the wrong house… not… it-it couldn’t have been…» but he knew how improbable it was that they got the wrong number. he was built to be logical, to believe statistics. the statistics told him you were dead. long gone. he hoped and prayed that you stayed back, didn’t get on the earlier train. the statistics told him you did.

he choked out a response, quiet and defeated. you were gone. he’d never get to see you again. « i… i’m sorry… i-i don’t understand… – we tried our best to find them sir, but… the fire was too severe… if we gain any new developm— – you didn’t save them. »

still in a daze, he must have hung up on the poor man and unceremoniously dropped the phone. its clatter the only sound in this deafening silence. the reality of it all comes crashing through and he collapsed, ugly sobs escaping him as the denial faded away to make way for the pure and unfiltered grief. he felt lost. for the first time in a long while since amanda he felt so utterly and completely lost. no more shining beacon during his dark and stormy nights. no more valued affection and coveted kisses. no more notes and no more smile to come home to.

he laughed bitterly, devoid of any humour. it was funny, just how cruel the fates were: made human life so fleeting. lachesisonly gave them such a short eternity. and when he thought you both found your missing halves, bound to another by an invisible string, atropos cuts it. a small snippet that is so easily ripped away from you. he belonged with you, he felt at peace with you. he was able to be what he struggled to be for the majority of his miserable and artificial existence. with you, he was able to be happy.

but now he’ll have to get used to not coming home to a warm embrace. he’ll have to get used to going into stasis alone, in the cold bed. he’ll have to get used to his aching heart being greeted by an empty house. every cold and lonely nights. it’s ridiculous how human he felt because of you. and he was both thankful and spiteful for it.

sadness and bitter regret ripped through him when he remembered that he didn’t share goodbyes before he left. he remembered how he couldn’t have apologised to you and tenderly held you. he regretted not being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him for the last time. ra9 only knows the things he’d do and the things he’d sacrifice, just to have you in his arms again.

instead he was faced with the bitter reminder that the last thing he’s ever said to you, your last memory of him, was a contemptuous and scornful « i wished i never met you ».

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theforce · 4 years

Text

presumptive horrible rotten case of corona: symptoms

presumptive bc i couldnt get a god damn test i live in new york and while there are testing sites all over the state and our state govt is doing what they can now, i don’t want to be the person taking away a test from someone else especially now that i am mostly better, most of this went down at the beginning of the month and i’m still dealing with the effects of it.

there was a lot of confusion here even as recent as 2 weeks and we are the state that’s testing more than the rest of the entire country so here is my account of what went down w me, and honestly, what might go down with you or someone you know as soon as this reaches your state

1) i threw up all night long, thought it was a stomach virus, had a lot of stomach issues for like 24 hours, very strange i haven’t had a stomach virus in YEARS since i was a literal child, anyways right before i started puking up my life i developed this weird cough, it felt like it was from my throat, like i was trying to clear it? but it was often and annoying

2) after my 24 hours of hell i felt feverish and exhausted but i chalked it up to being on the floor of the bathroom all night, exerting my esophagus and body to throw up the devil himself, i tried to sleep it off, i woke up a few hours later in a fog, i was shivering but i was also burning up, i couldn’t tell left from right, up from down, my fever was 100.3, at this point i had my mom call my doctor and make an appointment, she made it for me w the receptionist, everything was fine until 20 minutes later i got a call back from my actual doctor not the receptionist who was like, oh no not you’re not coming here with those symptoms baby and i was like ?? ok cool thanks, she said to keep watching my symptoms, slam some tylenol and if i felt shortness of breath to call or text her personal cell phone and she would get me set up at the nearest hospital i said ok sounds fucked up i mean i didn’t say that bc i was too fucked up to even speak, she also gave my mom instructions to keep me in my room, to not go near me, to give me a designated bathroom, to have food and water delivered to my door, my mom was like u dont gotta tell me twice (she has lupus) during this time my cough become dry and horrible, i could feel my lungs rattle, i would cough so hard and for so long i’d wake from my feverish coma to kneel over my bed and just let loose on the world, it felt like i was drowning, i couldn’t get enough air everything hurt, everything was sore

3) things continued on like this for 5 straight days, i was literally in and out of consciousness, my fever got up to 102 and my mom said that if it raised at all from there we were going to the fuckin hospital and i was like listen la rona i know u wanna take me out but i havent even ever eaten a krispy kreme donut, please let me survive this i can’t leave this way, in that moment i literally had a fever dream of god herself, i said take this from me and i’ll stop being such a cunt in life. i started slamming hot toddy’s, i’d drink as much water as possible in between the time i wasnt literally trying to expel my lungs by way of my mouth

4) woke up from that whole ordeal drenched in SWEAT from my feet to my head i was soaked, it was gross, at that point i still had a sense of smell so let me tell you my last and final symptom should have kicked in a bit earlier but i checked my temp and it was normal! i didn’t feel like my head was going to explode! but i had new things going on i had a new stuffy/runny nose, my cough was producing some liquid which i proceeded to throw up into a mcdonalds cup i took a shower, i brushed my teeth, i felt like a brand new woman, i had cold like symptoms but i can live with cold like symptoms, i had an appetite for the first time in a week, felt like i could eat my whole family out of house and home given the opportunity, i’d lost 20 pounds in less than 2 weeks and ya girl was honestly, looking good but THAT’S A BAD WAY OF THINKING disregard please thank you, at this point i went into my doctor with a full on mask, gloves, hair pulled back, she gave me every test you can think of, most importantly a flu test which is all she could do since getting a test was impossible at this pint, which of course came back negative

5) things continued like this for weeks, up until right now actually, exhaustion was gone, fever gone, cough still here and there but not like how it was, i’ve put on makeup in my room, i’ve watched every season of law and order svu, i’ve gone on drives in my car just to drive, i’ve tried to keep myself as busy as possible, 3 days ago the strangest, most inexplicable and hopefully last symptom arrived, a complete loss of smell and bc of that taste, i’ve tried smelling candles, essential oils, laundry detergent, canned meat, my brother lit a match with my back turned and asked me what the smell was, i ate extra hot cheetos, raw onions, shot of vinegar, there’s nothing there, i just hope it comes back

during this time i haven’t been even close to my mother, who has lupus or my sister, who has asthma, i stayed in my room, i’m still in my room actually 14 full days out from the last time i left the house, one month since this whole thing started, i eat in my room, i use a different bathroom than my whole family, everyone talks to me from my door frame besides my little brother who also was sick but recovered super fast, he bleaches the bathroom after i use it, he puts all my food on single use plates, he brings me jugs of water and reminds me of what it’s like to at least talk to another person.

on a more serious note, i haven’t touched another person in 20 days nobody has even been within 6 feet of me besides my doctor who was administering the only tests she could administer, fully decked out in a hazmat suit, she was scared for me, i could tell, she was trying to put on a brave face and downplay the severity of my symptoms but thank god for her, she’s checked up on me, she’s tried everything, she’s put in calls, she’s made herself as available as possible even though she’s probably going through the same thing with countless other patients, i worry for her, i’ve worried for my family, i’ve stressed beyond the point of no return which has for sure slowed my recovery and i was one of the lucky ones! all of this and my case was considered mild because i never really had trouble breathing beyond being choked by my own coughing.

people have been there for me during all of this, in ways that are further reaching than touch, i have been very vocal about not liking when people touch me but i do look forward to the day i can hug my mom, where i can tell my friend to take a sip of my drink to see if she likes it, to have someone pat me on the shoulder and tell me to keep my head up or whatever

hopefully im on the other side of this, my more at risk family members are about to be 14 days from the last time any of them were near me or my brother, they’re at the end of a long tunnel and i’m just so happy that maybe soon we’ll all see the light

take care of yourselves

#tw for like puke and losing weight and just overall grossness

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iluvsexyvoltageguys · 5 years

Text

Full Service

Fandom: Irresistible Mistakes (Love 365)

Pairing: Shunichiro x Reader

Note: @rougepetale this is for you, hope you enjoy your man 😏

You had been completely ready for work, just about to put on your coat and head out the door when you felt his hand on your shoulder. It was early and you hadn’t expected him to wake before you left, but you turned toward him and saw fire in his eyes.

He wanted you.

Knowing it wouldn’t take long, and feeling his heat light you up, you tossed the coat aside and let him press against your body, his erection obvious even through his boxers and your pants. The kiss was brief, dirty and deep, meant only to agree upon the level of need. Shunichiro pulled you into the living room where you could brace yourself on the back of a chair, right after unfastening your pants and letting them fall to your ankles. He stepped behind you to take care of your panties, pushing them roughly to the side as he bent you over.

He freed himself from his boxers and pushed forward, using his knee to open you as wide as your clothing would allow, sliding home with one long stroke. He hadn’t even bothered to check to see how wet and ready you were; not that there was a need for that. You were always wet and ready.

You wanted him.

There was never a rhythm, the pace frantic from the first thrust. You didn’t hold back, letting your cries for more echo throughout the room. Shunichiro was well aware that you loved to be fucked hard, but you liked to remind him anyway, pleading for his cock even as he gripped your hips with enough force to leave marks. When he leaned forward to nip your shoulder through your blouse, you came on a violent shudder, breathlessly demanding that he fill you up.

He couldn’t remember you ever wording it quite like that. Sure, you had told him to come plenty of times, but the specific request to fill you up was different. Primal. And he reacted to it. “You want to be filled up? You want to feel everything I can give you? The way only you can make me come?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Any further encouragement was unnecessary and Shunichiro pumped only twice more before he held himself deep inside and let your pussy help milk him of every drop. He was still draped over you, his cock slowly softening within you, as you mumbled into the chair cushion. “I should go change before I leave for the office.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You wanted to be filled up. I want you to stay that way.”

Something in his tone kept you silent, so he took the opportunity to slip out from you, fixing your panties as quickly as possible. Your pants followed, though he let you handle the zipper and button. You were quiet long enough that he thought he might have pushed you too far, but when you turned around and hungrily attacked his mouth, letting your tongue tease the roof of his mouth before you nipped at his lower lip, he stopped worrying.

You finally pulled away and smiled wickedly, loving the secret you would share with him all day. Without another word, you picked up your coat and left for work.

~~~~~

The rest of the morning was relatively normal; you, Toma and Toshiaki continued to work on the story board of the current commercial you were working on. However, even surrounded by the mundane, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way you were marked, feeling it with every step and embracing the warmth crawling just under your skin.

When you saw Shunichiro step off the elevator, two coffees in hand, you swore you felt a new wave of your own wetness mix with his. He handed you the steaming cup at your desk, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I can smell myself on you.”

Wide-eyed and blushing, you whipped your head around to where the guys were huddled around Toma’s computer, then slowly turned back to Shunichiro. “Really? Do you think they’ve noticed?”

“I hope so.” He walked away before you could respond, and you couldn’t even figure out how you felt. Powerful? Dirty? Needy? Some of everything? You supposed being ashamed would be a normal reaction, yet there was absolutely none of that. Hurrying to rejoin your team, you did what you could to push it all from your mind so that you could focus on work.

Things were fine until lunchtime, when everyone went to grab lunch and you and Shunichiro were left alone for several minutes. You were leaning against a desk, still editing the story board, but he made his presence known when he nudged your shoulder and grinned mischievously, “Still filled up?”

“Well, I’m not sure how ‘filled up’ I am, but I’m plenty wet.”

He studied you for a long moment. “What happened to keeping it in all day?”

“Um, gravity?”

It was a simple fact, but he just shook his head and grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the office and down a familiar hallway. There was a small storage closet that you had become rather acquainted with, though you really tried to avoid too much sex at work. The idea of getting caught was both arousing and appalling, but on days like this, it just didn’t matter.

You both crowded into the tiny room and shut the door behind you, leaving you with a sliver of light. It only took a minute of fumbling to find the sturdy boxes you knew were there, then stack them to a height that would allow you to sit at the perfect angle for him to fuck you with little effort.

Just as had happened earlier, your clothes hung around your ankles; he let his fall as well, unconcerned with anything but coming inside you again. Your mouths met sloppily just as his cock drove deep, a gasp of relief coming from both of you. The sound of your joining was louder and wetter than normal, a reminder of what you were doing and how much you were turned on by it. He reached for a handful of your hair and pulled your head back, giving him room to suck on your neck as he repeatedly pounded into you

Your hand dropped between your bodies, fingers quickly finding your swollen clit. He looked down at your colliding hips and groaned at the sight. “You want me to come hard inside you? Fill you up again?”

"Please!”

You let yourself go, your entire body tightening as you tried to stay silent, only a desperate mewl escaping your lips. He followed quickly, in tune with your body and on edge with the desire to leave you with more evidence of your shared lust. As he spilled inside you, his forehead fell forward against yours, and you both took a moment to catch your breaths.

By the time he slid away from your body and you carefully moved off the boxes, your eyes had adjusted to the darkness and you were able to watch as he eased your panties back into place. Before his hand fully let you go, he tucked it under the elastic and dragged his fingertips through the cum he had just left behind. Bringing them up to your mouth, he touched your lips and you opened for him, sucking his fingers clean as you stared at him.

“You’ll try harder to keep it all inside this time?”

Your tongue still held him in your mouth, your lips sealed around him as you nodded.

~~~~~

You managed to make it through the rest of the day with some semblance of productivity and concentration, even as the heavy scent of sex followed you like an illicit haze. The guys had to have noticed something, but stayed quiet, the topic too intimate for either of them to bring up. Still, just knowing that they must have had their suspicions was enough to keep the arousal thrumming steadily throughout your body.

For his part, Shunichiro did lots of staring, but far less talking than normal. Instead, he followed you with his eyes, territorial and proud, eager for the moment he could get you alone again.

You had dinner reservations at a swanky restaurant and needed to stop at the apartment to change first, so you left work at a decent hour. You were both quiet on the drive home, simply holding hands with an innocence that belied the day’s earlier activities, but once you were through the front door, you grabbed at each other, removing clothing at a feverish pace.

How you made it to the bedroom was unknown, even to you. Your panties were the last barrier between the two of you and they were unceremoniously tossed to the floor, just a second before his naked body pressed you down into the mattress. You attempted to lock your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, but he stopped you, instead moving them to his shoulders. The angle allowed him to get deeper than he had been all day, and hit your g-spot perfectly. It didn’t matter that you had already fucked twice that day; neither of you would last long.

You got loud, begging to be filled up one more time. Your string of expletives urged both of you on, and you finally screamed his name, your pussy gripping him desperately and pulling him in. Several seconds later, he emptied himself for a third time, sticky streams adding to everything he had already given you.

As soon as you both recovered, he moved to pick up your panties, dropping them onto your bare stomach. “Pick any dress you want, but keep the same panties on.”

You made it to the restaurant in time, dressed to the nines and sinful as hell. There was no way to tell which of you were riding more of a high throughout the meal; he still felt dominant, having left his mark on you all day long, while you felt powerful, flaunting your unions with poorly-hidden evidence. It was outrageously dirty, but you both owned it.

By the time you had finished dinner, you were fully sated, all appetites and cravings having been satisfied over that past several hours. Well, almost all of them.

Your server came over to you offering a choice of crème brulee, cheesecake, or tiramisu, but you spoke up before Shunichiro had the opportunity to respond. “No, thank you. He’ll be able to eat dessert at home.”

IM Masterlist

#irresistible mistakes smut #im smut #shunichiro tachibana smut #voltage inc smut #voltage inc fanfiction #irresitable mistakes #im #shunichiro tachibana #voltage inc #love 365

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kay-jay8 · 4 years

Text

Heat and Warmth

It’s hot.

The sun is fading and sets low in the horizons, radiating rays of heat despite the eveningtide as they silently walk along the quiet sidewalk. Nonetheless, the dusting hues of a sunset fashioned an almost surreal scenery while they strolled home after endless hours of lessons. Honestly, islands in the middle of nowhere have the best view in the world, no matter how small of a piece of land it is. Still, even with the cool breeze that flows throughout the isle, the air seems to be getting hotter somehow, which is unusual for someone like Alibaba. Usually, this degree of warmth wouldn’t have bothered him as much as it is now. Under normal conditions, he would barely break a sweat; having been used to living in harsher and more feverish surroundings compared to Sindria’s much cooler, seaside weather. It makes him wonder if he’s adapted to his temporary home well enough to be affected by the change that came with summer slowly creeping in. Or maybe…

“Hey Alibaba.”

“Yeah?” He glances down to his right, trapped in the sight of crimson tresses dancing in gentle waves to the beat of the wind. It’s alluring how the dark locks of her hair catches the sunlight, reflecting and highlighting the deep reds of each strand. He can’t help imagining the flickering of a fire while admiring her soft scarlet hair.

“You’ll be heading back soon, right?” She asks, kicking at a few stray pebbles from under her. Her ruby eyes glow underneath the light of the sunset as she looks forward, watching the burning star silently slip away. “Back to Balbadd...back to your home.”

He takes a moment before answering, taken aback by her sudden question. “...I am.”

“It’s only for the summer. I'll be back a few days before the new semester begins, so I don’t really have to worry about getting caught up with the academy like I had to the year before. I’ll have plenty of time before then. Isn’t that great, Morg? I’ll have a couple of days to hang with you and Aladdin before lessons start up again.” He grins at her, giving her hand intertwined in his a light squeeze.

Morgiana returns his gesture, the tips of her ears turning a rosey pink as she does so.

“Balbadd, what’s it like?”

“Beautiful. When you enter the city, the people there are so alive and cheerful that it makes everything bright and dazzling. They’re kind, they’ll greet you with all sorts of imported trinkets that I just know you’d like. Of course, it’s crowded and people are always in a rush, plus it can get pretty chaotic at times, but, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Street markets are constantly bursting with life, filled to the brim with clothes and foods and all these amazing things from all over the world! Man, I wish you could see it! Nothing is more worthwhile than seeing the people of my country flourishing.”

She listens to him intently, her gemstone orbs sparkling in amazement as he describes his homeland to her. Alibaba can hardly contain his own excitement while reciting memories of the Kingdom of Balbadd.

“That’s why, one day, I want you to be able to see it for yourself, Morgiana.”

They’ve long since stopped walking, paused on the side of the quiet road. There are faint crashes of waves against rocks, the sound of the sea's distinctive call.

“What do you say? When you’ve graduated from Sindria’s Academy and grown a bit more, would you come and see the Kingdom of Balbadd with me?”

“I-I...wah.” She stutters, speechless and wide-eyed. She’s stunned, which is a given. Afterall, an orphan like herself could only dream of traveling to a place as great as Balbadd and with the third prince of the country, no less.

“And I won’t be escorting you as Alibaba Saluja the Crowned Prince of Balbadd, but as Alibaba, son of Anise.”

“Don’t feel pressured to accept, Morg.” He continues, reaching out his hand to wipe away the stray tears that fall from her lashes. “I’m sorry. I'm just being a little selfish. I didn’t mean to make you cry Morgiana, I just wanted you to see how wonderful my country is with your own eyes. It’s enough that, for now, you’re by my side.”

“For now.” She repeats his words, staring into his caramel gaze. “How long will ‘for now’ last? You’ve been crowned the next heir of Balbadd, Alibaba. How long can this go on before it ends? Alibaba, you are a prince with duties and responsibilities that I could never pretend to comprehend. Just how are we going to work when you become king? I have neither the noble blood and the influence to be able to stay by your side.”

“That doesn’t matter, I will find a way for us.”

“And what if you can’t?”

He is silent, he isn’t sure whether it is due to the fact he had no answer for her or that Morgiana, who is always full of determination and hope, is now looking at him with such a hopelessness in her eyes. It hurts him to see her like this, knowing he is the cause of the loss of the gleam in her gaze. “I can’t guarantee that I’ll have an answer for us if that time ever comes, but I will find a way. No matter what.”

“Alibaba…”

He can’t look her in the eye as he pulls her forward into his arms, engulfing her in his larger frame. As a prince, he had a duty to fulfill to both his country and his people. So, giving up the crown was not an option, the both of them knew that much. But he was very much willing and ready to if Morgiana had only let him when his father first announced his crowning.

“Let’s go home for now.” Alibaba finally says after a moment, releasing Morgiana from his hug. “I’m sure Aladdin’s waiting for us.”

“Yeah...okay.”

Her hand is cool when he takes it into his own as he continues to lead them to Sinbad’s palace.

It’s dark and there is no trace of the sun in the blanket of twilight dusk, but the heat of the sunlight still remains.

things to note:

this is set in a au. which one? im not sure about that myself lol

alibaba's older brothers are no long inline for succession to the throne due to the exact reasons the previous king of Balbadd had mentioned before his death in the anime/manga. (Ahbmad having been taken down and Sahbmad stepping down from position as potential kings)

alibaba and morgiana are together in this fic

Sindria is still a kingdom ruled under Sinbad (alibaba staying with him as the son of a dear friend, while Morgiana is Masrur's adopted niece)

the academy is a institution of learning for future leaders and anyone with the potential of becoming leaders. Sinbad created this school to keep count of and make connections with different countries as well as their future rulers

morgiana is only able to attend because she is Masrur's niece

alimor's relationship is a secret, give or take a few friend who know about it

alibaba is in Sindria to learn and grow to be a better king (was sent by his father)

anise is still dead

kassim/cassim is still alive, but is one of the reasons why alibaba was sent to Sindria

If you have any questions, feel free to ask! :)

also: check out my other works @Kay_jay88

#magi #magi: the kingdom of magic #magi: the labyrinth of magic #alibaba #alibaba saluja #morgiana #aladdín #sinbad #alimor #alibabaxmorgiana #alibaba x morgiana #ao3fic #ao3

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pointedly-foolish · 4 years

Text

[ вut "sєntímєntαl вσч" ís mч nσm dє plumє ]

word count: 1916

pairing: connor/gn!reader

genre: slight fluff; hurt no comfort

a/n: everytime i convince myself i came out of my dbh hyperfixation i just look at connor and i become lovesick again.

gosh i know i should be finishing my other fic or work on the prologue script for my vn, but,,,,,,, i just had a sudden hankering for connor angst,,,,

written during a sleep deprivation induced moment of epiphany,,,,, (purple prose cuz im extra af uwu)

I’ve never written angst before so i’d love to hear your thoughts on it

you did what you were designed to do.

no matter how much he begged and cried for it.

he laughed bitterly, devoid of any humour. it was funny, just how cruel the fates were: made human life so fleeting. lachesis only gave them such a short eternity. and when he thought you both found your missing halves, bound to another by an invisible string, atropos cuts it. a small snippet that is so easily ripped away from you. he belonged with you, he felt at peace with you. he was able to be what he struggled to be for the majority of his miserable and artificial existence. with you, he was able to be happy.

instead he was faced with the bitter reminder that the last thing he’s ever said to you, your last memory of him, was a contemptuous and scornful « i wished i never met you ».

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#detroit: become human #connor detroit: become human #connor x reader #connor dbh #connor rk800 #falsely writes

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tonystarkstan · 6 years

Text

you’re still young (that’s not your fault)

Summary: Being a superhero? Hard. Being a superhero in high school? Harder. Luckily, he’s got Iron Man on his side.

or, five times Tony goes to Peter’s school and one time Peter goes with him to work.

Note: This is posted on my AO3, but it’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, so I thought I’d share it here! I hope you guys like it.

“So like, the issue is that I like learning and I need to go to school to get a good education in order to be qualified for an actual career,” Peter tells Ned as they stand at their lockers.

“How is that an issue?” Ned asks in confusion.

Peter sighs dramatically. “I hate school,” he says, as if that explains everything.

Ned nods sympathetically. “Makes sense. Oh, the joys of social hierarchy. Also, I forgot the solubility rules, so I totally bombed that part of the quiz today. Which means I’m probably going to fail, which means I’ll be kicked out of school, which means I’ll have to work at McDonald’s for the rest of my life and live off of a minimum wage salary.”

Peter pats his back consolingly. “You and me both, man. School just proves what we already knew: the world is conspiring against us.”

Ned scoffs. “Okay, but at least you have Spider-Man,” he points out, saying the name quietly so no one overhears.

Peter gives him a weird look. “Oh yeah, loved getting bitten by a fucking radioactive spider. It was like getting a kiss from Mother Nature.”

Ned shrugs. “Who cares? You’re staying with Tony freaking Stark. How is that, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s great!” he says enthusiastically. “The man has, like, zero parenting skills, so I get to eat whatever I want, and we just stay in his lab all night.”

“Dude, your life is so not real,” Ned says incredulously. “Have you heard from May?”

“Yeah, she said she’ll probably be home this weekend. I think she feels bad, but her work really needed extra hands with the hurricane relief, so it’s fine.”

“Gotcha. Hey, what do you – whoa!” Ned exclaims. “What’s going on?”

As they turn the corner, as large mass of students clogs the hall, all trying to peer over each other to get a look at whatever’s caught their attention. Before Ned and Peter can get any closer, though, the crowd parts down the middle by a seemingly invisible force.

That is, until Tony Stark steps through.

As usual, he’s wearing a three-piece suit, his trademark sunglasses, and in his hands is – what the fuck? – a Spider-Man lunchbox.

Tony’s eyes lands on the pair of them, and he casually makes his way over to them, as if Iron Man walking through a high school is normal.

“Hey, Pete! I was just looking for you,” he informs Peter.

“Hi, uh, Mr. Stark. Um. Hi. What are you, uh, doing here?” he asks, trying to ignore all the blatant stares that are now focused on them.

“What? A billionaire can’t just come by to see his favorite mentee?” He’s smirking though, and Peter knows the superhero is taking great pleasure out of embarrassing him.

“No,” he retorts flatly.

Tony puts his hand on his chest dramatically. “Oh, how you wound me. Betrayed! By one of my very own! What ever did I do to deserve such treatment?”

“Jesus Christ,” Peter mutters. “What do you want? Ned and I were just about to head to lunch.”

“Ah ha! And that is where I come in. I am, as usual, here to save the day.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and gives him an unimpressed look. Tony huffs. “Sheesh, tough crowd to please, apparently.” He holds out the lunchbox. “Lunch. You left your’s.”

Peter thinks back, suddenly remembering that oh yeah, he definitely did leave his lunch on the counter. However, it’d been in his old Star Wars lunchbox that he’d had as long as he could remember.

Noticing his look, Tony gestures to the bag. “I took the liberty of getting you an upgrade. We all know how much you like Spider-Man.”

Yup, I’m definitely filling his Iron Man helmet with ramen noodles now.

“Wow. Thanks,” he says, sounding anything but. He takes the bag gingerly. “Now I won’t starve. A true hero you are. Really living up to your name.”

Tony pretends to blush. “You’re too kind. I’m just here as a completely selfless act of service.”

“Sure. So, can you, like, leave?” Peter says impatiently.

Tony shoots him an affronted look. “Well, I know when I’m not welcome. Which, let’s be honest, never actually happens because I’m a famous genius billionaire. But I really do have to get going.”

“Oh, thank god,” Peter breathes. Tony laughs and ruffles the kid’s hair, knowing it’s all in jest.

“See ya later, kid.” He turns to Ned. “And you – be sure he actually eats it.” Ned looks like he’s about to faint. And with that, Tony turns on his heel and struts out, leaving behind a bunch of astonished high schoolers. Peter’s pretty sure Flash’s jaw is about to hit the floor.

After a second of stunned silence, Ned looks over at Peter and smirks. “What was it you were saying earlier about ‘zero parenting skills’?”

Peter groans. “Shut up.”

Ned’s laughter is drowned out by the mass of students headed excitedly in their direction.

“Dude, you look like shit,” is how Ned greets him.

Peter doesn’t even have the energy to be offended. He certainly feels like shit, flashes of hot and cold racing through his body and forehead beading with sweat.

“It’s fine, we’re fine,” Peter says, not at all reassuringly.

“Yeah, okay,” Ned scoffs. “Why are you even here?”

Peter sags against his locker tiredly. “We’re supposed to be going over Shell integration and the Trapezoidal rule in calc today. I can’t afford to miss it. Also, we have decathlon practice after school today and MJ will kill me if I miss it. Again.”

He startles when a light slap meets the back of his head.

“Speak for yourself, loser. We don’t want your disease,” MJ says from behind him.

“Sorry, May raised me to always share,” Peter jokes. “Anywho, it’s too late for me to go home now. May’s already left for work. What a shame.”

MJ just rolls his eyes but Ned tosses him a doubtful look.

“Come on!” Peter protests. “Seriously, I don’t even feel that bad!”

Three class periods later, Peter’s more than ready to retract his earlier statement. He definitely feels that bad.

He’s in the middle of Anatomy class, and he can’t, for the life of him, keep his head up. His muscles are aching just with the small bit of effort it’s taking to use an arm to prop his head up, and he’s so, so hot but can’t seem to stop quivering.

At this point, he’s completely tuned out the teacher, entirely focused on trying to keep himself from throwing up in the middle of class because God knows Flash would never let him live that down.

His phone buzzes.

Chair Guy: dude

Chair Guy: you look like an actual zombie

Peter groans internally.

Friendly Neighborhood Peter: thanks.

Chair Guy: hey I have a great idea bc im a genius who goes to a smart kid school!!!!

Chair Guy: go :) home :)

Friendly Neighborhood Peter: no :)

Peter quickly puts his phone away, and he sees Ned shake his head in exasperation. The rest of the class passes by in a cloudy haze of sickness, and he blinks up blearily when a shadowy figure stands in front of him.

“Peter. Peter! Yo. Dude, come on, class is over. Even Dr. Arrington has left,” Ned informs him.

Peter groans, tossing an arm over his eyes with the thought that maybe if he doesn’t look at Ned, he’ll just go away.

No such luck. “Peter, if you don’t get up, I’m calling May.”

Immediately, Peter’s head shoots up, and he winces as the dull throb in his head intensifies.

“You can’t! She’s at work, her phone’s off anyway because she’s not allowed to be on it. Plus, I still have Calc! And Decathlon!” he protests, but even he can hear how weak it sounds.

Ned just rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure at this point, MJ would kick your ass if you showed up to practice. Go home and we’ll all send you a ‘Thank You’ card.”

Peter swats at him weakly.

“Peter, seriously. We gotta go,” Ned says, hoisting Peter’s bookbag onto his back. “Think you can get up?”

The vigilante stares at him blankly. Ned sighs.

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles to himself. “We are not fucking doing this.” Louder, he says, “Peter, give me your phone.”

The exhausted teen tiredly reaches into his pocket, groaning at how heavy an achy his arms are. He hands his friend the phone. If he were more aware of what’s going on, he ‘d be much more suspicious. However, at the moment, Peter wants nothing more than for his friend to stop talking so the pounding in his head will cease.

“Thank you. Stay here for a second,” Ned tells him, and Peter doesn’t even question it. Not like he could move even if he wanted to.

Maybe I can Uber to my Spanish class, his feverish brain thinks.

He’s not actually sure how long he drifts in and out of clarity, but at some point, he opens his eyes to feel a gentle hand carding its way through his hair, and he instinctively leans in towards it.

“Hey, Pete,” a soft voice says. It’s a nice voice, Peter thinks. Not too rough, but just enough gravel in it to create a low comforting sound. And it’s… vaguely familiar.

Peter lowers his eyebrows in confusion and wills his eyes to open – when did he even close them? – so he can see the owner of the familiar voice.

“There we go. He’s alive! A true miracle.”

Peter nearly closes his eyes again, because obviously he’s still dreaming. There is no way that Tony freaking Stark is kneeling in front of him, stroking his hair, and gently coaxing him awake. Not possible.

“Yeah, it’s me, kiddo,” Tony says, obviously reading the surprise on his face. “To be fair, I’m probably just as surprised at this development as you are, but your friend Ted, here –“ he gestures to said teen who offers nothing more than a shrug “ –called Happy saying that you’re dying, and we just happened to be in the area, and I also happen to be a superhero. So.”

Unreal, Peter thinks, and closes his eyes, ready to let unconsciousness swallow him whole.

“Ah ah – no. Nap time for the spider baby later,” Tony jokes, but Peter cracks his eyes open to see the worry lining his mentor’s face. “I say we blow this popsicle stand.”

Peter nearly sags with relief at how good that sounds. He’d do just about anything to sleep. But then he remembers why he’d been so determined not to stay home in the first place.

“I can’t!” he protests, finally speaking up. “Calc. Integration.”

Tony stares at him in disbelief, and then turns to Ned, who’s still watching the exchange with a look of awe.

“Did he just say what I think he just said?” he asks incredulously.

Ned just gives him a long-suffering look and nods. “Yeah. He’s dumb.”

Tony scoffs. “That’s an overstatement,” he grumbles under his breath. Louder, he says, “Peter, you do realize that you’re literally talking to a genius, right? An actual engineer who literally built a flying suit? And the arc reactor? I think I can teach you some damn calculus. Goodness gracious.”

Peter just blinks at him. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Tony repeats, but he can’t help surge of utter fondness that rushes through him at the sight of the tired kid, still pressing into the hand in his hair.

“Come on. Happy’s waiting for us. I’ve never actually dealt with a sick – anything – before, so this’ll be a great learning experience for the both of us,” Tony says conversationally. He gets up, groaning at the ache in his knees, and takes Peter’s bag from Ned.

Peter immediately lets out a whine at the loss of contact. The noise strikes a chord deep within Tony, and he tries not to think too hard about it.

“Sorry, kid. Come on, up you go,” he encourages, hoisting the kid to his feet. Peter sways tiredly on his feet, and Tony is quick to steady him.

“Whoa, I got you,” Tony soothes. He runs a quick hand over the kid’s forehead and lets out a low whistle at the heat that meets his hand. “Sleep. You need lots of it. So do I, actually. What do you say we get to Happy before the evil man makes us walk?”

Peter smiles weakly and nods, stumbling beside his mentor, thoughts going blurry again as they make their way to the front of the school.

As promised, Happy is waiting for them, and it takes a little while longer to wrestle the kid’s lanky limbs into the car and across the backseat. Again, Peter lets out a whimper at the loss of contact, and Tony coughs to cover the soft smile that’s threatening to appear as he slides in next to the teen.

And if his hands end up back in Peter’s hair?

Well, no one ever has to know.

It was a stupid argument, if you could even call it that. Really, it was just Flash being a dumbass, as usual. Which, usually is a thing that Peter can handle – is used to handling – but today is just not one of those days.

Patrol last night had been rough, more mentally taxing than usual. Peter’s not exactly sure what about it made it so, but it left him wired up with an anxiety that followed him into sleep, prompting unwelcome nightmares and flashbacks of a variety he hadn’t experienced in a while.

Truth be told, he knows it’s kind of his own fault. He’s been overworking himself, staying out longer and longer as Spider-Man, coming back by May’s curfew only to sneak out hours later when he hears her breathing even out.

Then he comes back and works on homework and studying, getting a mere two or three hours of fitful sleep, surviving mostly on coffee and pure, stubborn willpower throughout the day. This all does nothing to calm the ever-growing wave of anxiety.

So, to be fair, this was probably a long time coming.

Flash just happened to be the catalyst.

Peter and Ned sat in their usual spot in the cafeteria, Peter comparing his homework answers with Ned’s. When Flash walks up, Peter immediately tenses, already preparing himself for an onslaught of insults.

(And how stupid is that? He’s Spider-Man and yet he’s reduced to nothing at the mercy of a stupid high school bully.)

“Hey, Penis! Ready to get your ass beat in the science fair this weekend?” Flash mocks. And to be honest, Peter finished his project weeks ago in the confines of Tony’s lab, analyzing how robotics can be used to enhance prosthetics and make them more effective and efficient.

And, at this point, he’s so tired, he doesn’t actually care who wins. He never did, really.

“Isn’t ‘Penis’ a little old by now? Surely you can be more inventive than that,” Peter taunts. And yeah, maybe not his smartest move ever, but whatever.

Flash flounders for a second, unsure of how to respond, before his face clears again. “I could, but this one suits you best. It’s kind of iconic, don’t you think?”

“Hey, Flash, you know what’s funny?” Ned steps in suddenly, and Peter groans. “How Peter’s smart enough to land an internship with Stark Industries, and you haven’t even heard back yet.”

Flash flushes with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “Yeah, and how much do you suppose your little sidekick has to pay just to polish Tony Stark’s shoes? You know, there’s actually been speculation that there’s a something a little more – should we say? – kinky going on there,” Flash says with a suggestive smirk, and Peter immediately sees red at the very implication of his hero doing something like that.

“Shut the fuck up, Flash,” Peter snarls angrily, and Flash narrows his eyes at him coldly.

“What was that, Penis?”

Peter stands up, well and truly angry now. “I said ‘Shut up.’ You don’t know anything about him. And I’m sorry you couldn’t get an internship with him when I could, but I guess Stark Industries knows talent when it – “

A sudden flash of cold and wet leaves Peter sputtering. He barely registers the fact that Flash is standing in front of him, the cup in his hand totally empty, because the wave of anxiety that’s been building up the last few days decides then and there to pull Peter under.

No longer is he in his high school cafeteria. No, he’s back in the lake, alone and tangled and trying so hard to break free of his confines. The water is cold, seeps straight to his very bones, and against his will, his lungs take a desperate breath in, but all he gets is more water.

He can’t fucking breathe.

God, what if he dies like this? Just a useless body floating on a lake, and maybe it’ll be days before he’s found, and May – oh god, May! – will be left completely alone to deal with another bout of grieving.

And Peter – god, he doesn’t want to die, he’s not ready to do that yet, he’s supposed to graduate and watch the next Star Wars movie release with Ned and there are so many more people he needs to save, and also he’s just plain scared.

If only he could breathe.

“Peter!”

The unexpected and familiar voice shocks him, and he flails towards it, hoping it’ll bring him closer to the surface.

“I’m right here, bud, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” the voice tells him, and it sounds so convincing and real and soothing that he tries with everything in him to believe it.

“Hey, it’s me – Tony. I’m right next to you, and we’re both in your crappy school cafeteria,” the voice – Tony – informs him, and Peter frowns in confusion because Tony shouldn’t be here, he’s going to drown, too.

“Tony,” he gasps, hands finding purchase in warm fabric. Dry. It’s dry! But – what?

“Yeah, kiddo, it’s me. Open your eyes and look at me. It’s okay, I promise,” Tony coaxes him. And because he’s never had a reason not to trust him mentor, Peter cracks his eyes open, immediately cringing at the water that drips into his eyes.

“That’s it, good job,” Tony encourages, and Peter tries to let the sight of his mentor drown out the feel of water burning his nose.

“Mr. Stark?” he asks in a small voice. “W-what? I-I don’t – “

“Shhh, it’s all fine. You’re at school. You had a pretty bad panic attack. Your aunt wasn’t picking up, so they called me,” Tony explains. Peter takes in everything around him, drinking in the sight of the now completely empty cafeteria, save for him and Tony.

“I didn’t – I didn’t mean – I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, cheeks flushing red with shame. Tony gives him an incredulous look.

“Peter,” he says gently, reaching out to tilt the boy’s face up. “Look at me. You didn’t do anything wrong. You never have to apologize for something like this.” Tony’s gaze darkens suddenly. “The only person who should be apologizing for anything is the childish, cruel, immature bully who did this to you.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest. “No – it wasn’t his fault! He didn’t know that would happen.”

“And that makes it okay?” Tony scoffs. “No, kid. That’s all on him.”

Peter stays silent, not willing to admit the man is right, as usual. Tony studies him for a moment, then lets out a heavy sigh.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks the teen.

“Fine,” Peter lies instinctively. Tony just raises an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know. That – that wasn’t supposed to happen. Usually I have it under control,” he says, looking frustrated.

“It?” Tony prompts.

Peter tugs anxiously on his shoelace. “I guess sometimes I still think about the lake? Because I was tangled and stuck and it was – “ He cuts off, throat closing abruptly. Tony puts a hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

“Scary,” Tony finishes for him. Peter just looks down. Tony sighs again, looking more tired than ever. “Pete, you gotta keep me in the loop with these things. And if not me, then May or Ned or someone you trust. It’s okay to feel like this. Hell, I’m scared all the damn time.”

Peter looks surprised at the confession. “What?”

Tony laughs bitterly. “How do you think I became Iron Man in the first place? It was because I’m scared. My suit? It literally just started out as a physical manifestation of my anxiety.”

“Does it get better?” Peter asks, and he looks so small in this moment that Tony’s heart cracks right down the middle.

Tony hesitates before answering. “Yeah, kid. It does. But it takes a while, and it might not ever go completely away. You just have to communicate with us. Think you can do that?” Tony asks, looking Peter straight in the eye.

Peter swallows thickly and nods. “Yeah.”

Tony looks intently at him for another moment and then nods in satisfaction. He moves to get up and groans. “Fantastic. I think all that emotion just gave me heartburn,” he complains, rubbing his chest dramatically.

Peter smiles, the somber atmosphere broken. “Or maybe you’re just old,” he jokes.

Tony pretends to look offended. “Rude. Offensive. You owe me one whole compliment for that.”

“Nope,” Peter says. Tony nudges him gently.

“Oh, come on. No nice things to say about your favorite superhero?”

“Who said you’re my favorite superhero?” Peter smirks deviously.

Tony’s eyes widen in mock hurt as Peter gets up and starts to walk out without him. “Two compliments! Now you owe me two!” Tony calls as he walks after him.

And Peter’s answering laugh? Totally worth it.

First of all, the fact that aliens decided to attack New York City during school hours? Rude.

Which is Peter’s first thought when Tony calls him right before his fourth class of the day. It goes a little something like this:

“Kid. We’ve got aliens attacking New York – again, don’t they ever learn? – and it’s all hands on deck,” Tony informs him.

Immediately, Peter lights up with excitement, already feeling the first shots of adrenaline at even the thought of fighting with the Avengers again.

“Yes, of course!” he gasps excitedly, making a beeline for his locker to grab his suit.

“Great, meet us at – “

“Hey, loser,” MJ greets, not caring that Peter’s on the phone. “Where are your safety glasses? You need them for lab today.”

“Shit,” Peter mutters, feeling his heart drop to his feet, because normally, hell yeah, he’d skip class to go fight with the freaking Avengers! Except today’s lab counts as one of three big exam grades and he literally cannot miss it.

“What was that?” Tony asks, sounding preoccupied.

“Uh, Mr. Stark? Can the emergency wait, like, an hour?” Peter stammers. Immediately Tony’s full attention goes back to the teen.

“What?” he demands sharply. “Why?” There’s a pause in which Peter is more than reluctant to answer, but Tony catches on quickly and groans. “Oh, Jesus Christ. Let me guess: Spanish test?”

“Chem lab,” Peter mumbles. He can practically hear Tony rolling his eyes.

“Kid, you can make it up. New York needs you right now,” Tony says matter-of-factly.

“But, Mr. Stark! I won’t be able to make this up, she said the only way we can miss it is if we’re in the hospital dying or it’s an extreme emergency,” Peter protests.

“So aliens aren’t an emergency now?” Tony deadpans.

“I mean, yeah, but I can’t exactly go up to her and say that I need to leave for something like that!” Peter says delicately, conscious of MJ standing nearby with a bored expression. “Anywho, I’ll be there in like an hour tops, I promise,” he says quickly before hanging up, and oh boy, he’s going to get an earful for that later.

Immediately, his phone starts buzzing again but he stuffs it in his bookbag hastily. MJ gives him a weird look.

“Your boss is fucking weird,” she comments.

“Tell me about it,” Peter mutters as they walk into class.

They sit down at one of the lab benches and wait for their teacher to start giving them instructions. Today’s lab is the Synthesis of Aspirin, and yeah, nothing they’ve done so far is nearly as cool or advanced as his web fluid or the stuff he makes in Tony’s lab, but he’s still excited. And nervous. Because he really needs a good grade on this.

Once instructions are given, Peter and MJ start methodically setting up lab equipment. Peter’s getting the hot water bath ready while MJ measures out the salicylic acid when a sudden hush falls over the room.

Curious, Peter and MJ both look up to see what’s going on and Peter immediately wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

Tony is standing in the doorway.

He strolls in with calm strides and a casual confidence and walks right up to the teacher.

“Hello, Dr. Mead. I’m terribly sorry, but we need to take Peter out of class. There’s an emergency at Stark Industries, and it’s sort of all hands on deck. He’s our best intern, after all,” he says charmingly.

She looks flustered in a way that Peter never imagined he would ever see of his usually very collected teacher.

“Um, I understand, but this lab is an exam. Is there any way it can wait after?” she asks hopefully, and honestly, Peter admires her for not just immediately caving into him.

Then Tony takes off his trademark sunglasses and looks at her with such a stern look that Peter immediately resolves to buy her the best teacher appreciation gift ever.

“I’m afraid not. This is a matter of utmost importance. Surely you have make-up labs?” he asks in such a way that implies the only correct answer is yes.

Dr. Mead opens her mouth as if to protest before finally just settling on saying nothing at all, before turning to the back of the class, where Peter is resisting the urge to hide under the lab bench.

“Mr. Parker, you may be excused. We can discuss make-up times later,” she announces, and Tony smirks, triumphant.

Peter’s face burns with embarrassment as he grabs his bag and walks out the room, feeling everyone’s eyes on him.

Tony ruffles his hair, and Peter swats at it in mock irritation.

“Was that all really necessary?” Peter demands when they’re alone in the hall. Tony shrugs.

“Nah. But then you hung up on me, and I’m petty,” he says. “But actually, I was already on my way to come get you. Cap, Nat, and Rhodes have got the situation contained, but they could really use some help, and we’re the only ones around.”

Peter, now that he’s not so worried about his grade, perks up with excitement again. “Man, this is so exciting!”

Tony gives him a fond look. Only Peter would find an alien attack exciting.

“Sure, kid. Now let’s go kick some alien ass.”

At first, there’s nothing to indicate why Peter’s spidey sense is suddenly going off like a blaring alarm.

His whole body is seizing with panic, everything in him screaming danger! But he strains his ears to listen for anything out of the ordinary and turns up empty, so he just shrugs and chalks it up to his anxiety going into overdrive.

Later on, he’ll hate himself for it.

Not even five minutes later, deep he hears it, clear as day: the crack of a bullet, one after another.

He shoots up in his desk, on high alert, and everyone around him starts looking around in confusion, not really comprehending the noise. For a second, he’s right along with them, not quite willing to believe that he’s hearing what he’s hearing, because no fucking way is this happening right now.

Then he hears the scream.

It cuts through the haze of the confusion that had clouded the room, and immediately Mr. Johnson runs to the door, knocking off the lights and covering the door window, and everyone is pushing to the back of the room.

Peter takes the moment of chaos to grab his suit out of his bag, and quietly slips out the other window, hoping that everyone was too preoccupied to notice.

“Hello, Peter,” Karen greets pleasantly.

“Karen!” Peter says urgently. “Call 911 and tell them there’s a shooter at Midtown. Contact Mr. Stark. Activate Stealth Mode.”

“Got it,” she says, and then a silence follows wherein Peter assumes she’s following his directions.

Without further pause, Peter quickly follows the sounds of students screaming and gunshots, praying and praying that no one’s bit hit.

“Peter,” Karen says, “Mr. Stark says to stay put; he and some of the crew are on the way, and so are the police. You are not to engage with the shooter.”

All it takes is another piercing scream for Peter to decide that’s definitely not what he’s going to do. He can hear students near the exits evacuating, but as he goes deeper into the school, it becomes eerily quiet. He tries not to focus on the hundreds of heartbeats skyrocketing in fear.

He rounds a corner and finds a student curled up under a water fountain, shaking and crying. She jumps and whimpers in fear when he enters her line of sight, eyes flooding with relief when she realizes who he is.

“Sp-Spider-Man,” she gasps, tears streaming down her face. He quickly shushes her, not wanting to draw any attention to them in case the intruder is nearby.

She shakes her head insistently. “H-He already c-came by. He’s at-at the classrooms b-by the audi-auditorium.”

Peter nods in determination. “I’ll take care of it. You need to stay hidden. If other people start running, join them. Stay quiet. You’re doing so good.”

And fuck, Peter doesn’t even know if that’s the right advice, because this is so much different than anything he’s ever dealt with before. These are his classmates – his friends – who’s lives are being threatened.

As he nears the auditorium, everything seems more still and foreboding, and he can hear a single set of footsteps walking calmly across the floor. Peter leaps up to the ceiling and rounds another corner.

He nearly falls back down at the sight that meets him.

The first door to his right his open, a body lay strewn in the doorway, and something in Peter’s brain shuts down, absolutely refuses to acknowledge the reality of the sight before his, refuses to go into the room in fear of what else he might find.

He hears gasps and soft sobs, but he pushes it all away and lets his gaze zero in on the figure at the end of the hall, gun raised towards another classroom.

The sound of the bullet, this time, is deafening, and Peter wastes no time before crawling until he’s just above the figure.

In the blink of an eye, Peter’s on top of him, wrestling the gun out of his grip and punching the guy with a ferocity that’s unfamiliar. He hits. And hits and hits and hits, because this guy attacked the wrong fucking school and those are Peter’s friends.

Peter sees red, flashes of anger and blood and oh god his friends, are they okay? And it hits him, suddenly, the gravity of everything that’s happened in the last ten minutes, the way his school will never be the same because of one person’s decision.

“Spider-Man, stand down,” a voice cuts through the haze, but he ignores it in favor of tossing another punch, but before he can, a metal hand wraps itself around his wrist.

“No!” he snarls. “This one deserves it!” He fights against the arms that wrap around his waist, thrashing against the hold.

“Kid. It’s me, Tony. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We’ll take care of him, you’ve done great. Your job here is done.”

With those words, Peter sags against his mentor, allowing the hard armor to support him and the weight of everything to sink in.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Tony says, gently picking the young hero up and letting the police come in and take over. No one even bothers to question him. It’s common knowledge that Spider-Man and Iron Man are close, and no one is willing to get him in trouble for beating the shit out of someone who deserved it.

Tony cradles the kid’s head to his chest, no longer caring who sees, only focusing on getting Peter out of there. Steve, Sam, and Natasha can handle the rest, he figures. There are cops everywhere, and scared students are being rushed out in a line to meet desperate parents waiting for them outside.

Happy is waiting for them, and Tony has never been more grateful for his status as Iron Man than now; no one tries to stop him.

Tony quickly deactivates his suit and gets the kid in, settling them both into the back seat, and Happy wastes no time trying to push his car through the crowd, glancing back at the duo with deep worry etched into his features.

Peter hasn’t said a word, and they’re halfway back to the Tower, where May is meeting them, when the teen starts shaking violently, clinging to Tony.

“Oh god,” Peter sobs, pulling his mask off, and Tony absolutely breaks at the raw terror and grief on the kid’s face as the weight of what’s happened hits him. “Tony,” he gasps, pulling his mentor closer.

Tony wraps his arms around the kid, hugging him with an unprecedented fervor. “Shhh, it’s okay now. I’m right here.”

But Peter’s hyperventilating now, tears soaking the man’s shirt. “I-I couldn’t – I was too late. I think – I think – Tony, I saw – “ and he doesn’t get past that, because he can’t. He can’t make the words push past his lips.

If he doesn’t say them, maybe they won’t be true.

Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into Tony’s chest, crying violently.

And Tony? Tony doesn’t know what else to do other than murmur soft words of comfort that he knows are falling on deaf ears. So he settles back in his seat, Peter practically in his lap, and runs his fingers soothingly through the kid’s hair. It’s going to be a long road to recovery, he knows.

But he’s in this for the long haul.

“No.”

Tony stands against his desk, arms crossed and sending a flat look to Pepper, who’s looking at him with an equally determined expression on his face.

“Tony, come on,” she says in exasperation. “He’d be thrilled, and if nothing else, it’d be great PR. I think people would really like seeing you be so invested in an intern, personally taking him for a deeper look at what you do.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Pep, Peter’s already seen what I do. Hell, he practically lives in the lab after school. He literally has his own room here.”

“Sure, but he only ever sees Tony, his hero, mentor, and father figure.” Tony opens his mouth to protest that last label, but Pepper cuts him off. “Shut up, it’s true and you know it. Now, as I was saying, I think it’d be really beneficial for him to see you as Tony Stark, a business man, company owner, and employer.”

“The answer is still no!” Tony says.

And yet somehow, that conversation led up to now, with Peter standing awkwardly at his side at eight in the morning, staring at the main floor of Stark Industries with awe on Take Your Kid to Work Day.

“Mr. Stark, thisissocool!” Peter exclaims in one big breath. Around him, workers are bustling about. Tony, quite frankly, can’t believe he’s never taken his fake intern into the main part of his building. A careless oversight. It’s impressive, really, that the whole “internship” story has managed to hold up for this long.

“Whoa, calm down, kid,” he says, watching the kid fondly as he practically buzzes with excitement. Peter looks at him with wide eyes.

“What are we going to do today? Are you going to boss a bunch of people around? Build stuff? Paperwork? Now that I think about it, what do you even do?” Peter asks, sounding breathless. Tony just shakes his head in awe, wondering how after all this time, the kid can look at him like he hung the moon.

(And he would. He’d hang a thousand moons if that’s what Peter wanted.)

“Well, first of all, Pepper’s usually the one who bosses me around, so I’m sure you’ll get to see some of that today. We have a press conference at one. Oh, don’t worry, it’s no big deal. We’ll introduce you as one of SI’s interns and explain that I decided to take this day, when a lot of other kids would be around, to show you the ins and outs of what I do. They’ll love it,” he reassures.

And they do.

But Tony’s not surprised, really. The kid has a way of getting everyone wrapped around his finger.

Peter, awkward and nervous at first, quickly gains a bit of confidence, occasionally answering a reporter’s questions with typical teenage sass, but always with a soft smile so as not to offend.

“How did you two meet?” one curious reporter asks. Tony puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Well, this one here is a huge dumpster diver. I actually got an opportunity to see his skills at fixing and making tech with natural ease, so I encouraged him to fill out an application for the internship. His application was outstanding, to say the least, and the rest, as they say, is history,” Tony says with a smile.

“Peter, were you a fan of Iron Man even before the internship?” another reporter asks.

Peter laughs. “I mean, who wasn’t? But really, I was always a bigger fan of Mr. Stark himself. The work he’s done to create a clean source of renewable energy? That’s insane! I can only dream of making strides like that. I watched a documentary on his robots over the years when I was younger, and I remember thinking, ‘I want to be like him!’ It’s actually what led me to start dumpster diving and fixing old tech. I never even imagined it could lead me to work under the man who inspired me.”

Peter shrugs, missing Tony’s stunned gaze trained on him, while the reporters listen with rapt attention.

“So yeah. Iron Man is amazing and all, but the real hero is the man underneath the suit, which I think people like to forget. The suit isn’t heroic – it’s the man underneath it that is.”

Tony is speechless. Absolutely speechless and completely overcome with an emotion he can’t quite identify as Peter looks over at him and offers him a shy small, as if worried he’s maybe said something wrong.

Tony’s throat clogs with the amounting of affection he has for the awkward, precious, genius, and selfless fucking kid, and he’s nearly knocked off his chair by the force of it. He clears his throat roughly, before addressing the crowd that’s busy melting.

“As you can see,” he says, wrapping an arm around the teen. “I brainwash my interns well.”

The crowd laughs, and the spell of emotion is broken.

However, when Tony goes down to his lab that night, long after Peter’s been dropped back off at home by Happy, he finds a sticky note attached to one of his computers, the messy scrawl deeply familiar.

There’s only four words, but they make Tony’s heart swell in his chest.

I meant every word. -P

#fanfic #peter parker #tony stark #iron dad #spider son #ned leeds #michelle jones #5+1 things #sickfic #whump #angst #humor #avengers #tw: school shooting #tw: panic attack

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domesticangel · 5 years

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here’s a big ol dump of art thats been sitting in my folders for anywhere between 1-3 years that at this point ill probably never finish to accompany some Really Long rambling under the cut

im a junior in college now (””should be”” a senior/whatever that means/since i took a gap year but) but when i was in my like....sophomore-senior years of high school i drew like.....every. freaking. day. like literally i feel like i would draw like, 1 or 2 fully fleshed out, give-all-my-attention to type drawings every single day of my life, and i always had so much fun doing it.

after having a while to self-reflect though ive concluded theres kind of some layers to this. because i figure theres at least a little romanticization of the past going on, because i KNOW i wasn't a very happy person in high school; in fact, mental health wise, late high school into my freshman year of college was probably my very lowest point. i did lack motivation at these points, but not for drawing; i kind of put off school work and college prep, which wasn't good, but drew like HELL every single day, and pretty much all of it was fan art. thats one of the main differences between me then and me now; i used to dedicate so much of my time and energy to “fandom” and the media i was into, and it totally fueled my desire to draw, whereas now, i obviously still enjoy different series, but... my life doesn't really revolve around them like it used to.

the way i see it, i think i definitely used to use media and fandom participation as a form of escapism, but not really the good kind... i think it was more of a maladaptive obsession i failed to keep in check that i know for a fact really got in the way of my schoolwork, and i only doubled down when it came time to apply to colleges, because of course that stressed me out and scared me; during times like that, which was almost always due to my mental health issues at the time, i clung to fandom because its what brought me comfort and kind of shielded me from my responsibilities.

either way, that obsession with whatever media i was into at any given time is also what i think gave me that desire to draw all the time that i miss so much. i think being THAT invested in something is what actually gave me the constant desire to create, and being able to create something and feel accomplished in something without having to face anything uncertain or scary kept me totally hooked. so its weird trying to parse how i feel about that time period in my life.

on one hand, my mental health has gotten SO much better. obviously ive matured a lot since high school, so over time ive learned about much better coping mechanisms and ideas about mental health, ive gotten on a medication that works for me, and ive really gotten into my major so I'm really enjoying school as well. and obviously this is progress that i would never, ever, just want to give up or throw away. however, its also this progress that seems to have inadvertently influenced how often i draw, because I'm no longer fully diving into media/fandom because i dont need that escapism anymore, and therefore i don't have this like, feverish, obsession-fueled desire to draw like i used to. its kind of a double edged sword i guess and something i don't have a clear answer to.

i also think another factor i can't ignore is that i used to have a very large following in a lot of fandoms on tumblr, and if i remember correctly before i deleted my old tumblr i had around 12,000 followers that i had accumulated over probably the course of about 5 years. so that meant that my fan art got a LOT of attention. not to sound like hur-de-blur-social-media-is-evil but like at least in my personal experience, i kind of taught myself to think, “your art is only worth something if it gains a huge, instantaneous reaction, and peoples’ reaction to your art is the ONLY thing that decides its value.” and thinking like that really has hurt how i feel about my art over time! often times, after deleting my tumblr, i would find myself thinking, “well whats the point in doing any art, because nobodys going to see it anyway” so i honestly didn't draw or feel anything for art for a long, long time. in that time i channeled my feelings and energy into much more harmful activities, and i really could've used art at the time, but it had become such a worthless concept in my head since i could no longer associate it with immediate praise and attention.

i forgot a lot of important things about art, most importantly, how it could be fulfilling to just ME and that that was ok. i forgot that drawing regularly would help me improve, or give me something to focus on when i felt down, or give me the power to create something when i felt like i messed up everything else around me, or just make me happy because i thought of something i wanted to put on paper and then just put it on paper. and thats one of the main reasons i created this tumblr; i want to kind of rekindle that passion i had for art, but this time, without the maladaptive obsessions and without the need for approval from everyone around me. and i know this isn't a unique struggle; i know lots of artists who share their work online get discouraged by how little attention their work gets after they put so much time and effort into it, and like them, i don't have an answer as to how to “fix” this feeling either. but i can at least try. i want to prove to myself that the time i spent feeling hopeful and happy about something i created justifies its entire existence regardless of now many notes it gets, whether its OCs, fan art, digital, traditional, whatever. i just want to learn how to draw because it makes me happy.

that said, finding the motivation can be hard. however, i think I'm sometimes a little too hard on myself. I'm on winter break right now, and ive kind of defaulted to thinking “you haven't drawn enough, you've wasted so much time wishing the motivation fairy would visit you and make you draw that you haven't put in the time and effort needed to make yourself do it, youre pissing away every chance you have.” but when i think about it, i don't think thats true.

ive spent a lot of time thinking about OCs recently, which is kind of wild, because i haven't had the desire to make OCs in probably literally ten freakin years, so thats honestly huge for me--i actually really WANT to make original content despite the fact that i know it won't get as much attention as fan art, and i want to just do it for me, because i want to get it out. ive done a whole character sheet and I'm working on another! and sure, it didn't take me half a day like it maybe used to would've, but what does that matter? i thought, hey, i wanna get this out, and i got it out, and thats good enough for me. ive even written up storyboards in case i wanna ever make some small comics about my OCs just for fun, which is exciting cause ive never done it before. ive also been working on a commission for a close friend who wanted me to design her a fursona, and not only has it been a really fun process, but its the first commission ive done in a really, really long time, and it feels really rewarding. on top of that, I'm working on a painting for my dad as a late christmas present, and its my first really ambitious traditional piece in a while, so thats been pretty exciting too. and sure, ive done some fan art, but it feels like its coming from a better place; its less “please assign me value” and more just, really feeling something for the characters and wanting to try to connect with other people who feel something for those characters as well.

so, while it seems challenging, i also need to remind myself not to be blind to my own progress. i think i am doing better, and feeling better about art even if sometimes it feels like i spend way more time thinking about doing art instead of actually doing it. i think thats probably normal, and i think i can keep heading in the right direction.

ANYWAY this got really long but sometimes typing out how i feel about something and then reading it back helps me understand my own head a little better, so thats ok

#art #theres some scattered tf2 stuff in here but its mostly old tf2 ocs so

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