#academic job alerts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Fluttering of wings, splashing of waves

Oh look, I finished my entry for @thefreakandthehair's spring challenge! My topic was bird watching and Steddie, enjoy!

Also on Ao3

It doesn't take long for both of them to notice.

The thing is - both Eddie and Steve are fairly observant guys, Steve with his constant concern for everyone's well-being but his own and Eddie's survival being dependent on recognizing when quiet contempt and judging is about to transcend into physical violence or lynching, the good ol' American small town tradition that Hawkins always seemed on verge of.

So yes, observing other people isn't exactly new for them, but now that they were discharged from the hospital ("They made me eat vegetables, Wayne!" "They also kept you alive so that's a win in my book, boy!"), they soon notice that while their bodies were patched up and healed as well as possible, the same can't be said for their minds.

They have been spending a lot of time together, with Nancy and Robin now gone for college. Steve sometimes wonders why it is that all of his best friendships, bonds for life, come from the worst thing that has ever happened to him, but maybe he shouldn't complain so much - the universe decided to drag him through blood, pain, tears and lots of concussions, but then remembered maybe he should get something good too, so it tossed Dustin, Robin and Eddie at him, his little brother, his soulmate and...

And Eddie. Someone he used to scoff at, maybe feel some disdain for or even jealousy, but now...

Steve has always been predictable. He throws himself into danger, takes all the responsibility he can because that's what grounds him. It's easy to keep it together when everyone else is freaking out - you simply need to, there's no other choice. Now that Robin and Nancy are gone and the kids are way more preoccupied with high school and their own healing, Steve doesn't have anyone to keep it together for. Anyone but Eddie.

But that's not really all, is it? Because Eddie makes him laugh, makes him feel at ease and Steve kind of hates himself for it, for not being alert enough in his presence because he's supposed to keep Eddie safe, but he just makes him relax so much, he jokes around but doesn't cross his boundaries and Steve just doesn't know anymore-

So yes, they notice things about each other fairly quickly, but talking about it? That's a whole separate can of worms. "And I have a warehouse full of these worm cans, Steve, take your pick."

When they finally bring it up, it's April of 1987, close to the end of academic school year. Eddie has finally graduated and started working odd jobs, not paying well but at least legal, Steve still rewinding tapes in Family Video and going through potential career options, dragging Eddie into the endless pile of leaflets, articles and even some study programs. "We won't be stuck here forever," he tells Eddie and there is a glint in Eddie's eye, something that clutches at Steve's chest and whispers you will get him out of here. You will make him happy, in any way he allows.

Eddie hands Steve a leaflet about part-time sports coach position. "Come on, Harrington, you know you want to," snickers Eddie and leans back in his chair. "And about every woman in Hawkins wants you to as well, those shorts were sinful, I tell you. But seriously...you'd be great at it. You have a way with kids and you were pretty good in high school, no?"

Steve chuckles with him, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. Not when he sees that one of the requirements is leading swimming lessons. "I...I don't think that's a good fit," he admits quietly, almost ashamed. "It's not like you're wrong, those shorts did look good on me," he admits and elicits another snicker from Eddie, "but...I don't think I could do all they want me to do."

Eddie frowns, not at Steve but in contemplation, and takes the leaflet back, his eyes impatiently scanning the text. "...oh," he breathes out and gives Steve an apologetic smile. "The pool thing?"

Steve nods and presses his lips together, hoping the words will stay in, but that's just Eddie's strange spell. Steve wants him to know, wants him to know everything, not just the pretty parts of himself. "The pool thing. It's fucking stupid, you know. I thought that I survived all of it, but...I guess some parts of me died too. Which sounds way too dramatic, but I haven't been able to just...live. It's like my life is a minefield now and I've been trying to avoid where they're buried..."

He glances at Eddie and swallows, his throat tight. "Sorry. That sounds so melodramatic, especially saying it to a guy who actually nearly died. I don't know where that came from, please just...just ignore I said anything. But yeah, I don't think I could do the coach thing."

Eddie is quiet for a moment and Steve thinks that maybe he messed things up. Maybe he showed too much of himself, like he always does, maybe he's finally managed to chase Eddie away but then those long, calloused fingers are on his shoulder, squeezing him, grounding him.

"I won't ignore that, Steve," says Eddie and Steve hates how sad he looks, wonders if it would be awkward to hug him, to offer comfort that he himself doesn't know.

"I won't ignore that because I get it," continues Eddie and Steve doesn't think, he covers Eddie's hand with his own. "Why do you think I mostly do night shifts or work in warehouses, restocking or whatever? Why I stay inside most of the time?"

Shame and insecurity now gone, Steve strokes his fingers along Eddie's knuckles. "I've noticed and...I have my theory. But I didn't want to bring it up. Didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

Tilting his head back, Eddie laughs and Steve's heart beats faster at the sound. "You could never. But maybe it's good to...to say it out loud. I think we're kind of dancing around it, trying to ignore the stuff that we're dealing with, but maybe it would help. Maybe admitting it will help us figure out how to handle it? Because to be completely honest with you, Steve - I hate it. I hate pretending that everything is over when it fucking isn't."

As if Steve could ever say no to those dark, trusting eyes. "Okay, let's try."

At first, the words don't come and when they do, they are aborted and unclear, but gradually, they start flowing and when they do, they don't stop. They spend the whole evening talking about it, finding the right expressions to explain what the Upside Down took from them.

Steve shudders and grows rigid whenever he hears running or splashing water. From the movie nights and unspoken sleepovers they have, Eddie knows Steve only takes showers now, short and almost scorching, and never runs a bath for himself, no matter how stiff and painful his muscles are. The floating sensation of water used to bring him comfort, but now it is replaced by the memory of being grabbed and dragged under the surface, air leaving his lungs, his head ringing with pressure...

Eddie's breathing quickens and panic sets in whenever he hears flapping of wings. He knows that demobats are no longer in Hawkins, he knows that they're gone along with their master, but he can't help it, he never feels safe outside, can't raise his head to the sky to persuade himself that it's okay.

Steve wants to throw up whenever something touches his neck. Eddie can relate.

Eddie feels the need to cover his wrists all the time. After being held down by demobats, he feels like he needs to protect them. Weirdly it's not his maimed chest, not his scarred sides, but the wrists. That explains the thick leather bracelets.

Steve can't stand the feeling of not being fully there, with marihuana and alcohol. "It's the truth serum," he tells Eddie and admits, finally admits how guilty he felt for giving Dustin's full name to the Russians, wonders how much damage he could do if he ever let himself go. The Russians are gone, but the guilt stays.

And Eddie feels uneasy under the open sky. Maybe it's because it was nearly the last thing he would see in his life. Maybe it has something to do with the bird thing. But it is so difficult to just walk on the street, be in the open. Be vulnerable.

"The funny thing is," says Steve and shifts closer to Eddie on the couch, Eddie with his beer and Steve with soda, "when things were still...you know, shit, I didn't feel this way. I was able to go wherever I wanted, do what I wanted, because the danger was actually there, you know? We did what we had to do and I felt like...like I didn't need to think about it, I just did things. But now...I guess I just don't trust it. Things being fine. Hell, I can't even trust myself," he laughs and it's bitter, pained. "The fuck is this? When did I go from actually fighting monsters to shaking like a stupid chihuahua from hearing someone washing their hands?"

Eddie takes a swig of his beer and closes his eyes, nodding. His hair is messier than usual from lying around and nervous tugging of his fingers, but Steve still thinks it looks great. Or maybe not just great, he wouldn't like it on just anyone, but...maybe it's just that it's Eddie. The thought doesn't scare him as much as it used to.

It takes a moment for Eddie to speak, but when he does, he stares at the ceiling, his eyes large and glassy. "Yeah, I get that. I thought I graduated from being a coward, but-"

"Not a coward, man." Steve hates interrupting people, he was lectured on it way too many times, but this is the single time he feels like it's justified. "Don't call yourself a coward. Because you're not."

Eddie shoots him a small smile. "Well, let me rephrase it. I thought I'd stop freezing when I got scared, but look at me now. Wayne noticed it too, you know? He...he actually helped." He shifted even closer, now sitting so close to Steve their legs were touching. "He told me that he went through something similar when he came back from Vietnam. Just...small flashes. Random things reminding him of what he saw there. It fucked him up pretty badly, he said, uh..." Biting his lip, he took a deep breath. "He said that's why he never got married or had kids. That he didn't feel...healthy enough. Whole enough. But then of course I got dropped on his doorstep and he had to deal with the shit."

Steve is staring now, he's distantly aware that it's not very polite, but damn, that sounds like a miracle. Maybe Wayne is a much stronger man then they are, but he just has to ask. "How...how did he do it? I mean...it feels so unreal. That you can just...deal with it."

"He said it wasn't easy," Eddie mutters, fiddling with his rings. "But he...uh. Shit, this is embarrassing but also kinda amazing? He said I was his biggest motivation to get better, so he...he dealt with those things by kind of overwriting the memories with new ones with me? Like...he got really, really freaked out by bushes and dense woods, you know. Found it difficult to go anywhere where he couldn't see everything around him. But he...he started taking me out to the woods. Bit by bit, I mean, it wasn't immediate, but he started teaching me about nature. Showing me some edible things, animals if we got to see them. I didn't know it back then, but he was freaking out all the time. But eventually, he stopped associating the woods with...that. And started thinking about what he'd teach me next, what our next trip would be."

"Wow." Steve has always liked Wayne, but now? He thinks the man is incredible. "Your uncle is amazing," he whispers. "Just...just amazing. He came up with that and it worked? He did that for you? I...wow."

Eddie laughs, nodding and downing the rest of his beer. "Right? And he talks about it like it's no big deal. He just did it. I wish I had the guts too, you know, because I really want to do some of the stuff with him that we used to do. He's not pushing, but...I really want to spend time with him. Do the same thing he did for me." After a brief pause, he continues. "You know, we have this really silly thing that we used to do that I want to experience again. So fucking much. We call it bird watching, but it actually is more of a bird spotting. We'd just sit together on the porch, smoke and try to spot birds. Like, you'd point at a crow or a pigeon or whatever and the other would say "yep, sure is a bird". It sounds silly, but...I just hate that I can't do it anymore, you know."

Steve stares into the distance for a moment, lost in thought. And just as Eddie is about to nudge him, to ask what he's thinking about, he snaps out of it, looking at Eddie. "You can and you will," he proclaims resolutely.

"Um." He's laughing again, but this time it's a bit awkward, uncertain. "Not sure which part of "I panic when I'm under the open sky or when I hear wings" you didn't hear, Steve."

But his friend just shakes his head, gets that determined look that never ends well for their enemies. "I heard all of it. And I thought we'd all be fucked up forever, but your uncle could do it, man. And he did it alone. We're together in this and I don't know about you, but I'm sick of letting that disgusting place control my every move. So let me ask you - do you want to rewrite memories together?"

And see, this was is thing with Steve Harrington. Once he makes up his mind, he will follow through - and even though Eddie is still scared shitless, the idea of Steve facing his fears alone somehow feels even worse. Cracking open another beer, he takes a mighty gulp before nodding, offering his hand to seal the deal. "Name the time and place, big boy."

They aren't stupid about it, not more stupid than usual. Steve insists on making some rules and plans in case things go to shit. And while Eddie isn't exactly a fan of planning things, this actually does sound like a good idea. So they write it all down, figure out time and place, a calm Sunday when they don't have a shift, around 2 PM so there's enough light and warmth for them to attempt to relax - which is pretty fucking impossible because their destination is none other than Lover's Lake. No use wasting water sitting by a running tap or watch bird puppets, as Steve eloquently puts it.

Steve also insists on choosing just one of the fears to tackle for him and Eddie, making a very good point that it's supposed to be baby steps, not giant stomps, whatever that is supposed to mean. It's actually more like two for Eddie because birds and open sky go together like goat cheese and weird taste or something, but it would be really difficult to separate the two.

And finally, after some research, they come up with a back up plan - if either of them gets too much in their head, the other one needs to distract them. "Doesn't matter what it is, apparently," says Eddie while he is munching on another handful of dry cereal, "it just has to be unexpected. Basically to shock the panic out of your brain. Which sounds...very healthy. Yep. So when I'm freaking out about bird stuff, just...tell me you're getting married to Tammy Thompson or something."

Steve snickers and packs some drinks and snacks as well as a blanket, the forever babysitter. "For you, Munson? I'll describe our whole Muppet wedding and ask you to be my best man."

The walk is...fine. Well, that's a lie. The walk is fucking horrendous but the trees help, giving Eddie at least some semblance of a shelter. His heart is beating like crazy, sure, but he's trying to be normal, he really is, because Steve is keeping it together and distracting him as well as he can. After they spook a bunch of birds and their flapping of wings almost has Eddie hyperventilating, Steve grabs his hand, squeezing it and demanding Eddie tells him about his favorite Lord of the Rings character and why it is Aragorn - that elicits a half-snort, half-whimper from Eddie, but it's enough to keep him on track.

They find a suitable spot, not fully in the open, but covered by tall grass and in the shadow of a large tree. The lake is a few steps away and when they sit down on the blanket, they can't really see it, but the sound is there - calming for Eddie but Steve...yeah, he doesn't look so good. That's when Eddie grasps his shoulder and asks him to explain why basketball is so good and how does one even understand what's going on. "Eyes up here, Steve, tell me everything. How many people on each team. Are there different functions, roles or something like that? And why are the shorts so short?"

It goes like that for a while. Whenever one of them gets too stressed, too quiet, the other one shoots a question that makes them think, about something they really, really like. So far, so good.

Except then it happens. As if there was some twisted re-enactment of their Upside Down misfortunes, a bunch of birds loudly take off and circle above the two, flapping their wings and even though they seem to be leaving, Eddie suddenly can't breathe, he's back on the ground, being held by his throat and his wrists, choking on blood-

"Eddie, hey Eddie, stay with me." Steve's voice is panicked too, he's doing what he can but the questions aren't working, Eddie is paralyzed, rigid on the ground.

Licking his dry lips, he wheezes out, "I think it's good time to surprise me, Steve. Like now. Please."

"Okay, yeah, okay."

Eddie prays for a quick shock. Maybe learning about Harrington's porn preferences. About dirty secrets from high school. Maybe some of Robin's romantic misadventures. Something, anything to get him out of his head.

He gets his wish when Steve leans over him and presses his lips against Eddie's.

Eddie's heart skips a beat. Maybe two, three. But he isn't dead, so it has to keep beating, he thinks, but he can't really tell - not when all of the feeling in his body goes to his lips, to the gentle press that Eddie has been craving for months.

It takes him a moment to realize that it's suddenly quiet, the birds are gone and Steve is still above him, looking at Eddie with concern. "Did it work?" he asks and Eddie wants to punch him, murder him, kiss him senseless.

"Sure did," he croaks and tries to play it cool, failing miserably. Maybe if he turns it into a joke, Steve won't notice that he actually enjoyed this, that this isn't just a distraction tactic to him. "Gotta be careful there, Steve," he laughs weakly, "you might give a guy false hope that this is actually something you wanted."

He expects a disgusted scrunch of Steve's nose, a shock maybe, but instead he just leans down and tucks Eddie's hair behind his ear. "False hope?" he whispers and holds his gaze, braver than any and all of them. "For this concrete guy, it's pretty much an open invitation. Although I should have asked, sorry, it's been on my mind since forever and when I saw you like that, I just panicked. So, uh...sorry. If that's not what you want. I mean-"

"Steve," he sighs, exasperated. "I just had a taste of what that mouth can do and I'm pretty sure you're just wasting its potential." His hand sneaks into Steve's hair and pulls him closer, kissing the tip of his nose. "And I can promise you this isn't a trauma response or something. I've been going crazy about you for months now. Just ask Wayne. Or better, don't. He's been making fun of me for it. Mercilessly."

They dissolve into a fit of giggles and maybe a bit of hysteria, too, but the world is quiet now, the sounds of wings and waves distant and the warmth of their bodies is grounding, safe. "He can start a mocking club with Robin, then. She's been calling me her cute bisexual disaster, if you can believe that," says Steve.

"Oh, I absolutely can." The grin is almost painful, but he can't help it, wonders if he'll associate flapping of wings with Steve's lips now, instead of all the pain and horror. Maybe not immediately but there's no need for giant stomps. "Well, big boy...what do you say we give them something to mock us for?"

Steve leans down and smiles against his lips, his breath tickling Eddie's face. "I thought you'd never ask."

It's several days later that Eddie catches in uncle home, smoking in his chair and staring at the darkening trees. He quietly takes a stool outside and plops next to him, stealing a lighter to light his cigarette.

He tries to act casual, but the disbelieving smile and pride in Wayne's eyes makes him blush, his face being the biggest traitor of all.

He motions towards the trees where something moved, the sound of its wings muffled and distant. "Looks like a bird, right?" he says.

Wayne reaches over and ruffles his hair, takes another drag from his own cigarette. "Sure does."

#LexsSpringFanworksChallenge #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fanfiction

368 notes · View notes

harleykeeners · 7 months

Text

Be My Life Line (Please)-Parkner

Peter Parker/Harley Keener

Prompt: Peter Parker is overwhelmed. His Dads happen to be called out on a mission the same week his life decided to fall apart. With 4 tests, massive presentations, and no parents, Peter starts popping pills to cope with the pressure of everything crumbling around him. Harley finds him and accidentally makes it worse.

Word Count: 9282

“Hey, kid. Just checking in, we just landed. Everything good?” Tony asked.

Peter put the phone down as he sighed, “Yeah, everything’s great.” Lying through his teeth, Peter started to make his way to the medicine cabinet.

“That’s good to hear. Hey, we should be back in 3 days tops. Just gotta wrap something up here with Nat quickly, something about some rogue spies, I don’t even know at this point.”

“Sounds like fun. Well, I gotta go, got things to do. Be safe, love you.” Peter hung up and just… stared into the mirror. He closed the medicine cabinet and walked away. Tony and Stephen were suddenly pulled away for a mission Peter (and apparently Tony) knew next to nothing about. Which was normal.

Except it had to be this week.

It had to be the week Peter had his Calc and Physics midterm.

It had to be the week Peter had an English and History test.

It had to be the week Peter promised to help MJ with Academic Decathlon practice.

It had to be the week Peter was set to present his work to the other head scientists at Stark Industries.

All in all, he had too much this week. Too much, all at once.

Normally, whenever Tony and Stephen were out, Peter would ask Pepper for help. Well, with Pepper being promoted to CEO, that was next to impossible. After Pepper, Peter would go to Happy. However, it appeared the universe was dead set on making Peter’s week terrible. Happy was preoccupied with training new bodyguards and media specialists (which wasn’t his job?).

So, Peter was alone. Alone with a crammed schedule.

He took solace in his bedroom, the lights low with just a lamp over his desk. He figured the best course of action was tackling everything one thing at a time. Or else he feared he would drown.

Peter found it kind of funny, how all of his teachers decided to assign work the same week his internship project was due for a presentation. He figured he’d start with his Physics review. The packet had 60 questions, and he hadn’t started yet. His midterm was 40% of his final grade. He couldn’t afford to fail- which he doesn’t think he will- but better safe than sorry.

As he stares at the packet, Peter wonders why he cares so much. Maybe it's because everyone tells him how “lucky” he is. How he has to make his Dads proud. How he has to live up to his Dads expectations. How he has to prove he’s “worthy” of the life he has.

He knows it’s irrational.

But, it's still enough to motivate him to study himself into an early grave.

He stares at the paper… and completely blanks out.

Friday alerts Peter that it is time for dinner. Normally Tony would make dinner, (or at least leave Peter some leftovers), however, he left in such a rush that Peter had to make his own dinner. The only issue with that is, Peter easily loses track of time. Peter would find himself burning several meals and leaving the oven on multiple times.

It’s not that Peter is a bed cook, just not a safe one.

Tony had banned Peter from the kitchen multiple times.

Worse comes to worst, Peter will cook. However, he’d rather not. Whenever Tony and Stephen would usually leave, Pepper or even Harley would come over and cook. They’d make a day of it.

As Peter stares into the fridge, he really starts to contemplate calling or texting Harley. However, he imagines it’d go something like this:

“Harls, how do I make pasta?”

“Peter, you can not be serious…”

Once Peter sees that there isn’t food, he goes back to his room. He doesn’t want to waste more precious study time. Besides, he wasn’t that hungry. Dinner could be a bit later.

Peter went back to his packet and about his day.

Before he knew it, Friday alerted him it was midnight.

“Great..” Peter muttered. He hadn’t eaten and still didn’t understand certain problems in his review packet.

Peter gave up and started getting ready for bed. He wasn’t that hungry anyway. He set his alarm and then remembered, Tony wasn’t here to drive him. He’d have to take the bus.

Peter set his alarm for 5 A.M.

After a quick shower, he settled into bed and checked his phone. No notifications. It seemed his Dads were busy.

“Goodnight,” Peter says to himself. He could feel it, this was going to be a hard week.

Initially, Peter thought he’d be fine. His Dads joke about how it would be a trial run for college. Peter would be responsible for getting to school, work, and all the house chores. “I’ll be fine,” Peter said. “Go! Go save the world!” Peter ushers his Dads out the door after a quick goodbye.

He wishes he went with them.

The alarm hurls him awake. Peter fights every force known to man, plus some, to get out of bed. His phone's brightness slightly blinds him, and he sees the time says 5:10 A.M. and a text from his Dad.

Dad: Have a good day! Just killed a weird alien, will bring goop as souvenir!

9:45 P.M.

Peter hurls himself out of bed and makes his way into the bathroom.

“What the fuck!” Peter shouts as he hops into the freezing shower. He laughs to himself, “Oh, the universe is out to get me.”

Pro: Peter was no longer sleepy.

Con: Peter was freezing in the middle of January, in New York.

He rushes to pack his bag, making sure to shove his review packet in there. Peter hoped to do a few extra questions on the bus. Racing downstairs, Peter quickly grabs a banana for breakfast and races out the door.

“Next bus in 30 minutes,” reads on the bus app. Great, that only means Peter just missed the bus.

He sat at the bus stop, regretting not dressing warmer, and started working on his review packet. The smell of weed hit him as a few people started to gather at the bus stop. It frustrated him that he had to smell weed this early in the morning. That was the main reason he asked Tony to drive him to school.

He wasn’t a fan of starting his day with the horrid stench of weed at 5:30 A.M.

By the time the bus came, Peter had to fight his way on. He ended up standing in the alley, holding on to the overhead rails for support. Any plans to keep studying went out the window.

The morning bus was always oddly crowded. People getting on would shove and jostle Peter, and he simply got used to it.

As luck would have it, Peter forgot to grab his headphones. The nice thing about the morning bus was that no one tried to talk to him. He quietly watched the street view and the soft fall of snow outside.

He found comfort in the route. It was the same route every day. It was a constant.

When he finally got off at Midtown, the time was 6:45 A.M. Peter had 15 minutes before class in which he can continue his studies. He found a small corner by the school and settled down.

“Yo, you got those practice questions I asked for?” MJ asks. She seemed to appear out of thin air and scared the shit out of Peter.

“Oh, no. Sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” He answered as MJ opted to sit next to him. Peter forgot that MJ was in the hospital with her mother and needed help with Academic Decathlon practice questions.

“Ah, don’t sweat it. I just need them before Thursday.” She looks over his shoulder at the packet. “Last minute cramming?”

Peter nods and sighs at the same time. “Yeah. I think I’ll be fine but can never be too sure.”

MJ laughs and quips back “Yeah, don’t be like Flash. He’s going on and on about how he knows he’ll ace it but” MJ leans closer to Peter, “If you look at him closely, you can see the panic in his eyes.”

They shared a laugh before MJ got up to roam around school a bit before class. Peter was feeling a bit more confident, however, his test anxiety was acting up. Bad enough that he has to take this test at the end of the day. Now he’ll just be anxious all day.

Throughout the day, Peter’s head started to hurt. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, mixed with his empty stomach, and his anxiety that started making his head spin.

It was fine, he just needed to get through this midterm. That he forgot about until yesterday. That was worth 40% of his grade. That could tank his 96% “A”. That Flash 100% bombed if his face at lunch was anything to tell by.

If Peter played his cards right, he just needed 81% to end up with 90%. He needs to end the semester with an “A”. He can only afford to get 12 questions wrong. He should have studied earlier. His head is spinning. His palms are sweating. When did it get so hot?

Peter flips over his test and quickly skims the questions. He doesn’t remember what happens next.

He walked out of the classroom, feeling relief that it was finally over. Until he remembers he has to go on patrol.

Peter really didn’t want to go on patrol as he had his Chemistry midterm on Thursday. But, Spider-Man can’t just disappear for a week. So, despite his better judgment, he calls Ned to take his bag.

Normally, Peter loves patrol. He loves swinging from building to building and helping those in need. Peter finds that being Spider-Man is one of the few moments he can truly be himself. No pressure from school, friends, or his Dads. Spider-Man is his window to freedom.

And right now, Peter wants to slam the window shut. Right now, Peter needs to be studying. However, just as he thinks that Peter sees a cat in a tree.

“Hey! Someone a little stuck?” Peter asks the cat, not really expecting a response. (However, he doesn’t ignore the possibility of a talking cat.) Luckily, the cat doesn’t try to scratch him. Peter easily scoops up the cat and returns it to the ground.

“I feel like I should find your owner…” The cat ends up running away behind some home, allowing Peter to conclude that it was an outside cat that simply got stuck.

He wishes his patrol ended there. Over the next 3 hours, the universe decided to line up every petty crime back-to-back. First, Mr. Delmar found himself behind gunpoint. Then, some teenagers decided to rob a gas station. Followed by three guys causing a commotion on the subway. And the cherry on top of this picture-perfect night was a woman getting mugged right as Peter was going to go home.

Peter knows he’s there to help. But sometimes, sometimes he wishes he could be selfish and take the day for himself.

He swings by Ned’s window to collect his bag and makes his way home.

“Welcome home, Peter. It is currently 9:37 P.M.” Friday announces. Peter simply groans and makes his way to the shower. One thing he feels he must do is shower after patrol. Even though he should go to bed, Peter needs to study.

The relief Peter feels as the hot water hits his shoulders is unparalleled. It's the first moment of relaxation all day.

As Peter gets dressed, he notices the clock strikes 10 P.M. That gives him roughly an hour to study. He silences his phone to avoid all distractions and hits the books.

Dad: Everything okay? Haven’t heard from you yet

10:12 P.M.

Pops: Hope you’re doing well, Peter.

10:19 P.M.

Dad: Sleep well, kid. Love ya

10:35 P.M.

He doesn’t notice the missed texts. Peter wakes up on his desk.

His phone is screaming at him from across the room. His head hurts and the lights he left on blind him.

“Shit,” He thinks. Peter pulls himself from the desk, his back in agony and his head pounding. “Friday, what time is it?”

“It is 6 A.M, Peter.”

“Oh, shit.” Peter thinks. “I’m going to miss the bus.” Immediately, Peter throws on the first thing he sees and races out the door. No time for breakfast. Now that he thinks about it, he missed dinner yesterday.

As he rushes to the bus stop, Peter realizes the bus is approaching. Luckily, there's a line of people to get on so Peter makes it on in time. Way too close for comfort.

By now, his head is pounding. He keeps forgetting to eat and he’s not getting enough sleep. He’s still sore from patrol and he’s anxious about his tests. And now, he’s out of breath from chasing the bus.

It’s not like today is going to get any better. Peter knows he still has to do the Academic Decathlon questions MJ asked for. Plus, he needs to finish patrol quickly to review some formulas that were wrong on his internship project.

Once again, MJ finds him sitting in the same corner, now reviewing Chemistry. Peter sees her from the corner of his eye and prepares to let her down again.

“Before you ask, no, I still don’t have the AcaDeca questions. I’m sorry, I’ll try my hardest to get them done by tomorrow.” Peter doesn't promise and he isn’t even sure what he just said is true.

He doesn’t really know why he can’t just tell MJ he doesn’t have the time to do them.

Well, Peter knows why.

He doesn’t want to let her down. He doesn’t want to admit he can’t do something. He doesn’t want to admit he bit off more than he can chew. Peter wants to be someone people can rely on. But right now, he can’t even rely on himself.

“No sweat, just let me know if it’s too much. I can always ask Ned to do them instead.” MJ calmly answers back.

Peter should tell her that would be better, but something stops him.

“Hey, MJ.” Peter finds himself saying. "Do you have any Advil on you?”

“Yeah, why? Headache?”

Peter nods his head as MJ hands him the small pill. “Slept horribly.” He doesn’t even bother getting water and dry swallows the pill. MJ shoots him a look of sympathy and understanding.

“Happens to the best of us,” she says. With that, MJ bids Peter farewell and he resumes his studies.

When 3rd period rolls around, Peter is hit with the fact that he indeed has a history test today. He’s not panicking, just annoyed he forgot. It seemed like things were slipping from his memory recently.

The class is silent as they take their test and Peter starts to feel dizzy again. He didn’t eat during lunch and instead kept studying. He drinks some water, which does help him a little, but right now Peter just wants to put his head down.

He finishes his test and makes a dash for the bathroom. He just needs a minute to breathe. “Okay, just calm down. Just relax and focus,” Peter thinks as he splashes water onto his face. He begins to form a list and organize himself:

Patrol.

Internship formula.

Chemistry Midterm.

English test.

Academic Decathlon Questions.

And dinner.

He keeps forgetting that one.

Peter just needs to better manage his time. Other than that, he sees no reason to be overwhelmed. He’s just all over the place. However, his head wasn’t feeling much better.

The nurse can’t give him any medication so Peter will have to wait till he gets home.

The bell finally rings and Peter makes a dash for an empty alleyway. He doesn’t bother giving Ned his bag as he simply webs it to the wall. Peter jumps into his suit and begins his quick patrol. No more than an hour, the city gets Spider-Man for one hour and that’s it. Today, Peter Parker is needed more than Spider-Man.

Rushing to wrap the patrol up, Peter ends up slamming into a pole.

“Fuck!” He shouts and concludes patrol then and there. His arms are throbbing but that doesn’t matter, Peter still needs to get home and review his project.

The tower is freezing, and Peter makes a run to the bathroom. With no time to revel in the soothing hot water, he quickly cleans up the sweat and blood and changes into his comfort clothes. The other interns will simply deal with Peter in Harley’s hoodie and sweatpants.

Before going down to the lab, Peter goes to the medicine cabinet. His head is killing him and the pain in his arms isn’t going away. He looks at the bottle of Advil and opens it. He takes two for his headache and two more for his arms.

As he swallows the pills, Peter realizes that he hasn’t eaten yet. However, he then remembers Friday exists. “Friday, could you order a pizza and deliver it to the lab for me?”

“Of course, Peter.” Friday happily responds.

With that settled, Peter heads to the lab.

Peter is face to face with the whiteboard and one problem on it. He’s been going over it for hours. He keeps ending up with a remainder, however, it ruins the machine's code. All the other interns have taken a stab at it and none have been successful.

“This is going to be the death of me.” One of them says, which by the size of their eye bags, seems to be right.

“I swear I’m going insane. How do we keep getting a remainder? We’ve used every rational method…” Another intern says.

“We have to be missing something super obvious. Maybe, we need a new set of eyes?” Peter says and then realizes his error. They have all been staring at the same problem for the better course of an hour now, and probably all have tunnel vision.

The only issue is, they've run the problem by every intern.

“Are you going to call your Dads? I bet they could figure this out.”

And that comment struck a nerve in Peter. Mainly because he knows he can solve this. He’s solved this type of problem thousands of times before. But for some reason, he’s stuck.

They have to figure this out, as they are set to present this robot to the pantheon of scientists at Stark Industries on Thursday.

“Wait…” one of the interns speaks up, “Isn’t Harley in today?”

Peter silently cries tears of joy.

The universe is throwing him a bone.

Harley is an intern in every way but legally. Peter rushes to call the front desk and hunts Harley down. “Send Keener to lab 37, immediately. Tell him it’s life or death.”

They all let out a sigh of relief, finally having a small break from the same numbers on the whiteboard. It’s 8:45 P.M. and Harley is met with five interns surrounded by several cups of coffee and energy drinks.

“What’s going on?” Harley asks in a slight panic.

Peter doesn’t answer. He simply hands him a dry-erase marker and places him in front of the whiteboard. Harley doesn’t need direction, as Peter can see his mind running as he stares at the problem. They all leave him be.

Peter takes the time to pick up his pizza and eat a bit. He forgot how good New York pizza is. With some food in his stomach, Peter quietly sneaks off to take another pill. His arms are still throbbing and his head is killing him. At least now he has some food in his system.

He comes back to see Harley on a completely new board, the previous one filled with equations.

“Still can’t crack it?” he asks.

“Darling, I think you finally got me. What the hell is this?”

“I have no idea. We’ve been stuck on this for weeks and keep getting a remainder, which then causes a system error in the bot. Thought you’d be able to figure it out.” Peter answers.

“Do you guys still have your previous proofs?”

“Yeah, right over there.” Peter points to a stack of paper on a nearby desk. Harley nods and ruffles through the stack, his eyes quickly skimming the numbers.

Peter goes off to grab some water. He gets the compulsion to check his phone and notices he has a few texts from Tony and Stephen.

Dad: Just checking in, all good?

6:11 P.M.

Dad: Would you like an alien finger as a souvenir?

8:24 P.M

Peter laughs at the messages and sends back a quick selfie to make sure Tony knows he is indeed alive (despite what his body is telling him). To his surprise, Tony replies right away and they spend a few seconds discussing TSA guidelines for transporting severed alien fingers.

Harley then speaks up and asks, “Peter, what’s the square root of -1?”

“It’s i.” He quickly responds. The square root of -1 does not exist, so its i, which stands for an imaginary number.

“Right, and who wrote this?” Harley calls him over to review some work. He points to some long equation where there’s a smudged number.

“Does that say 1 or i?” He asks.

Peter sees red. They have all spent weeks looking over this problem, going slightly insane, all because of some poor penmanship.

“That’s supposed to be an i..”

“Yeah, but then they added it to the equation as if it were a one- which throws everything off-”

“By one,” Peter concludes. “That’s why we keep having a remainder.”

In a moment of pure blinding rage, Peter throws all the work onto the floor. His entire team had spent weeks refining their robot, all because someone misread a number. Peter was fuming.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Peter shouts.

This grabs everyone's attention. They all gather around Harley, who's picking up the paper on the floor. “Hey, at least we caught it now and not in front of the professionals.” Harley tries to reassure Peter.

The group nods, but Peter doesn’t care.

He’s beyond exhausted and at the end of his patience.

He quickly checks his phone and sees that it’s 10:22 P.M. He’s even more frustrated as he still needs to shower and do homework. However, before he storms off he speaks up, “Next time we do something like this, we are all making our numbers and variables extremely legible.” He doesn’t wait to see the looks on everyone’s faces and storms off to his room.

The entire fiasco was making his head hurt even more, so Peter pops another pill before bed. At least he ate today. Peter will take the small victory.

He lost track of how many pills he took today.

Before going to bed, Peter realizes that he doesn’t care about bothering Happy. He calls Happy and -borderline begs- him to take him to school. Happy agrees and Peter is over the moon he can sleep in a bit more.

The extra hours of sleep do wonders for Peter. He’s able to take a shower without rushing and is even able to eat a light breakfast. Peter allows himself to stop and breathe. He feels like he hasn’t had the chance to.

“Kid, are you ready to go?” Happy calls out as Peter quickly packs his bag. He nods and they both make their way to the cars. Peter hops in the back and, to his surprise, ends up falling asleep.

(It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He looks like shit.)

It was a much needed power nap, and Peter felt slightly better. He says goodbye to Happy and makes his way to his corner. He sees Ned sitting there, eagerly waiting for him.

“Woah, dude are you okay?” Ned asks with concern. Peter simply waves him off and says he’s fine. Ned doesn’t question it and simply changes the subject to the Academic Decathlon training they have in two days. With that, Peter remembers that he needs to finish those questions. He makes a mental note to finally start them.

Peter knows he has his English test today, and he honestly can’t be bothered to review. He knows he’ll be fine.

Instead, he begins the Academic Decathlon questions he promised MJ he’d have ready for tomorrow. Now, the challenge with that is that he needs to come up with questions that are challenging- but not impossible. Which is extremely difficult.

He promised MJ 30 questions: Ten math questions, ten science questions, and ten history/geography questions. In the first two sections, Peter had it in the bag. He pulled several problems from projects he’d seen in the labs and even a few Tony used on his suits.

The history/geography ones stumped him. This was MJ’s field of expertise, not Peter’s.

However, Peter’s too stubborn to ask for help. It doubles as reviewing, in a weird way. Peter pulls several articles from various historical moments and begins crafting some questions. He convinces himself that he’s reviewing his reading compression skills.

By the time his English test rolls around, Peter has managed to complete 26 questions. He’s running on pure adrenaline and 2 more Advills, but he’s getting it done. Like clockwork, Peter blanks out during his test. He’s sure he did fine, English wasn’t ever challenging to him.

However, he can’t afford to worry about that. In the grand scheme of things, that test was less than 1% of his stress. He almost forgot about his Chemistry midterm tomorrow. Plus, he had his presentation and AcaDeca training the following day.

Peter sometimes wishes he knew how to say no.

Patrol was starting to feel more like a job. Peter dreaded it and that frustrated him because Peter loved helping people. He loved seeing people smile and making their day. Being Spider-Man is one of the things Peter’s the proudest of. However, he can’t help others if he can’t even help himself. That’s evident by the empty pill bottle in his bag.

Once again, Peter is convinced the universe is out to get him. Everything that could go wrong, goes wrong. Mr. Delmar gets held at gunpoint, the bank has two attempted robberies, Peter counts seven muggings, and finally, some punks thought it would be funny to rob the pawn shop run by the old lady. Honestly, he couldn’t catch a break.

And it was one after another. Spider-Man didn’t stop and was constantly moving between crimes. He was getting overwhelmed and his movements were getting sloppy. The worst part was that Peter wasn’t pulling back his punches. There was so much going on at once that controlling his strength was the last thing on his mind.

That’s when he finally accepted he had a problem.

He saw the blood on his hands and the horrified looks of the criminals he was hurting. Thankfully, most civilians had fled the area so they didn’t witness the grotesque image of Peter decking them with ease. So Peter had to call the cops and the ambulance to patch up the bodies he left behind.

He was getting irritable and irrational. He has to cut the patrol short. Spider-Man is becoming more of a danger rather than an aid.

His knuckles are busted open and he has bruises all over his chest. When he gets home, Peter downs another 6 pills to try and numb the pain. He hasn't eaten and he hasn’t showered but that isn’t his concern. He sloppy puts on some bandages over his wounds and immediately hits the books.

By now it's 8:48 P.M. and Peter is about to pass out. He’s staring at his desk with his chem packet and AcaDeca questions all spread out. He’s almost done but he's beginning to see spots. His head is pounding and no matter how many pills he takes, the pain isn't going away. It hurts to move and he’s hungry and he knows he stinks.

Finally, it seems the universe has him beat and Peter snaps.

Peter- against his will- breaks down. He’s crying his eyes out and his head is killing him. Peter can feel a migraine coming on and he doesn’t think he’ll survive. He begins hyperventilating and he runs for more pills. Whether or not they work doesn’t matter, Peter’s convinced himself it's better than nothing.

By this point, Peter’s blocked out all his surroundings. Therefore, he doesn’t notice when Harley walks onto the floor and calls for him.

“Hey, Peter! So, for our presentation, I was thinking we should maybe revisit the previous reversion with-” Harley stops dead in his tracks when he finds Peter.

Peter knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew this wasn’t healthy. He knew he was destroying his body. But Peter was ashamed.

He was too prideful to ask for help.

Harley simply looks at him, and Peter knows what it looks like. His hair is a mess, his hands are bloody, his face is bruised, his eye bags are heavy, and the empty pill bottle on the floor seals the deal.

“Peter, what did you do?” Harley asks with worry and anger in his voice.

“I’m fine. Harls. I’m just stressed.” Peter waves off. The last thing he wants is for Harley to lecture him. “I’m okay, you can go. I have homework I need to finish.”

“No! I’m not gonna sit around and watch you do this to yourself!” Harley yells. He starts to pace the living room back and forth, shaking his head and looking in shock.

“You preach on and on about how drugs are the downfall of our generation and now- what? You’re popping pills? Peter, what the hell?”

Peter feels awful. He feels like shit. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

Peter knows what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he's in the wrong. But… he just wants to help people. He just wants to meet their expectations. And now… he feels like a failure, and Harley is only rubbing salt in the wound.

“Harley, please…” Peter breaks down and Harley snaps out of his angry trance.

“Please, just hold me.” Peter wails as he falls onto the floor. He holds himself tight as he tries to process the millions of thoughts swimming in his head. Harley suddenly drops to the floor and begins to comfort Peter.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I’m so stressed. And it started small.” Peter starts. He isn’t sure if he hears Harley ask questions, but now he can’t stop talking.

“I was just having such bad headaches and taking them made it better. But then I started taking them whenever I got stressed and- I was so stressed this week. Patrol was so hard and they helped with the pain, and I lost track of how many I’ve had. I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but I already feel like shit, Harls. I don’t need you reminding me of the failure I am. I already know that! I let you down, I let my Dads down, I let myself down. I let everyone down!”

“I just want my Dads.” Peter sobs into Harley’s arms. “I’m so tired…” Tears are filling his eyes and it's getting harder to breathe. His chest feels tight and he’s in so much mental anguish and physical pain that he isn’t even really present at the moment.

Harley rocks Peter back and forth. He runs his fingers through Peter’s hair and kisses his forehead. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I snapped. I just… I care about you so much I got worried.”

“Where are my Dads?”

“I’ll call them right now.” Harley then forces Peter to look at him.”Tell me what you need. Tell me how I can help you.” Peter can’t verbally answer but he simply signals towards his chest. Harley removes his suit and notices the black and blue bruises with dried blood. Harley also notices Peter's greasy hair.

“Let me make you a meal and run you a bath,” Harley whispers into Peter’s hair and hugs him tighter.

While Harley goes to the bathroom, Peter passes out on the floor, finally allowing himself some peace. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. He wakes up to the smell of chicken soup and Harley gently shaking him.

“Hey, the bath’s ready. I called your Dads and they’ll be here in the morning. Also, I talked to Ned. You’re not going tomorrow.” Harley says as he lifts Peter onto his feet and helps him remove his suit.

“Harls, I have to go tomorrow. I have my midterm and I need to give MJ the questions I promised her.” Peter answers.

Harley simply shakes his head. “I say you take it next week, however, if it bothers you that much, after tomorrow you can go. I’m sure Tony can sort that out with your teacher. But you need to take at least a day off. And if the presentation stresses you out that much, I can cover for you.”

Peter should feel relieved but he doesn’t want to give up just yet. He’s done so much to make it through this week, he just wants to see it to the end. “Can we talk about this later?” Peter asks.

He’s down to his boxers and Harley has a full view of the bruises littered all over Peter’s body. Peter can see Harley is fighting the urge to say no, but instead, he simply nods his head and kisses his cheek. “Sure, just go get cleaned up.”

Peter agrees and makes his way to the bathtub. Nice that Harley probably figured Peter can’t stand long enough for a shower.

The water is warm and sends immediate relief throughout his whole body. Peter sinks into the tub and lets the water engulf him. He looks at his body and notices just how severe his injuries are. He should probably have Stephen check those out when he gets back.

After an incredible half hour in the tub, Peter finally gets out. He didn’t realize how much he truly needed that.

He changes into some light PJs and finds Harley by the kitchen island with a bowl of chicken soup.

Peter can't remember the last time he had an actual meal. Harley sat next to him as Peter slowly drank the soup. “So, what about tomorrow?” Harley asks.

Peter checks his phone and realizes it's 10:41 P.M. He had two options: he could either take tomorrow off, or he could suck it up.

“Would you mind helping me study?” He asks. Before Harley protests, Peter cuts him off. “I have my midterm first thing in the morning, after that I’ll have Happy take me home. That lets me give MJ the questions I owe her.” Peter didn’t go through the worst week of his life only to not see it till the end. He was stubborn like that.

Harley didn’t seem to like the idea, but he agreed nonetheless. When Peter finished his soup, they both headed to his room and Harley quizzed him on a few problems. Peter was feeling okay, his anxiety was just through the roof.

They both called it quits at around midnight. Harley crashed on the couch and Peter was out like a light.

He only had two days left. He was so close.

When the morning rolls around, Peter wishes he chose to stay home. He is groggy and tired, but still feeling the best he’s felt all week. He assumes Harley was already up and making him breakfast while he went to shower.

They had both agreed that Peter would skip patrol. He was in no condition to help anyone and would probably just hurt himself again, which isn't helpful to anyone.

To his surprise, however, his Dads were home. He walked into the living room to see Stephen making breakfast (no sign of Harley).

“Good morning,” Peter says as he goes to hug his Dad.

“Hey, Harley told us what happened. Just text us when your exam is over and we’ll come to get you. I also need to check your injuries, Peter.” Stephen said as he lightly tossed Peter’s hair and serves him a small stack of pancakes.

Peter silently hopes Harley didn’t mention the pills.

By the time Peter finished his breakfast, he wanted to vomit. He hadn’t stomached that much food all week and his body was trying to reject it. He holds it down as Tony pulls up to Peter’s school. “Text me the second you’re done. Promise?”

Peter sees the worry in Tony’s eyes and simply nods. He already feels guilty. He doesn’t need the reminder. (Looks like Tony understood that.)

As Peter gets to school, he immediately tracks down MJ. He hands her the questions, doesn’t wait for a thank you, and runs to the bathroom.

He can just feel vomit rising up his throat. His eyes are losing focus and he’s currently heaving over the toilet. “Maybe I should have stayed home,” Peter thinks as he stares into the mirror over the sink. His dark circles are getting worst and his skin is breaking out. He splashes some water on his face and quietly reminds himself that he’s almost done. “Just two more days.”

The bell rings and Peter heads off to his classroom. He’s taking his midterm first thing in the morning and right now, he’s fighting to stay upright.

Almost routine, Peter receives his test and flips it over. He knows he knows the material, he just has test anxiety. The studying he did with Harley definitely helps, so he’s confident he’ll do fine.

He ends up blanking out. He doesn’t remember much of the exam, nor many of the questions. However, he feels lighter, like a weight has been taken off his shoulder.

Peter ends up vomiting in the bathroom.

He’s heaving over the toilet and clinging on for dear life. His throat burns and the aftertaste of his breakfast is in his mouth, with a mixture of acid. He’s drenched in sweat and can’t see straight and he feels a migraine coming on.

Quickly, he texts Tony that he can pick him up. Peter gets off the floor and washes his face in the sink. His face is sickly pale and the lights are blinding him. Out of habit, Peter reaches for his pockets to get a pill, only to realize that he doesn’t have any.

That movement alone scares him.

He’s worried he’s feeling dependent.

When he leaves the bathroom, he quickly tracks down MJ in the library. “MJ, here are the questions I promised you. I’m so sorry they’re so late.” He profusely, but rapidly apologizes to her as he hands her the packet.

She doesn’t even look at them, instead places her hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eyes. “Pete, are you okay?” Just being forced to look at her is giving him a headache. The library lights are a blinding yellow and he can hear noise from the hallway.

“Yeah, just a little headache,” Peter says, but MJ still looks at him with worry. “MJ, I’m fine.” Peter doesn’t even believe in himself. He has that gazed look people have after they vomit their guts out and a small twitch in his eyes due to the lighting.

It seems like she doesn’t believe him either. Before she speaks, before she pities him, Peter runs to the office, knowing Tony will arrive any second.

As he waits in the office, he decides it's better to wait in the bathroom. The office had too many people talking, stapling, and filing. The office had too much noise.

That was the main thing he hated about his powers, his senses were heightened, making his migraines a hundred times worse. He’s on the brink of tears when the receptionist yells out his name to alert him that he’s leaving.

It seems that Tony notices so he doesn’t speak, simply thanks the staff, and ushers him into the car. Tony shuts off the radio and hands Peter a jacket in the backseat. Immediately, Peter covers his eyes and attempts to drift off to sleep. He’s just realizing how tired he is, mentally that is.

The ride home is a much needed break. He only has to get through tomorrow’s AcaDeca practice. (He’s not expecting to stay conscious during class).

When they do eventually arrive at the Tower, Peter can’t stand. His body has completely given out on him. Tony ends up carrying the boy inside and up the elevator to the medical compound.

“Okay, kid, you’re scaring the hell out of me. What happened?” Peter wakes up on one of the medical beds and is met with the horrible blinding lights in his face.

He’s too overwhelmed to talk and simply points to them, silently begging Tony to turn them off. He does, thankfully.

“I took on too much,” Peter says. “Everything just pilled up on the same week, and you guys weren’t there, and I don’t know how to say no..” The tears finally begin to spill as Peter talks. His head is killing him and his body is sworn and the voice in his head is nagging him even more. The look on Tony’s face says it all. Peter let him down, Peter disappointed him, and Peter worried him. “I’m sorry, I thought I could handle it.”

Tony doesn’t answer and simply steps aside as Stephen appears to tend to Peter’s medical needs. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands off to the side and looks at the ground. Peter can’t read his face, he can’t tell what's going on in his head. Is he angry? Upset? Not knowing is somewhat worse.

When Stephen finishes, he tells Peter that he’s simply dehydrated and only has a few bruises, nothing extreme. Seems like most of his injuries were healed due to his enhanced abilities.

No one says anything. They all look at each other and quietly leave for their own spaces. Peter can’t muster the courage to tell them what happened. Right now, he just wants the ground to swallow him whole. Peter makes it to his room, takes a much needed shower, and tries to sleep. He’s awakened, however, by Tony at his door with a plate of food.

“Oh, thanks but I’m not really-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Tony coldly states and Peter shuts up. He hands Peter the plate and Peter realizes he isn’t leaving until Tony sees him clean the plate.

Reluctantly, Peter ate. His body needed to get used to consuming food on a regular schedule, not just every other day. When Peter finishes, he hands Tony the plate and apologies once again.

Tony doesn’t say anything, instead reaches over and kisses his forehead.

The next morning is a little better. Peter feels well-rested and his stomach isn’t doing flips. (He’s happy he kept his food down this time.)

He knows today his only task is to make it through the AcaDeca training (which would be easy, as he made the questions), and make it through his internship presentation. That alone takes the pressure off him, with a bonus that it’s Friday. Peter desperately needed the weekend.

He doesn’t even bother changing out of his pajama pants. He just throws on a hoodie and walks out the door. When he gets to school, it seems like MJ and Ned plotted to corner him. They both catch him in his usual corner and block any exits. “Pete, you gotta talk to us. Are you okay?” Ned starts out sweetly.

“Yeah, you look like a bus hit you on the way here,” said MJ. He laughs at her bluntness but assures them that everything is okay. (It’s not, but he thinks he’s getting better)

Today is just about staying awake- if he can even manage that. His migraine is still lingering and the school bells still hurt, but he thinks he’ll be okay.

Peter is proven wrong the minute he sits at his desk. Once he’s in his chair, his head is on the desk and he’s out cold. His body is catching up on the sleep he’s missed all week. No one bothers to wake him up, and if they did, Peter didn’t notice. Today marks the first day Peter slept in every class. Usually, he’d chug coffee to keep himself awake, but today he just couldn’t find the strength.

Every time the bells ring to switch classes, he’s violently jolted awake. Some teachers tried to check up on him, however, Peter still refuses any help and claims he’s okay.

When the final bell rings, Peter is beyond overjoyed. (No more loud bells in his ears.) He quickly makes his way to the auditorium for the AcaDeca training and throws himself into a chair.

Slowly, the rest of the team makes their way inside and immediately, “Parker, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Flash speaks up. And Peter can’t even be mad, he knows he looks awful. Flash saw him completely passed out in chemistry and history. Thankfully, MJ shuts him down and begins the training.

As MJ begins reading out questions to the team, Peter gets a text on his phone.

Harls: Hey, hope you’re feeling a bit better. The presentation got moved to 7 tonight, btw. Xx

3:56 P.M.

With a sigh of relief, Peter relaxes a bit and is able to focus on the training. While most of it was pretty easy, given that he made the questions, MJ threw in some surprise ones as well. The team discussed strategies and tactics, but Peter didn’t really listen. He patiently waited for the MJ to call the meeting to an end before he bolted out the door.

Tony was already outside the school. He’s patiently waiting in what appears to be Happy’s car. Peter hops in and just slumps into the seat. “Remind me to never take on any more responsibilities,” he says as he throws his bag into the backseat.

Tony laughs and replies, ‘Kid, you and I both know that you need to learn to say no. It’s about you taking on too much- well, partially that- but it’s also that you take on extra when you can easily say no.”

Peter thinks about that for a moment before responding, “Well, what am I supposed to do? I can’t just say no to someone in need.” By now, Tony is pulling onto the road as Peter leans his head against the window. “That’s true, just be mindful of those who need help and those who are taking advantage of you. Remember, put on your own oxygen mask before helping others.”

What Tony says rings true, and Peter sits with it for a bit. Maybe people are taking advantage of him. Or maybe he just took on too much. Right now, Peter is too exhausted to figure out which one applies to his current situation.

Eventually, Peter allows himself to close his eyes, finally allowing himself a moment of peace. (Sleeping on school desks is never comfortable, ignore if anyone tells you otherwise.) As he lays back against the seats, with the soothing hum of the car, Peter drifts off to sleep.

When they arrive at the Tower, Tony isn’t sure whether or not to wake Peter. It looks like he’s finally comfortable and finally resting. However, one quick glance at the clock and he knows Peter would be upset if he didn’t wake him up in time to review for his presentation. “Hey,” Tony starts gently shaking Peter, “We’re home. It’s 4:30 P.M. Figured you and Harley would want some time to prep for tonight, and maybe even have some dinner before.”

Peter musters up all the strength he was to get up and make his way out of the car. He thanks Tony and sluggishly drags himself to the lab. The bright lights from the Tower and the constant jostling are enough to wake him up a tad, but he’s still rather dazed.

As he enters the lab, Peter is met with Harley and his team all frantically reviewing. Harley is pointing at people and assigning roles as he catches a glimpse that Peter arrived. “-And you, get Peter a coffee, please!” The intern runs off and quickly returns with a cup of expresso for Peter.

“Alright, what do we need to go over,” Peter says as he takes a sip of his drink- and suddenly he feels much more awake. Harley begins running down everything they’ve covered. Who will be discussing the prompt, the robot, the calculations, and its real-world implications. “We just need someone to finalize the posters. Do you have the files, Peter?”

Peter nods, taking another sip of his expresso. (He can feel his entire body shaking.) “Yeah, I got them. Just to clarify, it’s one poster showing the rendered robot, another showing the entire crew, and one more for the overview and prompt?” Harley nods as Peter sets off to work in the corner. He and the team had agreed that he would begin the presentation and introduce their design, leaving the math to the other interns and Harley, who was far more awake and present. Peter quickly notices that he’s drank all of his expresso, and goes off to get more. His body is shaking and he feels dizzy, but he needs to stay awake. He just needs to make it through tonight.

Opening his computer, Peter finalizes all the posters and sends them down to the printing lab. He takes it as his excuse to get up and walk around, making sure his legs don’t fall asleep. He starts looking over all the reports, research, and calculations they did, and everything looks good. However, you can never be too sure.

Harley seems to be stressed out of his mind. “Okay, we start in an hour. Anything else we need to get done?” he frantically asks the group. After a series of ‘no’, Peter mentions that he’s going to pick up the posters and bring them up and that it should be the final thing they need. Harley lets out a sigh of relief and opts to join Peter as they both head downstairs.

The ride down the elevator is calming. Peter takes it as his chance to drop his head onto Harley’s shoulder. To this, Harley brings up his hand and begins playing with Peter’s hair. “I’m so tired..: Peter says, mumbling into his shoulders, The expresso is making him shake and he refuses to drink more, genuinely concerned for his health. “I know. You just need to do this one last thing, then you’re free.” Harley says as he places a light kiss on Peter’s head before they step put the elevator. Thankfully, the printing lab was empty. Both boys quickly gather the posters and then stand there for a moment.

“You know, I’m really sorry I snapped at you,” Harley says quietly. He’s looking down at the floor and won’t look up. “I was just so scared, I’m sorry if I made it worse.”

“No, no you didn’t.” Peter starts, “Yeah, it hurt, but I needed the reality check. I was so far in my own head that I didn’t realize what exactly I was doing. I didn’t consider how it’d affect me, or you…” Peter replies. They both look up and meet each others’ eyes. Peter notices the beginning of tears forming in Harley’s eyes and he makes his way over to catch them before they fall.

“I had a stumble. I’m…” and Peter wants to say that he’s okay, but he doesn’t want to lie anymore. He wants to fall over. He wants to cry. He wants to go to bed. “I’m getting help,” he concludes. Harley nods in approval of that statement and makes his way to kiss Peter’s foreahead. I’m just happy you’re okay,” He whispers.

Peter smiles and after a few seconds of enjoying each others embrace, they pull apart and begin to head back upstairs. By now, it’s 6:17 P.M., and Peter chooses to get a meal and a shower in before he presents. He is fighting to stay awake, as the espresso is wearing off and he can feel himself crashing soon.

After a quick warm shower, Peter finds himself a plate of food waiting for him at the table. Stephen is in the kitchen cleaning dishes when he noticies Peter. “Hey, I saved you a plate. Nervous?”

Peter immediately begins to scarf down the food. He feels slightly more refreshed after the shower, however the food finally makes him feel complete. His stomach is no longer growling and he’s not so light headed anymore. After a little small talk with Stephen, Peter feels a little more relaxed. They fall into a casual conversation, delicately avoiding the topic of Peter’s situation. He’s thankful, truly. He feels guilty enough and hearing about how it hurrt those around him just makes him feel worse.

By now, its 6:48 P.M. and Harley comes rushing into the kitchen. Without forming a coherent sentence, Peter understands what Harley is trying to say. “Robot. Present. Prep. Now.” Immediately, they both get up and begin bolting to the lab. In the distance, they hear Stephen wish them good luck.

The reason they were both so stressed was because of their reputations. It meant the expectations were even higher. These weren’t scientist that were just impressed because Peter was related to Tony Stark, these are people who couldn’t give less of a shit about Tony’s fame. However, they took it into account when setting the expectation.

When they make it to the lab, the other interns are also franctincally reviewing flash cards and pacing around the room. Peter luckily didn’t need to prepare for much, he just reviewed the outline of the introduction. Instead, he opted for drinking more espresso, trying to make it through the final push. His reward after this would be a long awaited nap.

As the scientist enter the room, Peter escapes into his safe space. If it was nay other day, he’d be fully present and in the moment, which might have caused an anxiety attack. However, Peter is just too tired to give a fuck. He disappears into his safe space and puts on his confident persona.

He goes trough the overview and introduction smoothly. Not really remembering where he is, just that he’s talking. Peter isn’t even present in the moment when the team begins to discuss the calcutioans and revisions they went through.

Peter only snaps back to reality when the board claps and congratulations them. Their faces ins’t giving anything away, he can;t tell if they’re disappointed or impressed. But honestly, he doesn’t care.

They end up finishing at 9:51 P.M. and Peter is beat. He can hardly stand up straight, and Harley is supporting his every step. When they finally making it to his bedroom, Peter dones;t even bother to get under the sheets. He falls onto his bed and the minute his head hits the mattress, he is out like a light.

Harley chuckles at the sight and draps a blanket over Peter, before kissing his forehead. Peter finally gets a break after, what he considers to be, the worst week of his life.

End.

Reposting the fic I posted here a few months ago. Wanna get into formatting more on tumblr!

#peter parker #harley keener #parkner #peter x harley #peter parker x harley keener #mcu #marvel #mcu fanfiction #i love them #mlm #gay

53 notes · View notes

gravidwithlore · 2 months

Text

Here's the whole dang polycule! I wanted a sort of official reference for myself to keep track of everybody's design (at least at the start of their story and pre-pregnancy for Brone) and decided to put them together in a handy height chart. Backstories, etc down below

Brone

He/Him, mtf, bi/demisexual

Age: 42

Class: Rogue

(Accidentally forgot his og 5 o'clock shadow oops)

Orphaned at 8 by raiders destroying his village, Brone has had a hard life. Forgotten by the other refugees of his village, abused by the orphanages, starving and homeless on the streets. Around 16-17 he decided to join a mercenary company, already with a few scars of his own battles on the streets, he quickly earning a reputation as gruff and stand-offish. Due to the fact that he's been binding since he was young and he lives in a fantasy world where magic T potions are cheap and widely available, nobody (alive, at least) knew he was trans until he went into labor, and gave birth to his son, Wulf, while ferrying Melian, Jiyan, and Rhiannon through the dangerous Wandering Woods. Deeply anxious and Depressed™️, he doesn't do the best job of taking care of himself, it doesn't help that he's still in the scarcity mindset he had to live by in his teenage years. Technically human, but descended from giants (specifially storm giants, its part of where the Anxiety comes from), he is not aware of this until later on.

Brendan

He/Him, cis, pansexual

Age: 38

Class: Barbarian/Artificer

(Accidentally forgot to add freckles)

Brendan also lost his parents, who had been blacksmiths and taught him the trade, but while he was in his 20's. His little sister, with a desire to become an adventurer, convinced him to go on a journey to avenge their parents/get info about their death. He reluctantly agreed, and for the next few years absolutely hated it. He had gotten separated from his sister, kept prisoner, and forced into labor once his captors found out about his smithing talents. While his sister got a little sidetracked, living out a true adventurers fantasy (getting distracted by sidequests and forming her own adventuring party), Brendan was in his own personal hell, his passion for smithing turned against him, as he tried to calculate and plan his escape. Eventually, he escaped and helped free the other prisoners, and reunited with his sister. Afterwards they stop to rest in the village, where the rest will eventually arrive a few years later, and Brendan tells her he's had enough and settles down to be the villages blacksmith, and reclaims his passion on his own terms. Also mostly human, he may be a tall boy, but he is descended from dwarves (he got that dwarven swagger and metalworking autism).

Rhiannon

She/Her, mtf, bisexual

Age: 32

Class: Wizard (Bladesinger)/Fighter

Rhiannon comes from a long line of warriors, specifically monster hunters. Somewhere down the line, the family reached some sort of truce with most of monster kind, but the warrior/hunter spirit never really left. They were totally cool when she came out as trans, and a little confused when she was interested in academics just as much as she was in combat. But her family ultimately disapproves of her choice to take over the abandoned farm left to the family by a distant relative. No matter how much she explains how tired she is of adventuring, of traveling all the time, of constantly being on alert for any sign of a fight; her family refuses to get it. She's been traveling/in a relationship with Melian and Jiyan for several years, and has grown closer to them than she ever was with her own family. Surprisingly, the only one in the polycule who's 100% human.

Jiyan

He/Him, cis, pansexual

Age: 34

Class: Bard

Jiyan is your typical flirty twink himbo bard, and also, so much more. Part of a semi-secret order of bards, whose entire mission is to find and neutralize cursed and evil musical instruments. Well they focus on all cursed objects, but specialize mostly in musical instruments. Met Rhiannon and Melian on one of his missions to find and secure one such instrument, and has been with them (adventuring, but also in an open relationship) ever since. Most of their adventures in the past few years have actually been in service to his mission and his order, since neither of them really had their own agenda while adventuring. Some of his stupidity/flirting/general bard-ness is overplayed, serving the dual purpose of letting people underestimate him until it's too late and helping him resist the psychic damage many cursed instruments give off. Doesn't entirely understand Rhiannons desire to quit adventuring and live the farm life, but he supports her all the way. He'll of course still be called out on missions, but it might be nice to have a base to come back to that isn't just full of other bards. Half-elf.

Melian

They/Them, nonbinary, asexual

Age: ??? (they're an elf idk)

Class: Cleric/Druid

Melian was mostly raised in the forest by an order of druidic healers who rever the circle of Life and Death. Melian was much more drawn to the Life aspect of things, and was taught how to assist Life in all the ways it might need their assistance, from midwifery to gardening to fighting as a last resort. They always felt that though they themselves are a part of Life, they were more of an outside observer who sometimes lends a helping hand. Because of this, their social skills are a little lacking, at least when they leave the forest they call home and mingle with the rest of the world. Rhiannon is the first person, outside of their forest, that they felt like they can be themselves around without undue judgement. It takes them a little but longer to open up to Jiyan when the pair meet him, but eventually they grow to be comfortable around him as well. Is excited to help with Rhiannons farm, in fact they immediately told her they would be in charge of seeds, planting, landscaping, etc. May be planning a few plant experiments as well. 100% elf (but not the insufferable kind).

#building a home #my art #brone #brendan #rhiannon #jiyan #melian #mpreg #tmpreg

29 notes · View notes

blitz0hno · 2 months

Text

This got long so TL;DR: Mikoto acts on autopilot ~%90 of the time, but I believe he planned (most of) his crimes. He has straightforward reasons that align with his actions, but appears purely unreasonable because of his mental state. Kotoko is very deliberate, but acts her most violent out of raw emotion. She appears calculating, but feels completely out-of-control despite her strong "heroic" front.

y'know it SEEMS cliche that John screams like a madman every time he fronts but gee horror tropes aside has Es considered that switching can HURT?? like a lot???? Like idk maybe feeling your body flood with adrenaline and being made to handle that shit the moment someone "pisses him off" is a little bit agonizing? Maybe having no idea what's going on until he can process the emotional flooding adds fear which really doesn't help???

Fuck mannnnn when you read between the lines, John and Mikoto are a REALLY good deconstruction.

... especially since he is contrasted mainly with Kotoko. I say this because I was just struck with an idea.

ESSAY TIME LITERALLY A WHOLE ESSAY CAME OF THIS RANDOM THOUGHT no sources tho pure opinion~

So KOTOKO, despite saving the girl being her primary objective, kicked her victim to death out of anger. At her core, despite all her ideals, she was not acting out of reason or necessity, however reasonable the actual action seems.

Given that prisoner pairs are meant to starkly contrast, that gives me my best reasoning as to why I defend Mikoto's innocent vote while also praying John DOESN'T disappear:

Despite how unreasonable and irrational John acts at first, there's a reason he reacts the way he does. And deep down, somewhere in his mind, MIKOTO knows the reason he did what he did. His motives are real, even if he doesn't remember carrying out such a "dream." This leads me to believe there were REALLY big reasons, and likely good reasons, for killing who he did.

A deliberate, maybe even carefully premeditated act would undeniably lead to the death sentence. His brain knows this even if Mikoto himself isn't consciously thinking of it. But a defense of randomly "losing control?" MAYBE he can keep surviving. Because all he was doing was surviving.

I believe that when one protects themselves, they protect others as well. Perhaps I am biased, but no, abusive people should not go unaddressed and uninterrupted. It's very very very implied that John and Mikoto went after people he felt endangered by. I went over this in my first "Double" analysis, but TL;DR I think the red herring John gave (which is funny cuz that phrase comes from tactics to throw DOGS off their trail) goes SO much farther thematically than I've seen talk about.

John has reasons that he does what he does, as does Mikoto. Systems are wired for survival. The lucky ones do well in academics and even many job environments because they are ALWAYS processing what to do next. Burnout is SEVERE because the brain is basically always "on alert," even when we're checked out. I can find clinically documented sources for this claim and I will if I make a video or something about this, but yeah it sure is an EXPERIENCE when it all comes crashing down. Trying to end a cycle.

As for Kotoko? She is literally portrayed to have a one-track mind. Her ideals and justice. But ironically? She killed out of raw anger and emotion, which is what the wolf at the end of Deep Cover represents. Despite having a very "normal" life overall, SHE is the one who truly loses all control of herself. SHE beats up the people who annoy her. Because it's grating, as she said in Deep Cover, to face the ugliness of humanity and NOT be able to escape your brain's response to it. SHE cannot "disappear" and forget her rage at injustice like Mikoto can. She is at the mercy of this uncontrolled rage and the resulting violence she allows herself to perpetrate. Repeating a cycle.

it's so brilliant. It's SO brilliant. They are the same. They couldn't be more different. Neither is a hero nor a monster. But they are heroes in SOMEONE'S, or arguably MANY people's eyes. And yet in both 009 and 010's cases, when we see their truest and most raw colors, we question EVERYTHING we assumed before.

Mikoto is not telling the whole truth when he says he doesn't get angry or remember anything. John straight-up lied to cover Mikoto's motives for doing so, and possibly out of his own genuine confusion. He is acting on instinct drilled in by traumatic events that the brain is using as reference; however, with how DID works, John is not going to know that. It's not his "job," the protection role he plays in the system , to know that. Yet there are reasons all the same. His BIG reason, which he calls out to Mikoto in "Double," over and over, was to SAVE Mikoto. Meanwhile, Mikoto is afraid of his actions, but presumably carried them out in order to stay alive. Whatever his "dream," he still wishes he could be seen as a good man despite what he presumably felt he had to do to survive. DID is the "sink or swim" disorder; it's literally about saving yourself and being protected from the emotions that come with it. Whether or not his reasons truly make sense is yet to be seen, but either way, Mikoto feels he cannot trust himself. He is cut off from emotions that would make him believe his reasons were "bad enough" to ACTUALLY warrant murder. That is why he split; to forget how bad it truly got. He has NO idea how protected he truly is.

Kotoko firmly believes that she is COMPLETELY honest about what she wants and what she wishes to do about it. She believes her anger is justified completely, and thus her actions must be justified as well. This reasoning allows her to be completely convinced that she is aware of and comfortable with her every choice. Her reaction to her own anger, leaving Lucky behind in that rage, and her reaction to the wolf in "Deep Cover" revealed her awareness and comfort to be a self-imposed illusion of strength. Her ideals are real and she fights for them, yet she's crossed so many lines that she's actually very afraid of what she's become. It's right behind her, isn't it? Something she cannot run from before it swallows her. And having picked apart every other person there? She is alone; but this fear isn't "strong," so she hides it away for the extraction machine to reveal to us as the audience.

Both are driven by larger-than-life emotions that can only come from raw existential anguish; emotions repressed until they explode. Neither are anywhere near what they seem to be on the surface. Both are unknowingly dishonest. Neither knows what to do about it.

I wanna say there's hope for them but you know. Superhell.

24 notes · View notes

7-wonders · 1 year

Text

Apocalypse Now

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XII)

Summary: The end is here, despite your best efforts.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I'm sorry, this is straight angst. Oops?

Mad Love Masterlist

Tuesdays are objectively the worst day of the week. Though Monday is rough, being the first day after the weekend, it can still be spun as a positive—a brand new week, just full of possibilities. Wednesdays, at least, have the “hump day” moniker to give one some hope that the week is half over. Thursdays are alright because that means it’s almost Friday, and Fridays are what it must be like to take every party drug at once.

Tuesdays, though? Tuesdays suck. It’s far enough into the week to feel none of the residual weekend happiness, but the upcoming weekend is still very much out of grasp. Tuesday is hopelessness personified, if one is feeling particularly dramatic.

That’s why it’s fitting that the world ends on a Tuesday.

You’re in class, because where else would you be? Luckily, this is your capstone class, which is just a class for seniors who are, predictably, working on their capstones to be able to bounce ideas off of and support each other. Since you and Kate are both seniors (and because you literally signed up for this class at the same time) you have the class together, thankfully—you keep each other sane by being insane together, and nowhere is that more apparent than when the two of you work on your respective theses.

“You think I can get away with calling Kant a cunt if I do it, like, academically?” Kate whispers into your ear from where she’s sitting next to you. She keeps her eyes on her laptop screen the entire time, making you choke back a laugh at her easy nonchalance.

“Not by using those exact words, but yeah, as long as you cite your sources.” You run the same drill as Kate, refusing to look away and draw suspicion as you both snicker quietly to yourselves. “Do you wanna grab coffee and pretend to keep working after class?”

“God, yes. Then I can tell you about what went down at last night’s Greek Life exec meeting.” She glances at you from the corner of her eye. “It came out that three of the Chi O sisters are dating each other.”

(With hindsight on your side, you’ll look back on this day and think with bitter regret about how utterly, perfectly normal the day the world ended was. The gossiping conversations, the plans being made, the going about your day with all the confidence that you’ll see tomorrow.

You miss that innocence.)

You gasp under your breath at this exciting tidbit. “No way! How did they–”

You’re cut off by the alarm on someone’s phone blaring. No, multiple phones are blaring out an emergency alarm, and those that aren’t are vibrating, yours included. People dig their phones out of pockets and backpacks, and you pick yours up from where it sits on the table next to your computer and flip it around so that you can see the screen.

You wish you didn’t.

“BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND. SEEK SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL,” the alert on your phone reads.

You look up at Kate as your classmates begin to mutter around you in a mix of nervous laughter and disbelief, only to see the same shock and confusion on her face that must surely be reflected in yours.

“Do you think this is real?” you ask, your heart beginning to hammer in your throat at the implications of such a message.

“It can’t be. It’s–it’s like that time in Hawaii, remember? We’ll get an alert in a few minutes saying that it was all a mistake,” she assures you, always so calm and rational about everything.

You nod and take a couple of deep breaths to calm down. Kate is right, you tell yourself. Somebody accidentally hit a button at a command center when they were trying to conduct a test, and now everybody’s freaking out as a result. They’ve probably already caught the mistake and are preparing to do damage control. The employee will lose their job, unfortunately, but that’s to be expected when accidentally causing mass panic. All in all, this will make a fun story in a couple of years: the time you thought you were about to be caught up in nuclear warfare.

Screaming draws your attention to the large windows to the right of you, and you and others cross the room to see what the commotion is. Outside, people of all ages are running in various directions across campus for—well, for their lives. The way everyone hurries reminds you of watching an ant farm. Someone trips and goes sprawling to their hands and knees, only to have to roll to the grass to prevent almost being trampled. Their belongings, having fallen from their grasp, are kicked and scattered without any care.

The panic from outside leaches through the wall and begins to spread through the classroom like a fast-moving disease. Warning sirens, which you didn’t know were still in operation after the Cold War, begin to wail. Some classmates start trying to reach friends or loved ones on their phones, while others just make a break for the door. At the front of the room, your professor sits, paralyzed, with tears running down his face while he scrolls his social media and tries to find anything to confirm that this is all just a terrible misstep.

Your stomach drops like you’re lurching down from the top of a very tall roller coaster, and you look back at Kate. “We gotta go.”

“Where?” she asks. You just shake your head, throwing everything into your backpack and zipping it up before grabbing Kate’s hand. You don’t know where it is you need to go, only that you can’t stay here. Taking one last look back at the classroom to make sure you have everything, you and Kate join the flow of people heading down the stairs to try and escape.

Hand in hand so as not to get separated in the crowd, you both run through the campus green. It’s a perfect late-autumn day, really. The sun is high in the blue, cloudless sky and the temperature is warm, but with a bit of a chill from the wind. It’s the type of weather that makes you want to spend all day outside so as not to waste it. The juxtaposition, between the pleasant weather and the chaotic, frightened atmosphere, is not lost on you.

“Wait,” Kate raises her voice to be heard over the panicked din, “we need a plan.”

You wrack your brain, trying to think of anything beyond how scared you are. “Uh…we’ll get in my car, okay? I filled up on gas this morning. And–and we’ll drive as fast as we can, to get as far away as we can before the blast happens. I think we can get out of the major blast zone.”

“Okay, yeah. That sounds good.”

She nods at you, and you nod back, both trying to reassure the other. The parking lot appears as you round a corner, and you tear your backpack around to your front so that you can find your keys.

“Wait!” Kate says again. “What about Brennan? And Michael?”

Hearing Michael’s name sends alarm bells flaring in the back of your mind. There’s something about him and this nightmare that are connected, but the primal parts of your brain, the one telling you that flight is the best option for survival right now, is too active for you to have any sort of introspection in this moment.

“Call them,” you answer without hesitation, “we can pick them up on the way out of town.”

Kate grabs her phone, finding Brennan’s number and hitting ‘call’ before holding the device up to her ear. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” she mutters, listening closely. “Fuck! I can’t get through.”

“Keep trying. One has to go through eventually. And if they don’t, we at least know where they both are.”

“Do you really think this is going to work? That we’re going to survive?” Kate asks, dialing Brennan once more.

The truth is that you don’t know. You hope it does, that you can at least give yourself a fighting chance to not immediately die when the missiles hit. But there’s just as big a chance that you can’t make it out, that you will die. That’s terrifying, and it makes your throat tighten from terror. The only thing that keeps you from outright freaking out is that, if you do die, at least you’ll have Kate right there next to you.

“I don’t know. But I can promise you that we’re going to try our hardest to survive,” you say.

You can see your car now, only a couple of rows away. Maybe you will actually make it. Maybe this plan will work, and the four of you will end up riding out the end of the world together. Maybe survival can happen; you’re all pretty resourceful, and if you can at least get past the blasts, you can—

An armored vehicle screeches to a halt in front of you, sending you and Kate rearing back as your path is cut off. Two figures dressed in black suits hop out and begin to walk towards you with a purpose. Behind them, military personnel also exit the vehicle. Immediately, your worst fears are confirmed, and you know what this must be. Trying to avoid the inevitable, you begin taking hurried steps back.

One of the men in black says your name. “You need to come with us,” he commands.

“Fuck you, I’m not going anywhere with you!” You try to run to your left, hoping to catch them off-guard and make a break for it, but the other man in black stands in front of you.

“I’m afraid we can’t accept that,” he says, motioning for the military personnel.

Two of them approach you, their rifles belted to their fronts and serving as a menacing reminder that you have no power here. They each grab one arm and begin to drag you towards the vehicle, paying no mind to you as you start screaming and trying to fight your way out of their grasps. You hold desperately onto Kate’s hand for as long as you can, but it’s only a matter of time before you lose your hold.

“Wait! Where are you taking her?” you hear Kate yell behind you.

“Kate! Kate!” you shriek, high and piercing and terrified.

You look over your shoulder to see two other soldiers blocking her from reaching you. You’re both sobbing, but there’s nothing either of you can do about it. You’re unceremoniously thrown into the backseat of the armored vehicle, the door slamming shut before you can even think to move. Up front, the driver throws it into gear and peals away from the parking lot. When you scramble to your knees, you’re forced to watch as Kate’s figure rapidly grows smaller and smaller.

“Please go back! You have to take Kate, too! Please!” you beg.

“Shut up!” One of the men shoves you down into your seat, and when you try to get up, he backhands you across the face.

“Hey, be careful with her!” another warns. “You remember what they said. No harm is to come to the boss’s wife.”

The pain of the slap has you reeling, but it also serves to clear your mind enough that the reality of what was just said begins to sink in. You’re apparently the boss’s wife, which means one thing and one thing only.

He’s done it, then? This is all the doing of one Michael Langdon, who for so long swore to you that the world would not end for years, that you would be well aware of when and if his plans were going to be realized? You don’t want to believe it, but, unfortunately, it’s the reality that you seem to be faced with. In response, your tears dry up, and you sit silently and stoically for the rest of the ride.

It’s not a very long journey to wherever you’re being taken to, maybe fifteen minutes or so before the truck is driven into a garage. You look out the back window again to see the garage door closing behind you, the rectangle of light growing smaller and smaller until it finally disappears. Deep down, you know that this was probably your last time seeing the sunlight. You don’t know whether watching it will make you feel better or worse.

The soldiers drag you out of the car just as they dragged you in, marching you through what looks like an underground parking garage towards an elevator and forcing you to stand between them as the men in black join your little group. One of them reaches out a hand, gloved in black leather, so they can stab at the control panel. Even though they press the topmost button, the elevator begins to move down.

The silence begins to stretch on, and you shift uncomfortably. “Is my—” your voice breaks, and you clear your throat. “Is Michael here?”

Predictably, they ignore you, staring straight ahead at their distorted reflections in the chrome doors.

When the doors do finally ding open, they reveal what looks like the living room of an apartment. The walls are bare, but there are all the normal furnishings that one would expect to find: a couch, a TV, a coffee table. There are no windows, you note, the only light available emitting harshly from the fixtures up above. You’re sat down on the couch, and you glare petulantly at your kidnappers.

“Where are we?” you demand. “I deserve answers.”

“You’ll be safe here,” one of them says instead of answering your question.

Single-file, they move back into the elevator, presumably to return to the surface. As the doors shut once more, you hold eye contact with the soldier that hit you.

He looks at you in fear, his lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly.

The elevator whirs back to life as it begins its travels up, and the sound serves to jolt you out of your stunned state and remind you that you have free will. You jump up from the couch and run to the elevator, hoping for a way out. There’s no call panel on the wall next to it, meaning that the only way it can be accessed is from the inside. Effectively, you’re trapped.

Panic returns in full-force at this revelation, and you frantically start trying to get your fingers into the seam of the door. Maybe if you pull hard enough, you’ll be able to pry them open? You’re not sure what you’ll do after that, but at least then you’ll have options.

Just as you’re starting to delude yourself that you think you can feel a gap widening under your grip, an explosion rocks the world above you. It’s loud, louder than you thought possible for how far below ground you must be, and you scream as you fall to the floor. The shock of the blast reverberates all the way down to what must be the Earth’s core, causing the room to shake around you. The lights flicker and go out before being replaced by an eerie red glow, and an alarm starts to methodically sound.

A sob rips from you, your heart knowing what’s just happened before your brain can come to the same conclusion. A nuclear weapon, dropped right over your head. Death and destruction wreaking havoc on the world in a matter of seconds. Mere circumstance saving you, while those you love are left to perish.

Against your will, you’re forced to imagine the scenarios. Kate was probably still outside, nowhere near any sort of safety. Brennan must have been so worried, trying just as desperately until his last moments to try and reach Kate. Mallory, you know, would have been more worried for her students, for her girls, than herself. Your parents…fuck. You didn’t even get to tell your parents you love them. The grief is overwhelming, and threatens to swallow you whole.

A hand comes to rest under your chin, lifting your face up from where it’s been hanging in despair. Through tears, you see a figure with blue eyes and golden hair crouched in front of you. Their thumb gently presses on your lip, and you inhale sharply at the pain, the source of which must have been the slap.

“Who did this to you? Was it one of the personnel who brought you here?” he asks, fury in his tone.

“Michael,” you cry out, letting him collect you in his embrace. He’s so comforting, so familiar, that you can forget for a moment that he’s the source of your current agony.

“Oh my love, it’s alright. We’re both safe,” he soothes, rubbing a hand on your back as you sob into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t warn you beforehand, but these plans were extremely confidential.”

That reminds you who it is you’re crying on, and you pull yourself up off of his shoulder. Michael’s looking down at you with all the love in the world in his eyes and frowning just slightly in sympathy for your plight.

Rage, hot and incandescent, floods through your veins.

“You did this, then?” you ask.

He smiles proudly. “As I was born to do.”

“And…everybody’s dead?” Your voice comes out strangled, though you try your hardest to school your emotions.

“Not everybody. Those that managed to earn a spot in an Outpost are all alive and well. There will be a good number of people who were far enough away from blast zones to have survived the initial blast. The fallout will take care of them within a couple years, though.” He shakes his head in pity. “Nasty thing, nuclear fallout. If exposed for even a few minutes, cancer and sores can easily develop. Mutations as well.”

That sounds horrifying. However morbid it may be, for the sake of those you love, you hope that the blasts killed them.

The look on your face must match how you’re feeling, because Michael quickly takes your hands in his. “I know, it sounds terrible. But their deaths were necessary! They fulfill a purpose.”

“And what purpose is that?”

“To cleanse the world and remake it in my father’s image, for you and I to rule as we see fit.”

A wave of nausea takes over you, and you have to close your eyes and breathe deeply to keep from becoming sick. You stand, backing away from Michael as quickly as you can. He tries to follow, but you hold your hands out in front of you to stop him from coming any closer.

“You bastard,” you whisper.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What?”

You look up at him, fire in your eyes. “You. Bastard.”

“You don’t really mean that.” You can’t tell if he’s in disbelief or if he’s challenging you to repeat that.

“Yes, I do. You killed them! You killed all of them, for no good reason—”

“You know the reason!” he yells, grabbing onto your upper arms and pulling you to him. Though you try to fight your way out of his grasp, your resistance is futile. “I am doing this for us,” he hisses. “So that we can have the future we’ve dreamed about, the future that we’ve earned with our hard work.”

“This is not the future I dreamed about.” You shove him away, making him glare at you as though you’re his enemy.

Your Michael, the one that you know and love, is nowhere to be seen. Gone is the Michael that would tell you everything. The Michael that researched grad schools as though he was the one that would be attending, the Michael that took a body shot off of you, the Michael that lit up the first time that he saw fireflies, the Michael that loved Valentine’s Day because it meant that he got to shower you in love and there was nothing you could do about it.

Now, there’s a man wearing your husband’s face, who stands before you unrepentant and assured in his actions. This stranger has been completely and utterly corrupted by his father, and in such a short amount of time. As it turns out, all of your hard work only served to send him quicker into the throes of darkness.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” you say, tears welling in your eyes for the umpteenth time today.

“This is who I have always been,” he proclaims proudly. “You just haven’t wanted to see it.”

“You’re a fucking monster.” Amidst all of the uncertainty that you’re currently faced with, through all of the horror you’ve been forced to endure in one day, this is what you can be certain of.

Michael smiles patronizingly, as though you’re a mere child who insists that the bogeyman is real and he’s the adult that knows better. “You’ll come to your senses. Just give it some time.”

He grabs your hand against your will, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it.

“Soon, our reign begins.”

Tag List: @thatonehumanbeing05 @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @blakescoven @wroteclassicaly @we-did-it-joe @codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene @michaellangdonswhore @nsainmoonchild @langdonsjoyy @aftertheglitterfades @ferndolan @iamlivingforturner @moonlike333 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @angiestopit @littleangel4996 @xo-angel-ox @ajokeformur-ray

(I really don't know why I still do a tag list. Habit, I suppose.)

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #ahs #michael langdon imagines #mad love musings

105 notes · View notes

daught3rofyahweh · 4 months

Text

~ Astrogalomancy ~

Astrogalomancy is the practice of using dice as a form of divination tool. Each number consists of a meaning. Sometimes a dice cup is used by casters practicing this divination.

If using multiple dice, a circle can be drawn. Close your eyes while thinking of or stating your question and toss the dice down. Any dice that land outside of the circle are to be ignored.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Roll of 1:

Roll of 1 indicates tension or a family/romantic issue. A period of isolation may be upon you. This roll suggests you take some alone time to cool off.

Roll of 2:

Roll of 2 means that something is not as it appears. A double meaning may be taking hold in a situation in your life. This roll suggests to pay attention to your decisions in your life.

Roll of 3:

Roll of 3 indicates good luck. This roll tells you to pay attention to the importance of things going on in your life as they will bring good change.

Roll of 4:

Roll of 4 tells you to take a step back. Though stepping back may make you struggle getting your goals faster, it is to test you for better success.

Roll of 5:

Roll of 5 indicates something new entering your life. It could be new information or a person. This is no need to worry as a roll of 5 is usually positive so any news or person that comes your way, they will impact you in an amazing way. It could also represent of person you had a falling out with, coming back into your life.

Roll of 6:

Roll of 6 means bad luck is upon you but mainly to another person in your life. It could mean that someone in your life lost a friend, family member, a job, etc. It could also mean a friend is coming back to you for help.

Roll of 7:

Roll of 7 represents trouble. This could mean gossip, scandals, or legal issues that threaten to mess with your life or someone close to you. This could consist of in person or within social media.

Roll of 8:

Roll of 8 tells you to take things slow and steady rather than behaving recklessly. If you are stuck in a decision, you can choose not to decide. Wait and see how events change.

Roll of 9:

Roll of 9 indicates love and passion. If you are single, it could be about a new crush or relationship on the horizon. If in a relationship, it could represent a growth in closeness and rekindling love.

Roll of 10:

Roll of 10 represents creativity and new ideas. In a business matter, success and positive growth is upon you. In person matters, it could be positive productivity. In some cases, it may also be about pregnancy and birth.

Roll of 11:

Roll of 11 indicates an unhealthy course. Take care of those around you and yourself, the chaos will end in short time. In business or finance, 11 indicates a loss or someone cheating.

Roll of 12:

Roll of 12 indicates good news from an institution. It could represent good financial news. It could also represent good news from an employer or academic.

Roll of 13:

Roll of 13 represents internal hardship. A state of depression or stress is indicated. This roll reminds you to have hope and to look towards the positive side. The pain won't last forever.

Roll of 14:

Roll of 14 indicates a social or family gathering that brings good fortune and happy times. This roll tells you that assistance comes from social contacts or someone in your family. If single, it could mean you might be on the path towards a relationship that could start from a social activity.

Roll of 15:

Roll of 15 can be either positive or negative. It usually represents rapid changes in friendships. This means that new friendships can be made from the loss of one.

Roll of 16:

Roll of 16 indicates travel. It may be a long or short trip. The trip will be a postive one and worth taking. This roll tells you to be alert and not to ignore positive possibilities upon this trip.

Roll of 17:

Roll of 17 indicates a shift in opinions, feelings, or emotions. This shift could either be for the better or for the worse. It's important to be aware of the thoughts and emotions of others. The roll being positive or negative, depends on how you focus on others.

Roll of 18:

Roll of 18 indicates success. This roll means your goals will be achieved and that past efforts will pay off. The roll could also be telling you not to give up on a goal you want to accomplish.

#witchcraft #witch #divination #astrogalomancy #dicedivination #divination tools #occult #folk magic #yahwistwitch

50 notes · View notes

blooming-violets · 8 months

Text

CREATURE LIKE ME || CHAPTER FIVE (part one): YOU'RE IN A CULT

[TASM Peter Parker!Werewolf AU]

Story Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands.

Chapter Five Warnings (spoilers): mild sexual exhibitionism (fondling an exposed breast) in front of an unwilling person, being unknowingly drugged

[link to chapter index]

The familiar scent of pine soothed her worried soul as she stepped through the threshold of her home.

Their little, brown cabin, with its sturdy fireplace of stacked, gray stones, and pine needle covered roof gave off the illusion of a safe haven. She might be back in her guild’s territory but this was her house. Her home. Here, she could find respite.

It was quiet as she stood in her cozy living room. Everything was still. By mid day, her mother would have been in the communal kitchen preparing meals for anyone who might want to stop by for a free lunch. Their guild supported their members and made sure no one would ever go hungry. They functioned as a bunch of tiny parts all moving in unison to form a single, powerful behemoth. They worked on the bartering system and the good will of their neighbors. If something was taken, something else would always need to be given.

Mrs. Harkner, down the road, gave her time to teach the children academics, in return, the children would pick the crops from her garden so her focus could be spent on lesson planning. Mr. Jacobson, at the other end of town, couldn’t aim a gun to save his life, but was an expert in construction and could fix any housing issue that arose. In return, the hunters would make sure he was always provided with fresh game and a well stocked freezer. Eight year old Christopher Lennings would sell freshly made apple juice from the apple tree in his front yard every Saturday morning and all it would cost was the coolest looking rock you could find. Everyone had a job and everyone was taken care of.

As long as they followed the rules.

Aylin had formulated a plan during her five mile hike back home. She knew she would have the house to herself at this time. If she could quickly pack her car full of gear, staying out of sight, then she could head back to Peter for the next few days. During that time, she would get every bit of information she could about Kat’s pack. When she finally returned back to the guild, she could trade that information as an apology for not completing her ritual to become a full time hunter. Trading was how their guild functioned. Information could be traded for a lighter sentencing. Sergei would be more focused on taking action against an entire pack than dealing out punishments for her defiance. She could right all the wrongs before the situation got too out of hand.

It wasn’t a perfect plan but it would have to do.

The old floorboards creaked under foot to alert the only available member of the household to her presence. Her large, sleek black cat lazily rose his head off the sofa to see who dared to disturb his nap. When he caught sight of Aylin, his ears perked up and he gracefully leapt to the floor to greet her by weaving between her legs. He gave a piercing whine, begging for attention.

“Yes, yes. I missed you, too, Kedi.” Aylin bent down to scoop him into her arms where he proceeded to be carried like a baby up the stairs to her bedroom loft. “Has mom been worried about me? Have you been looking after her?”

Kedi purred, his golden eyes squinting up at her. It was a rarity to find him inside their cabin. He preferred to be out hunting for his next meal or clawing his way up the highest tree. Finding him willingly behind walls meant that he knew something was wrong. He had probably spent the night curled up next to Nesrin. Sometimes Aylin swore that he was actually a person trapped inside the body of a cat. She imagined him to be a grumpy, old man who would yell at innocent children to get off his lawn but secretly loved the attention they gave him. He was fearless, tenacious, and a ferocious serial killer of all rodents.

A family of killers. Is that all they were?

Peter’s words from this morning still buzzed around her thoughts like an annoying gnat that refused to leave her personal space.

“We’re not in a cult, right? I’d know if I was in a cult,” she mused down at the cat in her arms.

He responded with a deep, guttural purr that vibrated his entire body.

“Sergei isn’t Jim Jones or Charles Manson. He has a reason behind what we’re doing. There’s a purpose. A meaning. We’re helping people. We’re…” She paused and gave a long sigh. “My father wouldn’t have been best friends with a cult leader. He was smarter than that. He was a good man. Peter’s wrong. He doesn’t know us, does he, Keds? He’s a stupid, low life, pathetic, disgusting werewolf. He’s-”

She stopped to listen to the words falling from her lips. No one was around to hear them and she was still holding deep prejustice for a man who had done nothing but show her kindness and grace despite her attitude.

Lycans. That’s what Peter referred to himself as. Not a werewolf. A lycan. A person with the ability to shift into a wolf.

A person. Not a monster.

Good and bad people. That’s what Peter had said. There were always good and bad people regardless where you stood in the world.

Which one was she?

Aylin carefully dropped Kedi onto her bed so she could pack a bag, trying to pull her thoughts away from Peter’s grasp and focus them back onto the task at hand. Some extra clothes, camping supplies, her crossbow, and more food would be on her list of needed items. She quickly changed out of her dress and into something more practical for forest living. She began tossing clothes out of her drawer and into the waiting duffle bag. As she turned around to pack them more neatly, she stopped to see Kedi curled up under the growing pile.

“You’re not helping, Ked. You’ll suffocate under there if I zip it up,” she smiled softly down at the stubborn cat who merely squinted back at her. He was always able to lift her mood. “Okay fine, you can stay but I’m going to keep packing around you.”

She grabbed an unopened pack of spare toothbrushes and ripped it apart. Carefully, she glanced over the colors, selecting a red and blue striped one for Peter. She felt like he would suit those colors…and he really needed to brush his teeth. It had probably been a while since he had a toothbrush of his own.

With some basic grooming items taken care of and a duffle full of spare clothes, Aylin shooed Kedi out of the way to finish her getaway bag. He followed as she made a handful of trips from the house to her car, filling the trunk with everything her and Peter might need to survive for the next few days. She slammed the full trunk closed, tucking her keys into her pocket, and put her hands on her hips. A sense of determination settled over her.

“There! We have a camping stove, some canned food, extra water…I think we should be all set for a couple days,” she spoke down to the cat waiting patiently at her feet. “If you would like to come with me, Keds, I would be more than happy to bring you. I don’t think Peter would mind the extra company.”

Kedi’s fur raised along his back, his ears flattening, and he gave a long hiss before darting to the safety of the darkness under her car.

“Wha- he’s not that bad, jeeze,” she frowned at his sudden change of attitude, wondering what had set him off, when she heard the crunching of footsteps making their way up her dirt driveway.

“Going somewhere, Aylin?” The familiar baritone voice caused her skin to erupt in goosebumps. Her heart leapt into her throat as a wave of nausea overtook her. She suddenly felt faint.

She wasn’t fast enough.

The only other time she had seen Kedi display fear like that was when a black bear broke through their screened in porch one afternoon to try and grab a bite of his cat food. Even then, he had darted back out from under the safety of a chair to claw the bear across the snout before running away again. Today, he stayed hidden.

Aylin straightened her back, attempting to fix a warm smile onto her lips, and turned around to face Sergei standing in the middle of her driveway. He was dawning his signature werewolf pelt draped over his shoulders and giving her a grin that was stretched far too thin to be anything but forced. The sight of the pelt made her sick to her stomach when she thought about the person who it once was ripped from. Barbaric. He might as well be wearing a pelt of human flesh.

Where was she going? She tried to steady her fluttering heart as a million potential answers swirled around her panicked thoughts.

“I’m planning on going to the Catskills to hike along the Devil’s Path like I do every year,” she lied, thinking quickly. With the way her trunk was currently packed, it easily resembled a hiking trip. She could fake this scenario.

“Isn’t it a little early for that?” He raised his scraggly brow at her. He was starting to get flecks of silver among his dark hair. The silver stood out more prominently against the midday sun and made him look closer than usual to his age. It was rare to catch signs of him aging. He seemed to always be in his prime despite how many years have passed. “Don’t you typically do that hike closer to the summer?”

Aylin shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, “Last summer was too hot. Thought I’d go early this year.”

“In the rainy season, I imagine parts of the hike would be really dangerous?”

She held firmly onto her bluff, knowing he was trying to break her, and kept her eyes locked with his to help sell the lie, “Sure, but isn’t that part of our training? To overcome difficult feats despite the challenges that face us? Besides, it’s not called the Devil’s Path for nothing. It’s meant to keep you on your toes. I think I could use a good challenge. ”

Sergei squinted at her with a hard glare, “Yes. About that. I think we need to have a talk about exactly what challenges are facing you. Something seemed to bother you the other night, did it not?”

She could tell from his tone that he was carefully keeping his voice steady. Under the surface, he was boiling. He wanted her to pay for the other night. There had to be consequences. Aylin had not only gone against his direct orders but, in her defiance, belittled his authority in front of the guild. If there’s one thing to never do to Sergei, it would be to embarrass him. She was now caught in an unwanted game of cat and mouse and she was terrified of losing.

She widened her eyes like it was a shock to hear that and not a conversation she had been dreading, “Oh? You mean when I ran from the ceremony? I’m so sorry about that. Really. I must have eaten something weird. Probably undercooked meat. I got really sick. I spent the night on the toilet. I had to run before I had an accident in front of everyone. You know how it is. When you gotta go, you gotta go.”

He took a step closer, a dreadful smile flicked at the corner of his lips, “Really? I stopped by your house to check on you later that night. I wanted to make sure you were okay after that shameful display you pulled in front of everyone. Your mother told me you weren’t home. Poor woman was worried sick about you. She thought you might have run off and done something stupid.” He paused, closing the gap between them. The cold metal of her car door pushed against her back as he towered over her. He propped an arm against the roof of her car to pin her in place. “Well? Did you? Do something stupid, I mean.”

Her stomach flipped with nerves as she shook her head. She was going to lose this game. The cat was ready to pounce and she had nowhere to hide, caught in place, forced to face her demise. Sergei went in for the kill, sensing he was gaining the upper hand in their silent standoff, and threw a heavy arm around her shoulders. He had her locked tightly in place against his side and gave a loud, dark laugh as if that would expel the thick tension between them. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t hide. He had her exactly where he wanted.

“Why don’t you come take a walk with me, Aylin?” He started to drag her down the driveway. “Cal made rabbit stew earlier. We can have some tea and lunch and discuss our futures. I have a proposition for you. What do you say, kid?”

Despite his question, there was no choice to be had. She was going to be coming with him even if he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her there.

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s okay. I should go leave a note for my mom so she knows where I’m at when she gets back…” Aylin tried to dig her heels into the dirt but got shuffled along like she weighed nothing. Any resistance would be futile. She had lost the game. The cat had caught the mouse and was now boastfully parading her squirming body down the road as he carried it proudly between his salivating jaws.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll inform her exactly where you are should she come asking. There’s nothin’ to worry about. You’re safe with me. You know that.” The weight of his words hung over her like a rapidly approaching storm. There wasn’t a single ounce of truth behind anything he said.

It was only a matter of time before the cat clamped down, piercing her flesh with his razor sharp teeth.

The Kravinoff residence was the largest house in their town. A two story cabin with breathtaking floor to ceiling windows to let in all the natural light. The eaves of the red gabled roof were decorated with ornate wooden details. They had been handcarved by Sergei Sr. when he rebuilt the Kravinoff home many years ago before his passing; his final gift to his spoiled son.

Their kitchen was larger than the floor plan of her entire house with brightly painted, red cabinets to match the color of their roof. A pot of yellow sunflowers brightened up the room to soften the red and create an inviting atmosphere. Calypso lounged against the double wide, walnut island wearing nothing more than a skimpy, silk robe. Her dark, tight curly hair haloed around her head and she flashed Aylin her infamous, pointy toothed grin.

“Ah, the weakling has returned, I see,” she slinked over to the younger woman, standing tall in front of her. “Such a disappointment you gave the guild last night, was it not? I don’t know why Sergei holds you in such high regards. You don’t look like much to me.”

Sergei placed a possessive hand over Aylin’s shoulder, “Now, now, Cal. Enough teasing. Everyone makes mistakes. She says she wasn’t feeling well. Ate some bad meat. Happens to the best of us. Aylin is our guest and should be treated as such. She’s here for a chat over drinks. Why don’t you make us some of your special tea?” His eyes flashed into his wife, giving her a silent command. “The kind we save for our very important guests. Aylin needs to be reminded how much her community values her.”

Calypso smiled and bowed her head, “Of course, dear.”

Aylin was led into the dining room with the sounds of Calypso rustling through the cabinets following her out the door. A long, black cherry dining table, lined with tall chairs, greeted them. At the head of the table was a throne, carved out of the trunk of a tree and adorned with giant wolf claws at the end of the legs. Kraven sank down onto the pelt covered seat. He looked like a true king of his castle. He waved a large hand for her to sit in one of the normal chairs beside him.

She took a hesitant seat, having stayed quiet this whole time, terrified that speaking the wrong words would get her further into trouble. It was better to play defense with Sergei. Let him take the lead so she could match his energy.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been in our home,” he mused, lazily scratching at his beard. “You used to visit all the time with your father. I believe the last time you stepped foot inside these walls was when you were merely 16 years of age.”

After Samuel and Emir’s funeral.

Sergei had held a repast at his home after the burial service. Everyone in town had attended, each bringing a dish of food or drinks, to show their support for the fallen members. Nesrin was too busy weeping in the bathroom to know her daughter was getting wasted off some stolen liquor. Aylin had snuck away from the guests with her bottle in hand to hide in one of Segei’s guest rooms. The rest of the night was a blur but she distantly remembered him finding her tucked away in the corner behind a bed and holding her while she cried. Everything after that was dark. That entire year had been dark.

She remembered a time when she felt protected in his arms. His presence used to come with a warm safety. Now, it came with a foreboding sense of danger, like stumbling upon a sleeping rattlesnake. If she was careful enough, she might get away without a fight. If she took one wrong step, all it would take was a mere second for the snake to strike.

“Things got bad after-” She stopped. She didn’t need to say anything else.

Sergei gave a solemn nod, “Yes. I can imagine. Sam was my good friend. He was an important, valuable member of our guild. It was hard for everyone.”

He was studying her face, trying to read every micro expression she held, but she kept her features stiff. She should have left sooner. Maybe if she hadn't spent so much time doting on Kedi, she would have escaped before Sergei arrived. She wished she was already back with Peter and wondered how long he would stay in her trailer before he started to wonder if she’d ever return.

“Who’s Peter?” Sergei asked with an air of innocence, as if he had directly read her mind, but kept a close eye on how she responded. He was carefully studying her every move.

Aylin’s eyes widened in shock for only a split second before she softened her face but there was no doubt that Sergei had caught it. Had he read her mind? There was no other way he could possibly know about Peter…was there? Her stomach churned with nerves at the question but she raised her eyebrows in feigned confusion, “What do you mean?”

He shifted on his throne, leaning towards her, and placing his arm on the table, “When I came to pick you up, I heard you say ‘I don’t think Peter would mind the extra company.’ So, who’s Peter?”

That’s what she got for speaking out loud to a cat. She should have kept her mouth shut.

“He’s my friend,” she lied, thinking on her feet. “Works at the gas station a few miles out. He works nights. I’ve met him a few times and we got to talking. He enjoys hiking as much as me. He was planning a trip of his own so I invited him on mine. I thought we could both use the company.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Sergei’s tone was light but his tense shoulders gave off the impression of a possessive, jealous lover. Aylin was beginning to see him as an overgrown child who refused to share his toys with others. She felt like she was nothing more than his property.

She repressed a gulp, refusing to let her eyes wander from his, “No. He’s a friend.”

He ignored her statement. “After Leah Rivera, I thought you might not be not interested in men. It’s good to know you appreciate both sides,” Sergei leaned back to give off the illusion of someone who was casually lounging instead of someone fishing for information. They were both playing a difficult game of chess, each crafting their next move, while simultaneously trying to find their opponents weakness to exploit. “Cal swings both ways, too.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just someone who enjoys hiking as much as me,” Aylin’s jaw tightened, giving him a stiff reply. She desperately hoped the heat burning behind her cheeks wasn’t outwardly noticeable. Her racing heart spiked at the mention of Leah. That was a name she hadn’t heard spoken aloud in years. “I don’t swing any way. Leah was nothing more than a friend, too.”

Liar. Leah was more than a friend. She was Aylin’s childhood best friend, her favorite person, her first crush, her first love. Leah used to be her everything.

Until she was nothing.

“Right, right,” he chuckled. “Cal and I were just friends once. I get it. But, Aylin, you know how this guild feels about outsiders. You can not trust them. It’s best you let that friendship drift away before it’s too late. I don’t want you going on a trip with that boy. It’s too dangerous. Cancel it. Stop seeing him. There’s more than enough eligible men here for you to attach yourself to. I can think of at least three off the top of my head who would love a chance. Stay within the guild.”

She had tried to stay within the guild until Sergei caught on about her and Leah’s relationship. She remembered his eyes flaring with hatred when he saw them share a quick kiss behind the school house one afternoon. Neither of the girls could understand why he would care what a couple of sixteen year olds got up to. It wasn’t long after that Leah’s entire family disappeared in the middle of the night. One day they were there, the next they were gone. Banished. No explanations given. No goodbyes said. Their empty house was demolished, as per tradition, whenever someone leaves the guild. Erase everything and build back up from scratch without the tainted memories. They were to never speak about the Rivera’s again. Every ounce of Leah’s existence in Aylin’s life was gone overnight until it was almost as if she never existed at all. If it wasn’t for the pictures hidden in a shoebox in the back of her closet, sometime’s Aylin might wonder if she dreamed up the entire thing. First, her best friend disappeared, then, her father and brother were slaughtered by wolves. Sixteen had not been kind to her.

But that was years ago. Leah was gone and so was the person Aylin used to be. She didn’t want Peter to become another pained memory added to the ever growing pile of forgotten people. She would protect this one. She wouldn’t let him be another soul for Sergei to steal from her.

Even if that made her a traitor.

She fixed a pleasant smile onto her face, “You’re probably right. I don’t know him that well anyway. I was just looking for a hiking buddy. Not a big deal and I’d better be safe than sorry. You never really know what those outsiders are like. Although, I do think I would be able to overtake him if it ever came to that. I’ve taken down werewolves. I think I can manage to get the upper hand on a random gas station employee. You’ve trained us well.” She threw Sergie her best attempt at a cheeky wink despite the anxious tightening of her throat. Her desperation for him to believe her was suffocating.

Outsiders. Traitors. Banishment.

Maybe Peter was right. She might be in a cult.

The truth hit her hard. She forced a smile onto her face despite wanting to slide under the table and crawl away.

Canceling fake plans with an imaginary boyfriend was easier than the truth of her deception. Outsider Peter was better than Werewolf Peter. One was a simple mistake at the hands of a lovestruck young woman. The other was direct treason against everything she ever knew.

He didn’t look impressed with her response.

Earthy, herbal smells wafted out from the kitchen door. She caught notes of lavender and chamomile mixed with some kind of sharp spice she was unfamiliar with. Sergei noticed her analyzing the scent.

“It’s not something we grow here in the mountains,” he remarked, blatantly ignoring her attempts to butter him up. “Calypso has family in Haiti. They send her all sorts of home grown products she can’t get here. She likes to think of herself as a bit of an alchemist when she’s in the kitchen. She makes the most wonderful tea. You’ll love it.”

As if on cue, Calypso burst through the doorway with a tray in hand. A clear teapot was placed on the table in front of them. Bits of loose herbs floated around inside the amber liquid. Skinny, swirling trails of hypnotizing white steam rose from the spout. She lifted the pot to pour out the delicious smelling tea into the delicate china cups. Aylin was handed the first one.

“For our guest,” Calypso smirked. “Made with love.”

Aylin ignored the snarky edge to her words and gave a polite smile. She took a small sip, happy for the distraction. It burned her tongue but slid smoothly down her throat. It was like nothing she’d ever had before. Warm and cozy with a sharp tang of spice as a lingering aftertaste. She took another big gulp as it gave her something to do with her fidgety hands.

Calypso perched on the thick arm of Sergei’s throne as she watched her guest drink, “How is it?”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you,” she feigned a smile. She wasn’t lying. It was delicious. She just struggled to make her voice sound genuine when her and Peter’s lives hung on her every word.

“Pleased to hear it.”

Sergei patted his wife’s thigh, “Aylin was just telling me about her gas station boyfriend. An outsider. They’re already planning a trip together.”

Calypso leaned against him, running her fingers through his hair, “A gas station boyfriend? Even she can do better than that.”

“He’s not my bo-” She was cut off by Sergei.

“I already told her that it would be best to let that relationship fade away. I think we could find her someone better. One of us. I would be doing Sam a disservice if I let his daughter run away with an outsider.”

Aylin bit her tongue and refused to mention that her mother was once an outsider. The longer they stayed on the topic of her lie, the more anxious she became. She didn’t want to have to keep thinking on her feet. It was exhausting her psyche.

“I said I would. It’s not a big deal,” she huffed, taking another sip of her tea. “He means nothing to me. I just thought it might be fun to have someone to hike with but I prefer being on my own anyway.”

Calypso smirked, “That’s what I like to hear. Outsiders are nothing. They don’t deserve your time of day. You have everything you need right here.” She shifted her body to lean forward, her deep brown eyes penetrating into Aylin’s very soul. “We’re all you need.”

She was most definitely in a cult. How could she have ever been so oblivious?

She might be the stupidest person alive.

This would be her downfall. The people she loved and fought to protect were the one’s holding the knife. They would be the ones to fatally stab her. Not the Lycans.

Before the realization could overtake her, Calypso’s loose robe had fallen open when she moved and her right breast had pushed its way out from the silky material. The sight of the woman’s freshly exposed skin caused her spiraling mind to halt. Sergei’s arm wrapped around his wife to grasp onto her breast, absentmindedly flicking her dark nipple with his thumb, as they both stared in her direction. Aylin’s ears heated up with a mixture of disbelief and horrific embarrassment. She quickly averted her gaze to the table. She got uncomfortable watching people kiss in public. Watching someone blatantly fondle his wife in front of her made her want to claw out of her own skin. They had always been overly affectionate with each other but it had never been as in her face as it was now. This was different. New. It was like they were challenging her. Like this was some kind of sick test she’d have to pass. From the moment Sergei showed up behind her, she was being tested. Her every move was stuck under a microscope and picked apart with a watchful eye.

These were not the people she once thought they were.

A new found hatred wrapped around her like a warm blanket. They were toying with her. Teasing her. Playing with her. They were getting off on watching her squirm. They liked this.

This was who they really were.

Aylin focused on her tea to keep herself distracted. She heard Calypso stifle a laugh under her breath. They were getting off on her discomfort. Her head was starting to feel dizzy and her heart felt like it was pounding in her ears. She suddenly felt very sweaty like there was a fire igniting in her stomach and spreading up her chest towards her throat. She hated them. That much was clear to her now. The guild was not a safe place. It never was. It had only felt that way because she was drinking the Kool Aid along with everyone else just like Peter said. Her whole life she had been fed a lie which she happily lapped down. Her world was crumbling down around her. Piece by piece it fell with deafening crashes and she was beginning to suffocate on the smokey rubble filling her lungs.

A headache was rapidly growing and her vision blurred for a millisecond before she blinked it back into focus.

“Ms. Aylin was just about to tell me what happened last night,” Sergei spoke, still massaging Calypso without any hint of embarrassment. His tone had flipped, losing the fake lightheartedness from earlier. He was serious. There was no more time for games. “She was going to explain exactly why she refused to kill a wolf in front of her entire guild.”

She was?

“For someone who claims to have killed two on her own, without any proof, you’d think a malnourished, caged bitch would be easy,” Calypso remarked. “It sounds to me like there might be a little white lie hiding somewhere in your story, dear girl. Don’t worry, darling, you can tell us. We won’t judge. We just want the truth.”

She took another sip of the tea to avoid having to answer them right away. Was she the only one drinking? Neither of them had touched the stuff.

Aylin didn’t want to look in their direction to check. She didn't want to watch what they were doing. They were making her uncomfortable on purpose. A power play. A way to prove that she was nothing but inferior to them. She didn’t want to be here. Her head felt like it was swimming with a million thoughts but none of them were making it to her lips. Her body was refusing to function. She couldn’t make her mouth and brain work as one.

“I, uh,” she stuttered over her words. “I…”

Her mind was starting to feel like it was slowly filling with sand. An hourglass at the verge of tipping. Her mouth felt dry so she downed the rest of her cup.

“That girl- she…she…was just…so…so young…” Aylin gave a slow blink, her chin bobbing down to her chest before quickly steadying her head back upright. “I…feel…”

She was suddenly exhausted. The empty tea cup slipped from her hand to shatter into pieces across the floor. She finally turned her attention to the couple, fearing that she was coming down with an illness. She was seeing double. Their forms wavered like rain in a puddle.

“Something’s not right,” she whispered.

“That would be the tea,” Sergei spoke, his voice steady. “Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll be fine.”

He pushed himself up from his throne to walk over to her. Aylin slumped into his arms, feeling paralyzed, as he easily lifted her to his chest. He cradled her there while he moved through his house, each room flashing slowly before her lagging eyes, until he stopped in front of a large bookcase.

“Wha-” she tried to speak but words were useless to her.

Sergei kicked his foot at something hidden against the side of the bookcase, tucked away from view, where the wall meets the floor.

With a low grumble, the bookcase slid slowly to the right to reveal a set of wooden steps leading underground. They creaked underfoot as he carried deeper into the abyss.

The musty smell of mildew and copper hit her nose.

“No…” Aylin managed to whisper, in a last ditch effort to protect herself before the drugs completely captured her mind.

“Sleep now,” Calypso purred over Sergei’s shoulder. “We have some important business to discuss. You’ll need your strength. Shh, drift off, little one. We’ll keep watch over you. Sleep.”

[CHAPTER FIVE (part two)]

Tag List Requirements: 🌒A reblog of this chapter will automatically put you onto the next chapter tag list. If you no longer wish to be put on the next list, simply don't reblog this chapter.🌔

Tag List: @theorgansarerotting @lxinesux @lazyxsquirrel @sincericida @pfannkuchen07 @amethyst-silk @thisloserlovespeterparker @its-crystalli @moonyslove78 @liz-allyn @dreamsarecloserwithyou @fav-fanficssss

A/N: Please remember that writers love to listen to every tiny, little thought you've had about their work. If you liked a certain line or enjoyed a particular part, let us know! We're desperate attention whores who crave your feedback. It's what keep us writing. It makes us happy and feel appreciated for sharing our work.

#andrew garfield #peter parker #tasm #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #the amazing spiderman #spiderman #peter parker fic #tasm fic #tasm au #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker au #tasm peter fic #tasm peter parker au #creature like me #creature like me chapter five #blooming violets #blooming violets fic

38 notes · View notes

guybitesatgames · 7 months

Text

TMAGP 08 - They Already Named One "The Architecture of Fear"

Okay so obviously everyone is going to go bananas about what happened after the 19 minute mark (its me, I'm everyone, my response was undignified). However, Alex's tweet put me on high alert so lets dig our claws into some incredibly specific inclusions from just the case section of today's episode.

There have always been nods to real-life locations and historical figures across the Magnus-series, but this episode is particularly grounded. The case takes place here-

-Forton services - a service station that still exists, I assume entirely thanks to its listed status. It's a semi-historical site, which means lots of pictures have been taken of it, including its interior. Behold, the restaurant Terrance Stevens was sucked into, both (likely) the version he saw vs. what he should have expected at the top of the elevator:

I've not been to this place, but it is highly documented. I was able to find out that, just as it is in the show, the button for the restaurant floor has been disabled (unless you have the manufacturer's key). In fact, I think I might have found the exact website as whoever was doing research for this episode (Alex?) because they both mention seating for "700 people, with 101 toilets and 403 parking spaces".

And Terrance Stevens was doing such a good job with his sources up until this point! And I mean that - early in the case he cites (Zumthor, P. 2006), (Augé, M. 1995), (Bachelard, G. 1994) and (Trigg, D. 2012). Now, it'd be super easy for a writer to make up some names and append some years on them and call it a day but- no! Peter Zumthor's lecture Atmospheres: Architectural Environments, Surrounding Objects was published in 2006. We can similarly find Non-Places by Marc Augé, The Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard (reprinted in 1994), and The Memory of Place: A Phenomenology of the Uncanny by Dylan Trigg.

Given the emphasis on Smirke's architecture in The Magnus Archives (and the preponderance of liminal spaces as a source of horror, generally) I shouldn't be surprised that the authors have read up on academic papers linking structures to emotions. I was just a little blindsided that they would hand us a "further reading" section.

The real question at the end of all this is: will any of this be on the quiz?

Surely, surely if the writers wanted to be so precise as to get information about which elevator buttons are currently accessible in a real life truck stop correct, there must be something important about Forton services, right? Thankfully, we have an answer, from the Q&A for The Magnus Archives Season 3.

Well done, I am slightly worried.

Though the details of specific locations may not really really matter, I think the idea that there are nexuses of fear - places that themselves just aren't right - was laid out quite plainly in this episode. Forton services could harbor another gap in reality much like Hilltop Road, and I don't think this will be the last we hear of "hungry architecture."

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #long post

33 notes · View notes

ginsengkittensecondary · 7 months

Text

I HAVE MOVED TO MY MAIN. PLEASE FOLLOW GINSENGKITTEN FOR UPDATES. STORY WILL CONTINUE THERE. <3

༺Beautiful Dangerous༻

a slashxreader fanfiction

༺☆༻

Chapter Two:

A snake & a lighter

Word count approx: 1700

☆Track list☆

Lullaby - The Cure

Talk Show Host - RadioHead

A Large python is inching its way towards the door of your bedroom. It's dark in your room, it must be night, you think? Moonlight drowns the room and the shadows of the rain sprinkle down your floral wallpaper. It feels familiar. The makeup bottles on your white dresser. Your denim jacket on its regular hook. Your stuffed animals preciously lined against your floor. School photos of you in miscellaneous academics adorned the wall. The snake continues, this dangerous animal making its way into your room. You see yourself asleep in your own bed like watching some sort of demented film. You want to alert yourself of the impending danger. The snake reaches the foot of your bed and you feel your muscles strain. You try to scream to yourself "WAKE UP! WAKE UP ITS GOING TO GET YOU!" but no noise seems to come out. You feel breathless. The snake slowly climbs onto your bed, paving it's large body through your comforter. You watch it approach your helpless body. You watch, terrified as the snake begins to hug around your body. You feel the tension of the snake starting to tighten harder and harder. It's getting difficult to breathe when some sort of...heat fills your chest. you feel your chest raising and deflating with hot electricity. This same feeling you had felt a week ago at the records store. When that..guy..stared into your soul like a lion to a lamb. Suddenly you surrender to it all. You want this. The fear and the heat entangle you as you fade into darkness. Wake up,wake up, wake up.

"Wake Up Y/N!" Daisy's voice echos into your consciousness. You snap awake with a gasp. Daisy is timidly sat at the edge of your bed, a look of concern on her face. "Y/N, I think you were having a nightmare." She says softly. The morning light blisters the bed through the white curtains of the guest bedroom. Your eyes squint as you come to. You feel your heart beat slowing. "You're all sweaty" she laughs slightly as if to mend the awkward awakening with humor. "Oh..." You sit up in a daze, sleepily rubbing your eyes. "What a terrible way to wake up on your birthday!" Daisy laughs louder now, she skips to the window and excitedly strings the curtains open. "My god!" You laugh and practically hiss at the light like a vampire. The light shocks you fully awake probably as Daisy intended. She did not take lightly to birthdays. Your 18th birthday. Wow what a milestone. How weird. I don't feel so different, am I supposed to feel-adultish? You thought to yourself as you accustom yourself to being awake. "My little baby ain't a baby no more!" Daisy cooed in a semi false sad, motherly tone as she embraced you in your sweaty pajamas. Daisy had turned 18 in February and was older by just a little. But she was more experienced in just about everything and sometimes felt like an older sister. You spent your birthday each year at Daisy's as it fell in June, right as you were on your regularly scheduled summer stay. You had started being sent away during the summers as mother and daddy chose to work full time during the summers as it was the busiest season for their line of work. At least that's what they tell you. The true reason was, as their only daughter, they took no chances of you getting into trouble or mischief like the rest of the teenagers in your town would during summer. The number of teen pregnancies that occurred the summer you turned 12 shocked your parents so intensely that they opted to ship you away entirely to the safe haven that is....Hollywood...and up until now it's worked it's job with only few instances of mischief under Daisy's wing. And yet this new feeling of yearning gnawed at you. It began the day you had listened to the Aerosmith album. The inner yearning for something more. Something new.

You sit in a trance at the dining table. Your breakfast untouched before you. Your apetite escapes you as you recount the nightmare in your head. Snakes. You've never really feared snakes. You haven't even seen one recently that would provoke such a fright. You recall on the warmth of emotion that overtook you in the dream. Almost a pleasurable sensation? Fear and Pleasure. You felt torn from feeling such intense emotions simultaneously. Confused at where this came from, some unidentifiable sense of impending doom ate away at you. Aunt Shena had prepared a gorgeous spread in honor of your birthday. She was religiously intense but her heart meant good always. She was present when she could be but could often be found hypocritically passed out from her anti anxieties or shopping uncle Robs salary away. Again, she meant well.

"Now girls." Aunt Shena excused herself from the table, dabbing non existent remnants of her uneaten food from the corners of her lipsticked mouth. "While I'd love to stay and join in on the festivities, I've got to get to a very important meeting with the crochet group for a fundraiser. I know you've only just turned 18, Y/N, but I thought it might be nice to go to the beach or a night showing at the movies?" Aunt shena primped her hair in the hallway mirror. "Just don't-" she paused and smiled at us both. "Don't tell your uncle Rob I've let you out so soon unsupervised. He doesn't need to know. There's some allowance upstairs on my dresser." She said hurried. She always made sure she looked so....very nice..for her crochet group. Very nice. It made you wonder at times but not enough to pry. Not your business what goes on at crochet. Plus if it took her off your backs whatever it was was very much so none of your business. For a bible thumping hills wife, Aunt Shena sure seemed to have her own unholier-than-thou activities. Again-not your business.

"And Daisy-" she turned and gave her a pleading look." Please...just take the jeep this time." Daisy and you exchange looks. Did she know about the Pontiac? Nevertheless, for a woman of god she seemed less than uninterested in consequence or punishment of Daisy's wrongdoings. Which seemed to make Daisy want to get into even more mischief. Daisy nodded in agreement, accepting her stern reprimanding from her all attentive mother.

The sun scorched across the water. A slight breeze gave occasional relief. You lay on your stomach and mindlessly draw circles in the sand. Just absorbing the ocean ebbing and flowing in blue and white hues. The seagulls crying out. The distant screams of people joyfully splashing in the water. Your mind couldn't help but revisit the dream once more. But every time you did, you couldn't help but revisit the record store in your mind. That guy. He hadn't left your mind since. Had you left his? Was it as electrifying for him as it was for you? No man had ever taken such residence of your mind before, not like this. You try to recall his features from memory. The gruff stature, and wild, beautiful curls that fell perfectly around his face. His face, that smile. That smile that was so sweet it was almost maddening. The way his pouted lips curved into that smirk. The way his hand felt over yours for that brief moment. His grip was strong and his fingers were fashioned with rings. One of them was a snake ring. The ring was a snake. That's where you saw the snake from, could it be? Such an intense dream from a simple ring on a finger? You couldn't help but believe that he had something to do with it. Somehow that interaction inspired that dream. He inspired that dream. What did it mean?

"So like I was saying Y/N" Daisy's voice intruding your thoughts. She flicked her lighter on the edge of her cigarette, lighting it into a steady stream of smoke. She held it to her lips and took a drag. A well seasoned drag at that. She motioned it to you but you politely shake your head no. "You remember that guy I met last week at tower records right?" Daisy continues. 'No' You think to yourself. "Yeah" you lie. To be honest, the entire car ride home that Daisy had spilled juicy details about her newest boyfriend, you had been busy thinking about your own mystery man who had wooed you at the cash register. "Well like I was saying, he and his friends have this band. I can't remember the name. 'Something Roses'. Anyways, they have a concert tonight and he said we'd get in for free. You down for a little birthday fun?" She gently pushes you with herself in a joking manner. A concert? You can't remember the last concert you'd even seen. It might have been the church family Christmas choir concert? That doesn't really count though. Daisy observes you thinking on it and offers a deal sweetener. "It's a rock band" she pushes again. Daisy knew all too well your developing fascination with rock music, and frankly the fading boundaries of which you once held yourself to. Over the years, the constant protection and coddling and bubble wrapping had worn on you. Something had been stirring violently within you over time. Sometimes it was like you felt as though you were born with a ticking time bomb in your heart. And the older you grew, the less time remained on the clock. All the walls, all the quiet submission, all the rules and the rhythms in which you kept your life stringent to, all felt like it could just take a single spark and you would ignite.

You suddenly feel a sense of overwhelming over-your-head bravery. You snatch the cigarette out of Daisy’s grasp and suck in an entirely too large inhale of smoke. You cough it all out immediately and laugh, as does Daisy-out of shock. A hilariously failed attempt to look badass in your moment of newfound bravery, but the smoke felt good as it burned your throat. You finally manage to choke out:

"Okay, let's go."

I HAVE MOVED TO MY MAIN. PLEASE FOLLOW GINSENGKITTEN FOR UPDATES. STORY WILL CONTINUE THERE. <3

#saul hudson #slash #slash gnr #gnr #saul hudson x reader #slash x reader #gnr x reader #gnr smut #slash smut #saul hudson imagine #slash imagine #slash hudson #slash fic #slash fanfiction #gnr fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

ofthecaravel · 1 year

Text

But You Look So Cool

A Danny Wagner/Sam Kiszka fic

Summary: Danny has a crush on a familiar face.

Tags: Fluff, cutesy bullshit, IDIOTS ALERT, literally just the stupidest goofuses alive, NSFW shit AHHHH

Words: 10.8k

A/N: Just trying to keep my Sanny girlies fed. Heavily inspired by Crush by Ethel Cain, everybody go listen to Ethel Cain right now or I will explode you with my mind

Let me know what you think!

~~~

Danny Wagner knew there was no shame in ditching the typical post high school route of moving across the country to start college. Well, maybe it was more like an affirmation he said to himself begrudgingly in the mirror after coming home from work and getting ready to go to class at the local community college. He’d escaped his parent’s house, not that there was anything bad to escape from, and now lived in a crappy one room apartment that he paid for by working a job that he liked an average amount. Every other day, Danny took classes at the community college. He couldn’t help but feel like he was wasting his early twenties saving money and starting small, even though he knew it was the smartest option for him, considering he wasn’t actually all that sure what he wanted to do with life. There weren’t a lot of things Danny was sure of about himself quite yet, but he had faith that it would all fall into place. It had to. Right?

Danny wasn’t sure when things would start to become clear to him, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be during any of his classes. This was an endurance part of his life, he had decided. Get them done, get the associate’s degree, and THEN go from there. He was taking a pretty low course load so he could keep up with work and, well, his sanity, and this was a September where he was taking a whopping two classes. They were both pretty basic, a math course and a history course, and he didn’t expect much from them apart from taking the occasional nap and scurrying to do all of his homework last minute like he’d done his entire academic career.

What Danny especially didn’t expect from his first day of classes was walking into his math classroom (only after double and triple checking he had the right room), taking a seat by the window, and then becoming acutely aware of the smell of cigarette smoke. As he dug his laptop and notebook out of his bag, he wrinkled his nose at the smell and prepared to meet whoever had drug this scent in with them. He could see someone had sat next to him while his neck was craned, and when he straightened, Danny looked to his right and was immediately seized by a cold jolt of surprise. The guy next to him was undoubtedly the smoker, but he was also undoubtedly someone Danny had gone to school with prior.

It was Sam, Sam Kiszka, Sam Kiszka who had been on the robotics team and favored shadowing his older brothers over cultivating a group of friends. Danny had known him with a shaggy emo haircut, braces, and an arsenal of class clown cracks. He’d ultimately lost track of Sam during senior year, when news broke of his dad’s arrest and Sam had shrunk moodily into the shadows while his brothers disappeared into college life and made their own name beyond crime and scandal.

Danny had a feeling that whole era of Sam’s life played a factor into the man he’d grown into. This new Sam sat slouched in a smoke soaked leather jacket with a ratty backpack and scowl playing on his face. It was weird to see him like this. Danny almost wanted to say something, but after Sam’s feline glare passed over him and quickly slid off, he decided not to. He was annoyingly aware of the effect it had on him, though. There was a nervous tremor in Danny’s hand as he opened up his laptop and logged in, staring at himself in the reflection of the dark loading screen and checking for eye boogers or frizz in a sudden attempt to smooth out his sleepy appearance.

The smoke smell was dizzying now in such close proximity, equal parts overwhelming and delicious. Danny breathed it in and, instead of letting out an almost longing sigh, he let out a huge sneeze. In doing so, he knocked his forehead against his keyboard and scooted backwards in his chair in the same motion. Red faced, he looked up and saw almost every eye in the previously quiet room trained on him. Someone called out a ‘bless you’ and he thanked them with an embarrassed smile, finally looking over to see Sam’s assessment. Danny felt his face go hot all over again when he saw Sam was side eyeing him with an amused smile. When they made eye contact, Sam quickly looked forward again and his smile crumpled. For some reason he couldn’t pin, Danny’s heart fluttered.

His mind started racing as his anxiety made him more and more aware of Sam’s presence and every little move. Did Sam remember him? What the hell had he been up to the past two years? Danny had heard rumors that Sam slipped in and out of the county jail since his dad had been sentenced to death row, unconsciously mirroring his family legacy in some sort of effort to cope. But as far as Danny knew, that was just hearsay. As the professor started the lecture and Danny started to focus, his last thought was that maybe he and Sam would grow to be friends over the course of the class.

Danny gave up on that hope after the third class. Even during icebreakers, Sam had barely spoken and seemed to daydream the entire class, taking bare bones notes and racing out the door the second the lecture finished. Still, Danny gave him well prepared smiles in the split seconds that Sam’s eyes would drift over him, considering that Danny’s eyes were now almost always on him. Danny himself was a little startled by how distracted he was by his silent classmate. They had exchanged zero words and yet Danny found himself driving up to the building with anxious butterflies as the days went on. He started fulfilling weird little compulsions he’d never felt before, like standing in front of the mirror messing with the way his hair fell, even though he always left it back in its wavy, brushed-out side part. Danny sat in class with his back straighter and his face hidden by his curtain of waves, using them as a cover to sneak glances at Sam’s frowning profile.

In such a tizzy, Danny had spent the time after a family dinner to corner his sister and ask her for a second opinion on why he was feeling so crazy. He had scoffed when she’d begun to laugh in his face, looking at him like he was the stupidest person alive.

“What, you asshole?” Danny asked, shoving Josie’s shoulder as she stifled her laugh with a hand and used the other to grip his shoulder in comradery.

“You idiot,” she giggled. “You’re not being possessed by the devil. You have a fucking crush.”

Danny flushed and laughed at the accusation, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, okay, sure, right,” Danny mocked, leaning against the doorframe of his sister’s room. “We’ve literally never spoken.”

“You don’t have to talk to someone to have a crush on them,” Josie explained.

Danny paused.

“You don’t?”

“No? What, is this your first year on Earth? Are you experiencing emotions for the first time?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Seriously! Have you never had a crush before?”

Danny thought about it.

“Yeah, in, like, high school,” Danny answered. “I had a girlfriend, thank you.”

“Oh, please, you only dated her because she wouldn’t leave you alone,” Josie accused with a creeping smile. “Sounds like this guy is giving you the real deal. Congratulations, welcome to feelings.”

“What do I even do about it?” Danny whined, sliding down the wood panel and sitting hard. “This shit sucks.”

“Ask him out!” Josie insisted, forming a little heart with her hands. “Follow your heart.”

“You’re a fucking cornball,” Danny countered. “I feel like I should probably talk to him minimum one time before I do that. I mean, I don’t even know if he’s…you know, whatever. Would even be into me.”

“Oh, I bet he’s totally into you,” Josie assured. “When you said he smiled at you after you sneezed? Totally into you.”

“You’re just feeding my delusion.”

“I’m making up for lost time you spent fake dating a weirdo in high school.”

“Yeah, this is some real sentimental bonding we’ve got going on right now.”

“Come on, you wimp,” Josie said, tossing a pillow at Danny’s head. “Do literally anything. Don’t let him be the one that got away.”

“You’re so dramatic, fuck,” Danny accused, but smiled. “Fine, okay, I’ll talk to him.”

Danny did not talk to him. Danny really did plan on talking to Sam during their next class, but when Danny pulled into a parking spot, he found himself next to Sam and his grungy motorcycle. Worse yet, it was one of September’s warmer mornings with a humidity left over from a storm the next before, which meant that Sam was shirtless and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He took off his helmet and shook his hair out, unaware of Danny’s jaw hitting the floor as he combed it through with one hand and dug a shirt out of his backpack. After allowing himself one more sidelong glance before he stumbled out of his car, Danny saw a scattering of tattoos on Sam’s wiry arms and hiding on his ribcage. The words died on Danny’s tongue and in his mind and he decided that maybe he’d wait another day, so he did. And then he waited for two more weeks after that, and even then, Danny couldn’t get himself to even breathe in Sam’s direction.

The only person keeping Danny accountable was Josie, and she regularly expressed her upset towards Danny’s lack of action. The siblings had a long standing tradition of raiding the convenience store by their house on Saturday evenings so they had a proper snack arsenal for movie night, and on the Saturday after the one month mark of Danny’s class starting, Josie followed him through the aisles and chastised him.

“Why do you even care so much?” Danny hissed at her as he absently looked through rows of crinkling bags of chips and pretzels.

“Because this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to you since you graduated, you nerd,” Josie answered, plucking a bag of chips out of his hand and breezing by. “Plus, it’d be fun to have someone to razz you with.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a kind and gentle soul? Because they were lying.”

Josie laughed and they both continued a steady bicker as they swept the aisles. They settled in the candy aisle for a heated debate on what the “mood” of their candy should be that night. Suddenly, a raucous round of hissing and popping started up outside and they both startled, looking towards the sound. It was the sound of firecrackers, and the owner let out a disgusted sigh and stormed out from behind the counter. He’d seen the Wagner siblings in his store since they were little, and since they were the only ones in there, he quickly told them to not steal anything and then ran out the doors to investigate. The two of them exchanged an amused look and started a joking dialogue about how much stuff they could fit in their pockets when the bell on the door jingled again. They quieted, thinking the owner was back so soon, but Danny felt the wind get knocked out of his lungs when he looked behind him into the next aisle and saw a familiar helmet. He mouthed ‘shit’ and turned around again, Josie quickly picking up on the nervous twitch in his features and looking for herself.

“What?” she whispered, almost inaudible, following Danny as he scooted into the next aisle over to put an aisle between them. Danny gave her a look, and then jerked his head at the man once before widening his eyes. Instantly, her mouth fell open and she started peeking over the top of the shelves to try and catch a glimpse at Sam’s face.

“No way!” she breathed again. “He rides a motorcycle? Hot!”

“Shut the entire fuck up,” Danny seethed, feeling a chill run down his spine when he heard Sam’s boots in the aisle behind them. He moved quickly, a rustle of bags and wrappers as he did. Danny and Josie stood very still when they felt Sam stride into the aisle they were in, exchanging a look and then respectively picking up a snack and examining their wrappers intently. Danny took a brave look over at Sam and saw him pick up a bag of Skittles and then pocket it brashly in the joking way he and his sister had pretended to. Danny blinked in surprise; maybe Sam really was the criminal people made him out to be. Hopefully shoplifting was the worst of his crimes.

Sam moved down the aisle towards them and looked up at Danny, the two of them exchanging a moment of tense eye contact before Sam’s dark eyes flickered over the Twix in Danny’s hands and then away again. Sam walked behind the two of them and then with a quiet ‘excuse me’, he reached his arm in front of Danny and plucked a Twix from the box. Danny stood frozen to the spot but leaned politely out of the way, trying to subtly stomp on Josie’s foot when she sneakily reached up and sank her nails into his forearm in a silent urge for Danny to say something.

However, Danny hardly got the chance to breathe before the owner walked back into the store with an annoyed huff, which caused Sam to startle and then hustle back past them and slip behind a display. Danny and Josie shared a confused look and tracked the top of Sam’s helmet as he sneaked around the perimeter of the store, clearly trying to make his way to the door without being seen. Unfortunately for Sam, they heard his boot knock loudly against a bottle and the owner looked up from his paper. His face immediately twisted into a fury.

“KISZKA!” he bellowed, slamming his paper onto the counter as Sam scurried down the first aisle and out the door, the bell banging loudly as the owner followed him out in a hurried jog. Danny and Josie quietly stood and watched the two men disappear around the corner in a flurry of yells.

“Well,” Josie finally said as they slowly approached the counter and started piling their stuff onto it for when the owner returned. “He seems really nice.”

“Shut up,” Danny muttered, knowing his face was thoroughly flushed from both nerves and embarrassment.

“No, really, I’m super excited for your prison biker wedding.”

“Shut up.”

On Monday, Danny was sitting at his table going over the Excel graphing exercise that had driven him nearly crazy the night prior when something was loudly dropped next to him. His reflexes were not as sharp from his lack of sleep and he jolted, calming when he saw what had been dropped on his notebook: a Twix. Danny immediately looked to his right and watched Sam fall into his seat, cracking his neck and unzipping his backpack like nothing had happened. Heart racing, Danny picked up the chocolate and caught Sam’s eye, holding it aloft with confusion crinkling his arched brows. Sam looked at the Twix like he was surprised to see it, sniffed absently and then reclined further in his chair.

“It’s a bribe,” Sam finally spoke, his light voice betraying his cool, edgy facade.

“Pardon?” Danny asked dumbly, trying not to stumble over his words.

“A bribe,” Sam repeated, looking at Danny like he was stupid. “It seems like you know what you’re doing in this class, right?”

“Barely,” Danny muttered, looking back at the admittedly correct graphs on his screen.

“That’s better than how I’m doing,” Sam scoffed, loudly dropping his laptop on his table and pulling a bulky thermos out of his backpack. “I figured a little bribe would help to make alliances.”

Danny looked back at the candy in his hand.

“You stole this.”

“So, what? You and your girlfriend were talking about stealing.”

“That was my sister,” Danny clarified with a curl of his lip. “We weren’t actually going to steal anything, it was just a dumb joke.”

“Well, aren’t you a perfect angel?” Sam sarcastically batted his lashes at Danny and then rolled his eyes, cracking his knuckles aggressively. Danny bristled at Sam’s attitude, even though a small part of him was thrilled by it.

“I don’t know how you think you make friends, but it’s not like this,” Danny snipped shakily, lifting his chin and looking back at his screen. He could feel Sam staring at him as he pretended to care about his homework.

“You’re Danny, yeah?” Sam asked casually after a minute.

“Yeah.”

“I remember you from high school.”

Danny hesitated and met Sam’s eye again. Sam smiled, knowing he had Danny’s attention.

“I didn’t do much in high school,” Danny laughed awkwardly, a little incredulous that Sam would’ve paid any kind of attention to him back then. Danny had friends, sure, but he coasted through classes and invested most of his time with the golfing team, playing video games and banging on the drumset in the basement. He and Sam had mutual friends but had never run in the same circles.

“I remember you anyways,” Sam went on, picking at the skin of his thumb. “You weren’t the type of person to pass up the chance to help out. And I bet that hasn’t changed much. So, you know, if you could help me with an assignment or two, that’d be sick. Plus, I’d make it worth your while.”

“Will I continue to be paid in Twix?”Danny joked, flushing at Sam’s surprising comprehension of Danny’s character. Sam laughed, a sharp noise that sent chills down Danny’s spine.

“You’re fucking funny, dude,” Sam grinned. “If that’s what you want, but I can get you whatever you need. Pick your poison.”

“Poison?” Danny echoed, blinking blankly. Sam’s eyes softened slightly as he realized Danny wasn’t picking up on what he was putting down. He looked almost endeared.

“Yeah, man,” Sam continued, his voice lowering as he leaned towards Danny. “Dope, coke. If that’s not your vibe, I’ll buy you a stupid six pack or roll you a blunt.”

“If I help you do your homework, you’re going to give me coke?” Danny hissed, leaning in as well. “You’re going from Twix to cocaine for trigonometry?”

“I have to graduate,” Sam hissed back, his voice urgent. “Not graduating is not an option for me. I’ve already flunked a class once and if I fail again my family will-”

Sam cut himself off with a groan and flopped dramatically back into his seat, crossing his arms and stretching his legs out.

“Forget it,” Sam snapped, color rising to his cheeks as he let out a huff. “Forget everything I said. I’m fine, it’s fine.”

Danny paused as he watched Sam shift in his seat, his eyes clouding over as he stared down at his lap. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought that Sam might be starting to tear up.

“Hey, man, I’ll help you,” Danny relented, his heart nearly hammering out of his chest as he said it. “Don’t worry about paying me back or anything, though. Actually, I’m more motivated to help you if you promise NOT to give me drugs.”

Sam stared silently at him for a moment, clearly waiting for Danny to pull the rug out from under him and tell him he was only joking. But Danny was sincere in his promise, and Sam’s tense shoulders loosened slightly.

“Cool,” Sam said quietly, nodding once. “Are you busy after class?”

Danny was supposed to have lunch with a friend, but in a split second he decided to cancel.

“No,” Danny answered quickly.

“Wanna go to the library and, I don’t know, you tell me what the fuck is happening in this unit?” Sam suggested, his voice lowering as he got to the end of his sentence. Danny couldn’t help but let a painfully endeared smile cross over his face as he pretended to think for a second and then nodded.

“Yeah, that works,” Danny agreed casually and Sam mirrored his nodding.

“Sweet.”

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other for a moment, letting a few awkward beats pass before Sam cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his thermos. Danny watched him unscrew the chunky lid and take a deep sip, causing Sam to visibly hold back a wince as his eye twitched and he screwed the lid back on. He looked back at Danny, who was regarding him with another look of surprise.

“What?” Sam whispered.

“Dude,” Danny said simply, unsure whether to be concerned or to laugh.

“Shut up,” Sam replied, narrowing his eyes like an angry cat.

“It’s 9am,” Danny went on, a giggle at the end of his words.

“Shut up,” Sam repeated.

The professor got out of her seat and turned on her computer, signaling the beginning of class, and both of them fell silent as the lecture flashed on the projection screen. Danny decided to try and sneak one more look at Sam before he tuned in completely, allowing himself to relish in the anticipation that they were going to be spending the afternoon together. When he looked, he saw Sam was looking back at him, and they both turned away quickly and didn’t make eye contact for the rest of the class.

After an admittedly awkward walk to the library, Danny very quickly learned the extent of just what kind of student Sam was. His eyes wandered, his questions branched into a myriad of tangents, and oftentimes his conclusions made no sense. A particularly hard problem had Danny making Sam slowly backtrack his process to how he arrived at his answer, which made Danny even more confused and further infuriated Sam as he was reminded of how lost he was.

And yet, Danny was exceedingly patient with him. When the light outside started to fade and they gave up on making any more progress, Sam seemed genuinely shocked that Danny had stuck around as long as he had. Sure, when he got home that night Danny gave an extra little scream into his pillow from how hard he had fought Sam to try and help him understand the unit they were on, but Danny really hadn’t minded getting to spend some actual one on one time with Sam. Between tense discussion and slow calculations, Danny had actually had a lot of fun.

Danny finally admitted to himself that he was completely and totally screwed after the next couple of study sessions with Sam. The issue was that not only was Sam even hotter up close, but that he and Danny got along famously. When he wasn’t cussing out his textbook (or Danny, on occasion) or staring off into space, Sam was funny and quick witted and a surprisingly good listener. He had this habit of cradling his jaw with both hands while staring wide eyed at Danny and the textbook he was working off of, nodding occasionally and scribbling down Danny’s process with his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth.

“You’re really getting it now, man,” Danny said proudly one afternoon, watching Sam’s flimsy mechanical pencil work its way down his notebook page as he linked together a probability.

“Maybe a little,” Sam mumbled, flipping a page to check the answer sheet.

“Seriously, you’ve made hella progress,” Danny went on, motioning at Sam’s paper with his own pencil. “You don’t even need the cheat sheet, I know that’s right.”

“Still gonna check,” Sam insisted, seeming to shrink under Danny’s praise. Danny frowned, watching Sam grow somber in the way he always did when he scoured his homework for problems. Normally, Danny just let him take his quiet pause, but this time he felt himself saying something before he could stop himself.

“You know that you’re smart, right?”

Sam looked up quickly, looking almost disgusted by Danny’s compliment.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam mocked, crinkling his nose.

“You are,” Danny continued. “You were smart in high school, too. I mean, you did robotics and debate and stuff, right? You’ve gotta be clever to do all that.”

Sam blinked, his look shifting from unbelieving to almost shy.

“You remember all that?” Sam asked, his voice oddly soft. Danny felt his face flush.

“Uh, well, yeah,” Danny stammered slightly, shrugging like it was nothing. “I noticed lots of stuff in high school. It was a lot more fun than doing my own stuff, I guess.”

“You did cool stuff, too,” Sam said hesitantly, looking back at his page. “Golf is…cool.”

“No, it’s not,” Danny laughed, and a smirk slipped onto Sam’s face.

“Nah, it’s really not,” Sam agreed, the smirk growing to a cheeky grin. “You know what I mean. You were a cool person.”

“Oh, am I not cool anymore?” Danny teased, basking in the realization that at least once, Sam had thought about him back then.

“You’re still cool,” Sam smiled, his eyes boring into Danny’s own as Danny’s smile grew wide and dopey.

“Cool,” Danny replied dumbly, seeing Sam’s eyebrow raise in his peripheral vision as he pretended to start on another question.

“Not good with compliments either, huh?” Sam accused lightheartedly.

“I guess I just don’t get them that much,” Danny answered honestly. Sam immediately let out a sharp, one note laugh that earned him a dirty look from the librarian and a confused smile from Danny.

“What?” Danny asked. Sam looked him up and down once with an amused smile, but once he realized Danny had absolutely no clue what he found so ridiculous, his smile quickly died.

“Nothing, whatever,” Sam backtracked, letting out another much quieter laugh as if to make up for the brashness of the first one.

“Nuh uh, tell me,” Danny insisted, quickly swiping Sam’s paper out from under his hand and holding it hostage under his forearm. “What’s so funny, funny guy?”

“Nothing!” Sam doubled down, his usually edgy tone taking on a brand new whining quality as he tried to yank his paper back. The annoyed knit of Sam’s eyebrows gave Danny a small thrill he didn’t quite understand.

“You tell me why you laughed or I eat this fucking piece of paper.”

“Oh, I would actually love to see that, go right ahead.”

“Come on, Sam, tell me,” Danny all but begged. “Why is it so damn funny I don’t get compliments on the reg?”

Sam still refused to meet his eye, half heartedly trying to slide the paper out from under Danny’s arm with his fingertips gripping furiously.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s just weird considering you look, you know…” Sam trailed off, his tan cheeks rosy as he stumbled to his point. “Looking the way you do, I’d think maybe you’d be fending ‘em off ‘on the reg’. Your words, not mine.”

Danny blinked, still vaguely lost.

“Looking the way I do?” Danny echoed slowly, and Sam rolled his eyes. Danny looked down at himself, trying to decipher whatever Sam was getting at. “Is there a big sweater crowd here that I was unaware of, or…?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sam mumbled, finally pushing Danny’s arm back with one hand and grabbing his paper with the other. “Nevermind.”

Danny spent the rest of the night trying to understand just what Sam had been telling him, but it didn’t hit him until that last second before he finally fell asleep. Danny had sat up abruptly when the thought settled on him, his adrenaline jerking him upwards like a puppet so hard that his knee collided with his cheek. He fell back onto his pillow with a prolonged groan, pressing the heel of his palm to his sore cheek, feeling his blood pulse as he blinked up at the ceiling with the realization spinning in his head: Sam thought he was attractive. And he had said it right to Danny’s face without him knowing. As he began to drift off again, Danny thought he might be the stupidest man alive.

Danny certainly felt like one when the next time he saw Sam, he approached him with sheepish energy and a big, tender bruise on the plane of his cheek under his right eye. Sam’s mouth fell open and he immediately reached up to touch Danny’s face, his fingers softly grazing over the bruise as his dark eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam asked, his eyes suddenly lighting up as a snarky comment generated in his head. “Oh my god, did you get in a fight?”

Danny, realizing there was no way he could explain the true nature of his injury without sounding like an utter idiot, quickly nodded in agreement and tried to look remorseful. Sam’s mouth fell open again. The sparkle in his eye paired with his ability to be so quick to believe made Danny’s stomach flutter in adoration.

“Yeah, no biggie,” Danny said coolly as he slid into his seat, shrugging off his bag as Sam landed on his seat harshly, his eyes still stuck to Danny’s face.

“Who did you fight?” Sam gasped. “Did you fight a cop? Oh, please say yes.”

“Yep, you know me, big cop fighter,” Danny agreed, sarcasm edging his voice as he shot Sam a sly smile. Sam slumped in his seat as he began to scowl.

“Oh, fuck you, don’t lie to me,” Sam pouted, crossing his leather clad arms. “Seriously, what’s with the bruise?”

“It’s stupid, I’m fine,” Danny laughed.

“Do we have to cancel midterms studying later?” Sam asked, looking concerned. Maybe even disappointed. “I don’t wanna, I don’t know.”

“Are you worried I’m going to strain my small bruise too much?” Danny teased, butterflies fluttering again at Sam’s genuine worry about his well being.

“I don’t know!” Sam spluttered. “I want to make sure my teacher isn’t being held back from teaching me.”

“Sure, sure,” Danny smiled, finding a random surge of confidence and channeling it by mocking one of the first things Sam had said to him. “Aren’t you just a perfect angel?”

Sam immediately fell silent, rolling his eyes deeply and lolling back into his seat, turning away from Danny for a moment before flopping his head back towards Danny.

“Maybe I am,” Sam joked, giving Daniel a theatrical wink before scoffing and shaking his head, reacting so heavily that Danny figured that he must’ve been genuinely flustered by Danny’s accusation. It was hitting him again now, that Sam might actually like him back. It still felt like a reach, but Danny let the satisfaction of the possibility straighten his spine confidently while Sam continued to sputter.

By the time midterms had come and gone, Danny was beginning to become actually convinced he might have a shot with Sam. A lot of this was attributed to Sam suddenly and consistently indulging in a habit Danny was well acquainted with: kleptomania.

“Sam, you have got to stop,” Danny said defeatedly after Sam dropped yet another grocery bag of snacks on the table in front of Danny before collapsing in the booth across from him. This study session was at a coffee shop, which Danny thought might deter Sam from his now expected habit of bringing Danny bags of treats and the occasional other small, random items.

“Why? It’s funny,” Sam insisted as he did every time Danny questioned why the hell he was doing this. “Come on, laugh.”

“I am not laughing, thank you very much,” Danny said haughtily, sifting through the bag with two fingers. “Aw, come on, there’s even more than last time. Those poor store owners you’re robbing are going to start to notice, you know.”

“Whatever, as if they could prove it was me,” Sam scoffed with pride, cracking his neck cockily.

“Security cams, Sams,” Danny remarked, tying the handles of the bag together. “Seriously, it’s just not worth the risk. I don’t know why you think I’m so desperately in need of a couple hundred granola bars.”

“Totally worth the risk,” Sam argued. “I have a great time doing it, and then you have a great time not starving.”

“Why would I be starving?”

“You said you barely even eat during the days you work. Boom, problem solved, shut up and eat your damn fruit snacks.”

Danny’s heart suddenly began to slam against his ribs as the feelings that accompanied Sam’s shockingly sweet intentions jolted every nerve ending in Danny’s body.

“You started being a full blown klepto because…you didn’t want me to be hungry?”

“So?” Sam’s voice was sharp and defensive, but when Danny blinked at him, he saw Sam’s eyes soften for a fraction of a second and he knew.

“It’s just…actually very nice of you,” Danny said, his voice petering out slightly at the end of his sentence. “Now I kinda feel like a dickhead for yelling at you. Even though I still don’t think you should steal.”

“I accept your apology,” Sam answered jokingly. “So, which homework are we going over today?”

“Oh, we actually don’t have anything due on Friday,” Danny said. “I’m slightly concerned you don’t remember her saying that, but, yeah, we don’t technically don’t have to work on anything.”

“Oh,” Sam said simply, tensing and then relaxing in the same second. “So, we’re just…like, hanging out?”

“I guess,” Danny replied, masking his nerves by taking a sip of his drink. “I mean, we can look ahead in the book. Or you can, like, go if you want.”

“No, no, it’s whatever,” Sam said hurriedly. “I mean, I already ordered a drink, so.”

“Yeah, I mean, then you gotta stay,” Danny teased, still a little surprised by his own ability to flirt so quickly lately. “Maybe we can even attempt a conversation without talking about trigonometry.”

“Sounds like pulling teeth,” Sam agreed, arching a dark brow in amusement. “I’m down.”

“Should I ask you how your day was?”

“Definitely not.”

“What about your childhood?”

Sam bristled but somehow twisted it into a weak smile.

“I don’t know, you were there for a good chunk of it,” Sam smiled, and Danny melted a little. “You weren’t super involved or anything, but you probably know the gist of it.”

“Mm, I guess,” Danny shrugged. “Not enough to know how you went from being such a nice little nerd to…wherever you are now.”

“Is there something wrong with me now?” Sam snapped, giving Danny the stink eye.

“No, no, but you’re definitely a lot different than you were 5 years ago,” Danny went on and Sam swallowed, his eyes traveling in the air next to Danny’s head uncomfortably.

“True,” Sam agreed sullenly.

“I didn’t mean to, I don’t know, drag up anything,” Danny said nervously, taking note of the dark cloud settling over Sam’s head. “Just making conversation. I mean, I admit I am curious, but you can change the subject.”

“It’s…fine,” Sam sighed, shifting in his seat and finally taking off his jacket as he talked. “I mean, you know all the shit that went down with my family. I guess it’s just kind of a weird thing for an angsty little teenager to deal with, and doing spontaneous, adrenaline rush inducing shit is a lot easier to do than dealing with emotions. Way more fun, too.”

“I get that,” Danny said softly. “I was worried for you for a while in high school. You didn’t come to school for like a week straight once and I totally thought something bad had happened.”

“Really?” Sam asked. He looked surprised that Danny had remembered that, and he also looked a little guilty.

“I mean, yeah,” Danny stammered. It was true; it had been a little hard not to be on the lookout for Sam after his dad’s mugshot had been plastered on every newspaper in town.

“Well, I was fine,” Sam insisted, guilt still gracing his features. “With everything going on, I figured nobody would care if I stayed away for a little while. I was pretty much just taking tabs in the woods and eating at drive throughs and stirring up shit at random bars.”

“That sounds like it sucks,” Danny blurted, and Sam looked startled by his candor.

“It did suck,” Sam answered plainly. “But it could have been worse. I mean, I only got arrested once.”

“That’s a miracle,” Danny joked and Sam laughed.

“Honestly, yeah,” Sam agreed with a feline smirk. “I’ve gotten up to some pretty crazy things in my time.”

“I’d love to hear about them,” Danny smiled, cupping his chin in his hand in an effort to look tuned in completely to Sam. Sam laughed again and mirrored Danny’s cheesy motion with a higher notch of dramatics, making both of them chuckle before Sam launched into a highlights reel of the craziest things he’d experienced in the past couple of years. With every new anecdote, Sam loosened up more and more, his eyes staying round and playful as he gesticulated often and laughed between his words. Even though his stories painted him as some kind of a wild thrill seeker, the Sam sitting in front of Danny was exuberant, sweet, and kept collapsing into fits of giggles that made him snort and giggle all over again. Danny couldn’t help but stare.

Suddenly it was November, and Danny and Sam put their heads together to work through the review packet they’d been given. The truth is that the review packet had all the basics of the units they’d gone through, and the professor had said that the final was going to be a collection of all the simplest concepts so there was no reason to unnecessarily stress, but Danny and Sam began to study like it was the bar exam. At this point, both of them were quietly aware that Sam would be able to pass this final without Danny’s help, and that their studying sessions didn’t actually involve all that much studying anymore. They’d go to the library or a coffee shop or any kind of quiet establishment, pull out their folders and pencils and calculators, and then not touch them for the next couple of hours while they chatted. On a few occasions, Sam would shut down when the conversation got too close for him, and Danny knew that during those times he was waiting for Danny to go, but he never did. He’d pick a new topic, broach it carefully, and wait for Sam to warm back up to him. That unthinking kindness was a big part of why Sam actually started to feel comfortable opening up to Danny, even if it was only a little bit. It was also why Sam started to feel like he would do anything to get alone with Danny, such as feigning that he absolutely needed them to start meeting up twice a week more than once. Right before the actual test, Sam even considered inviting Danny over to his place to…not study, he wouldn’t get away with saying that’s why he wanted him over. That’s why he never ended up offering. Part of it was shame, honestly. He didn’t like the imagery of Danny, bright and clean, standing in the basement he called home and pretending to like it. Or even actually liking it, seeing as he seemed to like everything Sam pitched to him, even when it was a tale of arson or getting an unseemly tattoo in an unseemly place.

What it was, really, was that Sam wanted Danny alone because he had a big, fat crush on him. When he’d first seen Danny in class, he’d recognized him from school, sure, but his first thought was that he was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. So gorgeous that he looked entirely out of place hunched over his laptop in a stained t-shirt that he assumed doubled as his uniform for work. Sam wasn’t stupid, he knew that his look attracted his stares, and usually he loved the attention. But he felt uncharacteristically nervous when he began to notice that Danny’s eyes couldn’t stay off of him during class. In fact, even after becoming friends and becoming arguably close friends, he still felt nervous under Danny’s gaze. He wanted to keep his eyes on him at all times, and as the last day of class drew near, he was worried he was going to lose it. Sam knew he had to make a move. He just wasn’t sure how.

“Come over.”

Danny blinked.

“Hm?” Danny asked with a closed mouth, looking up from his paper to see that Sam wasn’t even looking at him. Sam was regarding the motor oil under his nails with great intensity.

“Come over,” Sam repeated, slowly and theatrically. “After the final tomorrow. We’ll party and lay a semester of unrelenting torment to rest.”

“Oh,” Danny replied dumbly, suddenly feeling very warm under the collar of his green sweater. “Yeah, sure, sounds fun. Should I bring anything?”

“Nah, I’ve got enough liquor to be deemed a public fire hazard,” Sam grinned, finally looking at Danny to flash him his teeth. “You’ll probably have to crash for the night, though. We’re going to get pretty fucked up.”

“Oh, are we?” Danny challenged with a smile of his own. “I don’t know how wild a two person party can get.”

“I’d invite other people but they wouldn’t understand the true heart of the party like we do,” Sam explained dryly. “You can pick what we watch.”

“Sweet,” Danny sang, his knee bouncing from jitters under the table. He couldn’t stop thinking about the prospect of sleeping in the same room as Sam. “Do I get to sleep on the couch, or is it a pillow and a blanket situation?”

“Whatever you want, bro,” Sam answered coolly, looking back to his nails. “All I know is you don’t get the bed.”

“You must be so proud of your twin size mattress.”

“Hey, she sees plenty of play,” Sam purred, blatantly lying. He winked and Danny rolled his eyes, landing his attention back on his paper.

“If ‘she’ saw plenty of play, you wouldn’t still have a twin,” Danny accused, his stomach turning at the thought of anyone other than him in that bed with Sam. Sam scoffed.

“Hey now, mattresses are expensive as fuck,” Sam argued, reaching a defensive headspace where his arms crossed and his lip curled. Danny loved it.

“True, true,” Danny humored him. “So, do I get to ride home with you on your big scary motorcycle or do I have to follow you in my car?”

“We’ll see if your excuse for a car can keep up with my Harley. I’ve been meaning to ask you to drag race, anyways.”

“My sheer spite would make my car go faster than your tricycle.”

“Tricycle?!”

Danny laughed as Sam flew into a sputtering tirade of defending his motorcycle, counting out bullet pointed arguments on his fingers as Danny sat there with a dopey smile on his face. Danny wondered if Sam had caught on to the fact that he fired him up just so he could watch him fizzle down. At the same time, Sam wondered if Danny knew how much he liked that he did that.

Danny’s nerves began to run wild about halfway through his final. Not because of any uncertainty at his answers, but because as time passed, he realized just how soon he’d be at Sam’s. He was worried about what he’d be like after a few drinks and finding himself completely alone with the man he’d begun to fantasize about more and more every day. Actually, he hadn’t thought of much else but what he was going to do about this hangout time with Sam, or rather, what he wanted to do. A gentle, almost innocent crush had morphed so quickly in such a short time, and his feelings were quickly developing in a way that kept his head filled with images of his hands on Sam’s hips and how Sam’s neck might look when covered in bruises. As one of those thoughts started to drift into his mind, his thoughts whispering about how it was a very real possibility, Danny’s pencil began to fly over his paper as he hurried to finish as fast as possible.

Sam didn’t keep Danny waiting for very long after he did finally turn in his final and hurry out into the hallway. Sam had dressed pretty nice for once, in his own uniquely Sam way. He had on a rumpled white shirt with a dark green leather jacket, paired with dark jeans that boasted only a few scuffs and minor rips. He stomped after Danny down the hall in heavy workmans boots.

“How was it for you?” Sam asked, his body language bordering on giddy as they burst out the doors into a chilly, biting breeze that immediately reddened both their cheeks and noses.

“Honestly? It was kind of easy,” Danny said brightly and Sam immediately let out a laugh, kicking an icy stick as they approached where they’d parked their respective vehicles nearby.

“I knew you’d say that, ugh,” Sam complained.

“What, was it hard for you?”

“No, it’s just more annoying when things are easy for you,” Sam explained. “‘Cause everything’s easy to you, so, like, duh, of course you thought it was easy.”

“Sorry for being smart?” Danny laughed apologetically.

“Yeah, you better be.”

Danny scoffed and Sam laughed, brushing a few stray leaves off the seat of his bike and straddling it. Danny’s breath caught slightly when Sam adjusted himself, his back arching for a few seconds before he settled down, fiddling with his gloves while Danny dragged his gaze away from the seat of his bike. They weren’t even at Sam’s yet, and he started to become really worried about his capacity for self control.

Danny worried again when they arrived at Sam’s grungy apartment building and he watched Sam flip his hair over his shoulder as he fumbled for his keys.

Danny worried some more when Sam insisted on standing sideways in the doorway to dramatically present his living room to him, so that Danny felt his chest drag against his upper arm as he squeezed past.

Danny worried the most in the moments right after the door closed. Sam pressed his back against the wood coquettishly while grinning softly at Danny, and Danny sort of floated out of himself when he felt his body turn on his heel and march right up to Sam. Sam’s eyes widened and his goofy introductory remarks died on his tongue as he looked up at Danny in puzzlement right before Danny gently palmed the side of his tattooed throat and brought his lips to Sam’s. And Sam, the rough edged, chain smoking, eye rolling, pain of a man immediately buckled at the knee and sighed into the contact, his rough hands grazing Danny’s neck before diving into his hair. Danny felt his entire body go blindingly white hot with nerves as he gasped and went in for another kiss, his jaw angling perfectly against Sam’s as he held him firmly against the door. Sam arched against the wood and into Danny’s touch, melting against whatever contact he could find on the taller man. After a minute of Sam writhing and Danny nearly blacking out from the pleasure of Sam’s soft lips on his own, Danny finally pulled away for a deep breath of air, maintaining frenzied eye contact with Sam as he watched him paw lightly at his neck and take gasping breaths.

“Hey,” Danny breathed, his voice raspy and shaking. “I’m sorry, I should have-”

“Took you fucking long enough,” Sam cut him off, his shining lips splitting into a wild smile. “I mean, fuckin’ A, man. I was starting to think I was reading into nothing.”

“Definitely not nothing,” Danny replied quietly. “A very nervous something.”

“Well, the something is mutual,” Sam grinned, giving Danny a proper up and down with his eyes and chuckling softly. “Very, very mutual.”

“Cool,” Danny said shyly, dipping his head to try and hide his smile, as if he hadn’t just slammed Sam against a door to steal a kiss.

“Come back,” Sam whined softly, grasping Danny by the collar of his corduroy jacket and pulling him back into his embrace. “Come on, don’t be a tease any more than you already are.”

“I’m a tease?” Danny asked with delighted disbelief, smiling into the contact of Sam beginning to kiss along his jaw and neck. “You were the one who was going to make me sleep on the floor tonight.”

“Oh, baby, you were never going to be sleeping on the floor,” Sam whispered in his ear, kissing his jaw and working his way up to giving Danny one, long kiss on the lips before speaking again. “I always get what I want.”

“You want me?” Danny asked against his lips, getting lost in the wide expanse of Sam’s dark eyes.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Sam purred, cupping Danny’s jaw and pulling him into a series of slow kisses while Danny’s mind continued to reel at Sam’s reciprocity. With Sam biting his lip and kissing it better in succession, along with his willowy fingers tracing down Danny’s chest, Danny was honestly beginning to find it hard that this wasn’t a miracle from the universe. Or maybe some kind of dream that he’d fallen into without realizing. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend that this scenario was exactly what Sam had been picturing for their evening the entire time.

Once Sam’s tongue made its way into Danny’s mouth, adding warmth and licking smoothly, Danny started to hurriedly shrug off his jacket and toss it blindly behind him before starting to work Sam’s off of him. It exposed the patchwork of tattoos along Sam’s arms, tigers and daggers and snakes in the traditional style popping against the white of his shirt. To his surprise, Sam’s hands left Danny’s cheeks and boldly slid up under his sweater, causing Danny to flinch and yelp at the feeling of Sam’s ice cold fingers on his warm skin. Sam giggled, still keeping their lips locked together as he grabbed at Danny’s waist and sides, his hands unable to stay in one place. Matching Sam’s reckless abandon, Danny suddenly bent at the knee and hooked his arms around Sam’s thighs, boosting him into the air. Sam hummed into his mouth, crossing his legs behind Danny’s back and snaking his hands out from under Danny’s sweater to tangle back into his curls.

“My bedroom is the door behind you to the right,” Sam mumbled breathlessly, fidgeting slightly against Danny’s firm front.

“That’s awful forward of you,” Danny flirted, taking a moment to breathe and appreciate the weight of Sam in his arms, holding him up with very little effort. This could come in handy.

“Well, do you want to fuck me or not?” Sam scoffed, a further blush flushing his face as he said it. His pupils completely swallowed up the warm brown of his iris as he stared expectantly at Danny, who had to take a second to concentrate on not cumming in his jeans right then and there.

“Yes, god, yes,” Danny answered quickly, immediately starting a slow, backwards walk towards Sam’s bedroom as Sam grinned wolfishly and descended on Danny’s mouth hungrily again.

Eventually, they fumbled their way into the bedroom, Sam closing the door behind them before Danny dropped him on the bed and climbed over him. Danny considered continuing with his conquest, but he found himself looking up to observe his surroundings. Sam’s bedroom was small, with wrinkled posters and flyers for basement shows and concerts peppering the gray walls. There were clothes all over the floor, along with the butts of cigarettes and a myriad of worn out sneakers and boots. Sam watched Danny’s expression carefully as he assessed the mess that was his room, his eyes tracking the pattern on his quilt before smiling at Sam again.

“It’s cute in here,” Danny declared, looking at a string of lights taped to the borders of the walls while Sam blinked in surprise at his words.

“No, it’s not,” Sam muttered, looking around his room and seeing only the disregard for his own environment in the mess he’d created.

“Nah, it’s all very you,” Danny explained, looking at the room and seeing the person behind it all. He imagined Sam wobbling on a stool to paint the walls their moody gray, or pulling his quilt out of a box and smoothing it lovingly over the sheets, wondering if it had been made for him by a relative or hand picked from a thrift shop with a curated eye. It was all painfully adorable to him. It was all so…Sam.

Sam saw the adoring shine in Danny’s crinkled, hazel eyes and felt all his seductive confidence fly out the window, only able to bat his lashes up at him and marvel.

“You really don’t think I’m a scuzzball, do you?” Sam asked with a note of amused realization, his sentence lifting into a slight one note laugh.

“Never have,” Danny answered honestly, cocking his head at Sam while smiling warmly. “I mean, you can pretend all you want, but I know you’re not who you pretend to be. You’re just…”

“What?” Sam challenged, slightly defensive of the persona he’d worked hard to maintain over the years, and also slightly embarrassed that Danny had seen through it so effortlessly.

“You’re just you, I guess,” Danny shrugged as best he could while holding his weight on his elbows, still hovering over Sam’s reclined body. “And that’s not very scary to me.”

Sam was silent for a minute, unsure of what to say to that. Initially, he’d been annoyed that Danny was so nice to him, figuring the other shoe would drop at any time and he’d reveal his worst intentions. This was a pattern Sam was accustomed to. But Danny really meant what he said. He didn’t just see through Sam, he saw him fully, and Sam realized with a relieved jolt that he had never really been annoyed about it. He was grateful.

But Sam was still very much in a certain state of mind, and his body reminded him of it when he looked down and saw how his crotch had lifted to press against Danny’s without his realizing. He figured maybe there was a certain way he could show Danny just how grateful he was.

“Why don’t you show me just how scary you can be?” Sam invited lowly, his hand returning to Danny’s cheek as his thumb swiped over Danny’s bottom lip. This small action seemed to remind Danny of how they’d ended up here, and Sam watched with restrained delight as Danny’s eyes glazed over slightly.

“What do you want?” Danny asked quietly, adjusting and hovering further over Sam, his look of genuine caring slowly morphing into something almost predatory as he smiled. His hair fell around them, the rest of the world falling away.

“I already told you,” Sam pointed out haughtily. “I want you.”

“I’m getting kind of tired of your attitude,” Danny fired back. “You know I want specifics.”

“Is that what you want? Specifics? Not me?” Sam grinned cheekily, enjoying pressing Danny’s buttons even more now that he was getting the idea that he’d be rewarded for it. Danny rolled his eyes and shook his head at Sam.

“Be that way,” Danny hummed, straightening and sitting hard on Sam’s lap, causing him to let out a strangled whine as Danny pulled his sweater off. “Guess I’ll just call the shots.”

Sam really wanted to conjure up a fiery retort, but his mind went fuzzy and blank at the sight of Danny with his shirt off, his broad chest exposed and his smile cocky and triumphant as he watched Sam flounder wordlessly. Sam became even more aware of the strain in his jeans when his eyes traveled downward and he caught sight of the trail of dark hair just over the waistband of Danny’s pants.

“Do you even know how much I like you?” Danny started, casually undoing the clasp of his watch and leaning to the side to drop it on Sam’s bedside table while Sam propped himself up on his elbows. “I literally thought I was going to flunk the class because you were so distracting.”

“I didn’t even talk to you,” Sam said simply, barely audible.

“Didn’t need to,” Danny affirmed. “My mind did most of the distracting stuff.”

“Like what?” Sam prodded, tipping his chin up to stare unrelentingly at Danny in a pathetic attempt to regain control. Danny, taking advantage of this surprising burst of dominance that Sam seemed to give him, gently grasped Sam’s chin.

“Well, initially, I had all these ideas of how we’d end up kissing for the first time,” Danny explained. “Shockingly, none of them ended up being how it went, but I’m glad I had options. And, I mean, those ideas just sort of developed over time. I’d wake up and be all surprised that I’d cum in my pants and not on you.”

Sam’s jaw hung open and Danny shut it gently for him, his body pulsing with heat as his adrenaline raced in his veins.

“You gonna teach me some more, hm?” Sam finally managed to say, straining to try and steal a kiss. “Or do you want me to lead?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Danny grinned, pushing Sam onto his back. Sam, breathless, watched Danny move his hands down to Sam’s aching groin and begin to undo his pants, fingers shaking with anticipation. Sam pushed his hair off his forehead and pressed his covered dick into Danny’s hand after his pants had been tugged down to his knees, not speaking but letting a needling whimper escape that made Danny smile.

“What are we going to do with you, Sam?” Danny teased, running his thumb up and down Sam’s concealed length.

“Danny,” Sam choked out as Danny took his hands off of Sam and began to unzip his own pants. The lack of touch was almost unbearable at that moment. “Come on, fuck me, please.”

“That could look like a lot of things,” Danny said absently, freeing his dick and palming it casually, letting out a slow sigh of relief. Sam stared unabashedly at Danny’s impressive and admittedly intimidating length. He’d fantasized about what he might expect, but the real thing was almost overwhelming. But he knew what he needed.

“In me,” Sam whispered, his tone bordering on longing. “Please. I can take it.”

“You can?” Danny questioned, trying to keep up his domineering tone despite the wind being knocked out of his lungs at Sam’s request. “Have you been getting ready for me?”

“Maybe,” Sam admitted quietly. He took a dangerous leap with what he said next. “But those randos don’t even hold a candle to you.”

Danny flinched, jealousy immediately rolling over him in cold waves as his mind started to conjure up disgusting imagery of Sam on his back for anybody other than him. It must have translated into his expression without his knowledge because Sam’s open mouth twisted into a smug smile, arching an eyebrow at Danny. It was a dare, and Danny dared to prove himself.

“Shut up before I make you,” Danny snarled, challenging Sam to call him out for being all bark and no bite. But Sam obediently shut his trap, lowering himself slightly on his elbows and spread his legs ever so slightly, inviting Danny in without a word.

“So…was I better than those other ‘randos’ stretching you out?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I was joking.”

Sam’s whole body was in absolute, delicious agony, his face buried into the crook of Danny’s neck. He attempted to even out his breathing, his throat raw and his chest tired after all the pornographic moans and whimpers that had escaped him when Danny had driven into him with varying amounts of mercy over the course of what felt like hours. Sam’s shoulders were already blooming with a score of bruises where Danny had left teeth marks, anchoring himself to Sam in animalistic moments of passion when he threatened to finish far too early. Danny’s body was aching too, his abs and hips tense and his shoulders in their own pain from holding himself up for so long. It had been worth it to keep the sight of Sam’s gasps and fluttering eyes, and he was certain he had enough material in his mind's eye to keep him satisfied in his own personal endeavors for weeks. Danny brushed his fingers lightly up and down Sam’s spine, his lips pressed to the crown of Sam’s head as they laid in silence, recovering.

“Do you want to hear something crazy?” Sam said, his voice muffled by Danny’s scorching hot skin.

“Sure,” Danny replied, giving Sam’s hair a quick kiss after he said it.

“I used to have a crush on you in high school.”

“What!” Danny blurted, attempting to push Sam’s shoulder up so he could see his face, but Sam buried his head even further into Danny’s neck. “Explain!”

“I just did!” Sam laughed, his voice still muted. “It wasn’t anything serious but, yeah, I guess you were kind of my hallway crush. It’s no big deal.”

“Wow,” Danny said dreamily. “And look where you are now. How exciting for you.”

“Shut up!” Sam groaned, finally lifting his head and giving Danny a fake frown, his face glowing and flushed. Danny mocked his frown back to him, laughing at his expression and tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind his ear.

“I definitely thought you were cute,” Danny smiled. “I was super into emo haircuts.”

“I hate you,” Sam deadpanned, looking unamused.

“Is that why you just let me cum in y-”

Sam pressed his palm over Danny’s mouth, muffling his subsequent laugh. Sam let out an exasperated sigh and leaned over to reach into an opened drawer of his bedside table, items rattling out of sight until he emerged with his prize: Marlboro Reds. Sam bit down on a cigarette and slid out another to offer it to Danny, who wrinkled his nose at it initially but took it between his fingers anyways, studying it while Sam pulled free the lighter and rolled onto his back next to Danny.

“You ever smoked?” Sam asked, lighting his cigarette and taking a deep inhale while Danny shook his head no. Sam blew out a thick cloud of smoke before rolling onto his front, taking the cigarette out of Danny’s hand and sticking it in Danny’s mouth himself. Danny wanted to protest, but froze when Sam leaned over and pressed the tip of his lit cigarette to Danny’s, both of them silent save for the crackling of the paper and tobacco as Danny’s cigarette began to glow. He took a hesitant inhale, letting the heady warmth settle on his tongue before he began to cough, sitting up sharply and choking on a cloud of smoke while Sam chuckled and patted him on the back.

“You’ll get there,” Sam assured him through laughs.

“I don’t know if I wanna get there,” Danny wheezed, letting the cigarette fizzle between his fingers instead of taking a second drag.

“You don’t have to, just figured I’d give you a taste of the wild side,” Sam grinned, the cigarette dangling attractively from his bottom lip.

“You’ve given me more than a taste of that,” Danny said with a wink. Sam chuckled again, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth as he stared with glittering eyes at Danny.

“I like you,” Sam said simply, conjuring the innocent butterflies in Danny’s stomach.

“Thank you,” Danny answered shyly and Sam immediately slapped his arm.

“Say it back!”

“I like you!” Danny laughed, slapping Sam back. “You knew that!”

“Yeah, but I like hearing you say it,” Sam hummed proudly.

“You’re weird.”

“You’re weirder.”

“You’re the weirdest,” Danny teased, taking another more careful inhale of his cigarette and releasing it with only a mild clearing of his throat. “Ooh, look, I’m learning.”

“Maybe I had something to teach you after all,” Sam smiled. “I guess I never really needed to bribe you into helping me, huh?”

“Not at all,” Danny said. “But I’m enjoying the reward of just you.”

Sam’s smile widened and Danny smiled right back at him. It suddenly seemed so ridiculous that there had ever been a time when he was afraid to speak to Sam. How could he have looked at his puppy dog eyes and cute shaggy hair and not dragged him into his lap right then and there? Danny figured he had time to rectify that, doing just that and catching Sam in a smoky kiss, suddenly thrilled about all the things that they could continue to teach each other.

#you have to listen to crush by ethel cain while you read this btw #caravel nation law #gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #sanny gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van art #but you look so cool #i couldnt make myself write full smut but i tried #karoufiction

112 notes · View notes