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accidentalshifter · 7 days

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[June 4, 2024: The Phantom of the restroom stalls, Elijah finally gets to the point.]

⚜️ TW: My Mikaelsons are a ✨️ problem ✨️ and don't play nice at all. Death, sex, blood, violence, manipulation, and dark themes will probably be present. I don't condone any of the actions taken by these vampires, I'm just recording them. For science.

Shifting Notes:

I'm still over here continuing to attempt a tight-rope balance between my improved CR, my TVD DR, and everything else that is shoved in-between them without falling off the tight-rope and dying.

Either way, a war isn't (often) won in a single battle. And a solid change doesn't happen in one day unless you're a LOA master 😂. I'm just trying to take it one shift at a time. Pray for me. And apologies for the slow updates! Warning: this post is long as fuck. It's not a short read.

Astrological Timing: Sun in Gemini, Moon in (later degrees of) Taurus. Mercury and Jupiter just entered Gemini. Venus cazimi (an exact conjunction with the sun). Moon & Pluto sextile Neptune. An alignment of 6 planets (Saturn, Neptune, Mars, Mercury, Uranus, and Jupiter) in the Aries, Pisces, & Cetus constellations. HOLY SHIT! There is just WAY too much to say about this. Let's boil it down to: "a day of cosmic potency." Also, the Venus Cazimi/Sun Conjunction initiates a new romantic cycle by ending an old one. Still shifting during Taurus ♉️, Cancer ♋️, Virgo ♍️ Moons to tap into the Elijah vibe.

⚜️ On May 26th, 2024, I had a nightmare?? I wouldn't consider it a "shift" per se. Looking back on it now, this nightmare seems eeriely reminiscent of the scenes in TVD where one of the vampires (like Damon) manipulates a person's dreams while their mental guard is down. Which is just...so great in context. 🙃 If I could script all the fangs out of this DR, I'd be tempted to. But then, in my eyes, it'd stop being TVD.

⚜️ Inside the nightmare, I was dressed up in a sparkling gown made of silver sequins and a flapper headband made of white feathers, rhinestones, and pearls. I sat in a red velvet theater seat, facing a large stage whose red curtains were being drawn open for the first act in a play. A hand clamps itself down over mine. It's strong yet warm. I feel it squeezing my hand reassuringly. I immediately look at the source of this touch to see that it's Elijah Mikaelson. He's sitting in the seat next to me on my right. His hair is slicked back with gel and he's wearing a dark blue suit.

⚜️ Just as I'm about to say something, I feel someone lean in and whisper into my ear on my left. I immediately recognize the tone of voice before I register what is actually being said. "Shh, love. It's about to begin," says the British-accented, Niklaus Mikaelson. I whirl to my left to see the Hybrid sitting there with one finger to his lips in a sign for silence. He points to the stage as the lights dim in this... Theater? Opera House?? That I am seated in. Darkness overtakes my surroundings. I can't make out anything. Except the stage that is lit up by limelight.

Observation: Shit. Is this the Opera House in New Orleans that burnt down? 😳

⚜️ My eyes turn towards the stage now. I'm met with a scene that makes my heart drop directly into my stomach. An impersonation of my CR-self sits in an exact replica of my chair at an exact replica of my desk, typing away on an exact replica of my laptop, while surrounded by an exact recreation of my CR room. "It's you," I hear Klaus say, a loud sneer in his voice. I begin to try and explain when I am cut off by both of the Mikaelsons turning to look at me simultaneously.

"WE KNOW," they say in complete unison.

Then, I wake up.

Observation: So, uh. We're just gonna. Yeah, we're just gonna do this... *throws nightmare in the trash* Aaaand...1, 2, 3. Repressed!! 🙃 I'm honestly gonna chalk this nightmare up to stress. Even if it isn't stress and this was a true transmission from my TVD DR, there's zero rewards in it for me if I admit the truth to either of the Mikaelsons point blank. Like in TVD, this could be a fear tactic being used to manipulate me into slipping up during my shifts. So, I'm not taking the bait.

⚜️ Fast-forward to June 4th. I begin working on my process for shifting, listening to Theta wave music, & deep breathing exercises until I start catching visuals/flashes of La Avena's restroom. Like the restaurant, the restrooms are classy; cream wallpaper flecked in gold, panel moulding of black wood, and eggshell white, marble floors make the surroundings an elegant affair. Dim, yellow lighting casts it in a soothing ambiance. Fine mirrors framed in the same black wood as the mouldings sit hanging upon the walls. About four of them to match the same number of sinks & stalls in the restroom. I can see my DR-self pacing around with her cellphone pressed against her ear, looking a bit worse for wear. The day is catching up to her, I bet. And her day isn't even over yet! 🫠

⚜️ "I CAN'T believe I was SO stupid!" I hear a voice exclaim through exasperated sobs. It's Angie. They're having a mental breakdown over the break-up with their (ex) boyfriend. "I trusted him!! I-I can't believe that I gave him another chance!!!! I should've KNOWN when Evan was a-acting weird that something was up! Ugh! I'm so freakin'-"

⚜️ At this point, I interrupt/cut Angie off. I've been cheated on before in my CR and even if I don't know who Angie is, I hate hearing any person blaming themselves over the actions of a cheater. I tell Angie that it's normal and healthy to put trust in the person that you're dating. That they aren't to blame.

"But you wanna know what isn't normal??" I ask Angie, barely restraining my distaste for this fuckboy who hurt them, "Going behind your partner's back. That's NOT normal."

⚜️ Angie calms down a little. I can hear them blowing their nose. With embarrassment in their voice, Angie admits that they're jealous of the girl whom their boyfriend cheated on them with. "It's SO pathetic..." Angie moans aloud. I can hear the self-loathing in each of their words. It reminds me of ghosts of exes past. I felt the exact same way when I found out that I'd been cheated on. I tell Angie that it isn't "pathetic", that they're just really hurt right now. That again, these are ALL normal reactions given the situation.

I may not know this Angie, but I refuse to let anyone go through this experience without a bit of reassurance from me! It's what I would have wanted from my friends back when I'd discovered my ex's lies. It's...what I *wished* I had gotten from my friends, anyways...

⚜️ Angie shifts gears, then. They blow their nose (one more time) and ask me when I'm coming back home? "I want to see you right now! I need my bestie with me!!" Angie tries guessing how long my "vacation" will be. "In like, two weeks, right? Two and a half?"

I go silent. My DR-self looks embarrassed in the reflection of the mirror next to her. She's rubbing her temples again, fighting an ache forming inside her head. "Uh, no. A bit longer than that," my DR-self (Z) finally replies after a second of consideration. It seems like she's trying to choose her words tactfully.

"A month???" Angie asks, their voice holding an edge of frustration to it.

"More like a year," Z answers reluctantly, "I've told you this before I left, Angie..."

⚜️ Angie does not take this information well. "A YEAR?!" They exclaim, "A whole year?! It's not fair!!"

Zoey sighs while I awkwardly hover around. "Just until I can sell my...William's house-" I think she was about to say "Dad" but caught herself beforehand. She quickly adds on an optimistic, positive note; "Which, according to his will, is in a year from now!"

"UGH, BUT THAT'S SO LONG, THOUGH!" Comes the immediate whine response from Angie. The sound of their clear disapproval explodes from my phone & bounces off the restroom walls. My DR-self and I wince hard in unison.

⚜️ Out of the corner of *my eye*, I catch a movement in the mirror that is not our own. Like somebody had walked past us into one of the bathroom stalls. But, I didn't hear the door to the restroom open. I definitely didn't see anyone walk past Z (me) either. 🤨 Odd. Zoey continues to calm Angie down on the phone, telling them that the time would pass quickly & that she'd be back in Portland next summer.

Meanwhile, I yank on Zoey's subconscious to pay fucking attention to her surroundings. Something was ringing alarm bells inside my head!

"Any more bad news since APPARENTLY it's finally being honest with me day?" Angie asks Z in an exasperated tone. To be honest, since it's (not) honesty day, I have a bad bad feeling about whatever the hell is happening right now. I urge Z to end the call.

⚜️ "Well," Zoey says, reluctant to admit this information to Angie, but forced to since I'm urging her to hang up at this point, "I kinda need to go. I'm, uhh, out to dinner right now with someone..." I feel Zoey brace herself. As if a strong wind was about to blow her over.

⚜️ Angie explodes. Well, not really. But I can hear them squealing: "With WHO? Oh! Is it a boy?! Is it a cute boy??? Dish the details!!"

Zoey and I become immediately flustered by this. I...haven't been putting too much effort or thought into whether Elijah is a "cute boy". I've just been trying to survive dinner & keep my heart inside my chest instead of it being ripped out suddenly by him. Something that all Mikaelsons are prone to doing.

"Uh, I don't know," Zoey replies, rubbing the back of her neck nervously, "I...suppose he's handsome?? In an "old school" sort of way..."

⚜️ Angie squeals again. I swear the phone is gonna break if they keep doing that. Zoey & I make the excuse that somebody just walked into the bathroom (technically not a lie) and that I'd have to call them back later. (Much, much later) I can hear Angie complaining as I hang up the phone and tug on Zoey to pay attention. Maybe use those "slayer senses" I scripted in a year ago.

⚜️ "Hello?" I call out to the empty space, "Is anyone here?"

No response. Silence.

An eerie, still absence of sound.

⚜️ Next, I attempt to "feel" the space around me. Extending my awareness as far as I can go. However, the only significant thing that I achieve by doing this is feeling the presence of Elijah in the dining area. He's like this cold spot. Like you just under-microwaved a meal and there are still spots of it that haven't yet de-thawed. I can sense that he hasn't moved from the table. He's still there. Meaning that whatever I saw in the mirror wasn't him...

I'm starting to wonder if my main worry isn't vampires in this DR but something else.

⚜️ Whelp. Since that didn't work, I decide it's time for a more...pro-active approach.

I begin kicking open the stalls.

The first, second, and third stalls are empty. When I get to the 4th, wheelchair-accessible stall, I freeze up before it. Those senses that I used to "ping" Elijah are going crazy. I get this very weird feeling crawling up my spine. Like the air has suddenly become stagnant. Like static noise is filling the area within the 4th stall, shredding the atoms comprised in it, and creating a vacuum effect. Zoey and I brace ourselves. Preparing for something we cannot (adequately) predict. Then, kick open the 4th stall.

⚜️ No one is there. Just empty space and a suddenly "normal" feeling. As if the static we were sensing had evaporated into thin air...

Zoey sighs deeply. I mutter that "Well, that's not a good sign," and file it away for thinking about later.

Observation: That's twice now that my (not a spidey-senses knock off) slayer senses have picked something weird up since my arrival to Mystic Falls. 🧐 It's becoming a pattern I don't like. But then again, this is TVD. It's on brand for this reality. And I'm trying to stay as close to the canon reality as possible, so...

⚜️ Leaving the restroom and re-entering the dining area of La Avena again, I spy a couple who has just been seated at a table closer to the entrance. It's a middle-aged man with a balding spot and hastily-done comb over & a woman who I can't adequately see. Since the man's wide back is blocking my view of her. I (and Zoey) are visited by a sense of comfort knowing that we aren't the only ones eating in this restaurant. It was striking me as a bit. Well, odd? Suspicious?? This is supposed to be a restaurant with good reviews in a small town with nothing to do except start drama. It should be packed. But, I guess the festival is drawing away customers today? Anyways.

⚜️ "I hope everything is alright??" Elijah asks with a tone of prim politeness & gentlemanly concern when I return to the table. His menu is placed down next to him, closed shut. He's probably ready to order by now. That phone call dragged on for a bit...

Zoey and I sit down in our chair. Zoey seems confused, tilting her head slightly to the side & responding with a "What? Huh??" to Elijah.

I'm starting to think my DR-self isn't smart.

⚜️ Elijah clarifies. "The phone call," he says, looking at me with a cocked brow.

"Oh," Zoey replies, "Yeeeah, my friend is just having a rough time lately. That's all."

A knowing smile curves along Elijah's lips. It causes me to wanna look *away* from it. Or else I'm going to have to hide my blush. That smile should be made illegal. 🫣 "Ahh. Young love..." the Original vampire states. There's a wistful sound tinging his voice, memories on the tip of his tongue. Is he thinking about his girlfriends? Celeste? Tatiana?

⚜️ "What makes you say that?" Zoey asks, a bit more defensive than I thought she'd be. I keep forgetting that Z just broke up with her boyfriend before moving to Mystic Falls. You all should see that "It's over" email. Imagine 100+ replies back and forth that sounds like it should be an episode of Maury. But, I don't know. That's another thing I've been thinking about. Why did Zoey break up over email? I'd have done it in person.

⚜️ Elijah gestures to my DR-self's face with a casual wave of his hand. "I've had that very same expression when I was counseling my siblings on their many...dalliances, we'll call them." He adds afterward, "Although, I'd like to think I was a little less underslept." Elijah gives me this...look. He's gazing at me in this way that makes me instantly self-conscious.

⚜️ I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I want to say something witty but Zoey beats me to the chase, responding to his comment with sourness. "Well, I've been stuck on a bus for a few days. Mystic Falls isn't exactly a jump away from Oregon..."

Zoey follows this up by picking up her menu and opening it, creating an effective barrier between herself and Elijah Mikaelson. I can see him peering over the matte card stock to watch (Z and I) with a raised eyebrow.

"I've already selected my order, Ms. Webb. I am just waiting on yours." He comments in a cool voice.

⚜️ The menu is divided into five categories: Antipasti (appetizers), Dalla Terra (meat and vegetable dishes), Dal Mare (seafood dishes), Il Dolci (dessert items) and Rinfreschi (drinks and alcoholic beverages). The five categories are separated by simple, elegant, black lines.

I don't recognize a lot of the names for the dishes listed. I...vaguely (?) remember little bits of my CR-self's past, before the incident that had me losing my childhood memories, where I'd sit in Italian restaurants with my grandparents. And I'd struggle to figure out which food was friendly for a child to eat. It feels very similar to right now. In this instant, I am a child again. Struggling to find what I can eat.

Fuck you, Elijah Mikaelson. 🤬

⚜️ In order to strengthen my connection to this scenario, I play the song: "Cannibal" by Naethan Apollo. Listen to it! It's super good. Well, I think so, at least. Plus. It fits this very moment in my DR.

⚜️ Eventually, my sight lands on something I recognize: "Parmigiana di Pollo." Or, in other words, chicken parmesean. I didn't think that such a fancy restaurant like La Avena would serve chicken parmesean but...I mean, how fancy can a place be when you're in a small, nowhere town like Mystic Falls?? They gotta cater to public appeal on some fronts...

"I've decided," I say with confidence.

⚜️ "Wonderful," Elijah replies, then holds up a single hand to alert the waitress. Which is surprisingly effective. I hear the immediate clack of heels on wood and turn to see that Maybe?Liv has returned. She asks if we've decided on our order politely. Elijah says yes and takes the lead, saying that he'll have the "Manicotti with a Cabernet Sauvignon. Saint Anthony, 1964." Then, hands Liv his menu. I say that I'll have the chicken parmesean and a refill of the sparkling water.

⚜️ Elijah looks at me inquisitively. As if he's surprised by my restraint. "Are you certain? There's plenty on the menu to choose from. I assure you, money is no object here."

I tell him that Itallian food always goes best with wine and that I, unfortunately, am too underage to be drinking in public.

Side Note: I didn't script my age in this TVD DR, so it kind of filled in the blanks for me. If you're just tuning in, my DR-self's age is 18. I am technically an adult. But also not legally old enough to drink yet. I found this out by snooping in my DR-self's wallet & found her ID card. I'd reset the script but...that's a lot of fucking work. Plus, being 18 means that I get to possibly attend Mystic Falls High with the Scooby Gang. Maybe. Who knows?

⚜️ I notice Maybe?Liv trying to continue to smile as I hand her the menu. But I can see it is strained as her eyes dart between Elijah & I. Yup. The age difference here is probably an uncomfortable feeling for her. But, in canon TVD, the vast age gap between MOST of the characters was...uncomfortable. Did anyone see the way Elijah smelled Elena when they first met????? Was I the only one going "HEY ELIJAH MAYBE BACK UP????" or what?

Anyways, Maybe?Liv takes my menu when I hand it to her and tells us that she'll be back with refills and drinks. Quickly, she walks off with a clack of her heels.

⚜️ "Ah, yes." Elijah nods wisely, "Fair enough. But...I was serious when I told you this venue would afford us both privacy."

Elijah pauses for a beat, then switches gears immediately. He goes in for the kill. Well, in a manner of speaking anyways...

"Color me intrigued, however. I couldn't help but notice that you haven't mentioned your siblings, save in passing, very much at all. I do hope it wouldn't be too rude of me to ask why that is so?"

Zoey & I snap our attention on Elijah almost instantaneously. Our collective gut clenches in a sickening twist that makes us both lose whatever appetite we had left. The thought of eating chicken parmesean is disgusting to us now. Our revulsion towards this question must be plain on our faces. Elijah seems to note this by saying...

⚜️ "You don't have to answer if it's too much trouble," He says softly, although there's this edge of darkness to the words, "I know from personal experience that siblings can be...a tricky subject to broach upon-"

His brown eyes flick over to my green ones. I can see his pupils dilating.

"-But it would aid me greatly in my research of Mystic Falls genealogical patterns throughout the centuries." Elijah steeples his fingers into a pyramid, "So, I'm sure you can understand the relevance of why I'm asking, Ms. Webb."

This dick is trying to compell me. 🤣 Fuck. Here we go. We've finally gotten to the point of this little dinner charade. Got it. Two can play this game.

⚜️ I yank control away from Zoey before she can open her mouth and say something very damaging. I end up sighing. Both genuinely weary of the subject matter and also pretty tired in general. My CR & DR bodies are both running on fumes at this point.

"Maybe I should've ordered that wine," I end up saying, chuckling slightly as I look down at the table cloth, analyzing the threads of the linen, "Where to begin...?"

I glance up at Elijah Mikaelson. It's my turn to pierce him with a singular gaze.

"My siblings and I...don't get along."

⚜️ At this point, I'm yanked back to my CR. I decide that it's time to regroup, refocus, and get my story straight.

The next shift will have to be a work of art to fool Elijah.

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the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers · 9 months

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So I Worked Myself Sick... And Recovery

Either that or my usual fall cold has really accurate timing. No matter the reason though I didn't wanna listen and tried to do more chores despite feeling like death. It got to the point I apologized to my mom for not doing more and she instead demanded I take some meds and go lay down. (She rarely gets like this unless she thinks I legit look like death...)

It's nothing bad, just my head in a vice, nausea, scratchy throat that hurts if I open my mouth for any reason, and congestion that eats like 5 boxes of tissues. The usual...

But that got me thinking since even on the verge of me falling over I was like "No, I need to do more, you need to rest... I'm sorry I haven't done more..." I'd totally go into the Spider Society totally ill but brunting through the symptoms like I have many times prior.

A lot of people are sympathetic thinking Miguel drug me in. But when I go to see him, he stops me mid-briefing and demands I go rest. I try to insist I'm fine and I'm going to do the job he gave me since I know I'm not contagious and I need to earn my keep.

Basically reciting crap that he hasn't said about me in years. So what does he do? He webs me up like he did to Miles and takes me back to his apartment. If I'm not going to at least act like I'll listen and get rest, then he's gonna ensure it.

I'm laid up in his bed, cold meds and a warm drink on the nightstand, a bowl of soup still steaming on the other. Miguel wishes that he could stay and do it all himself, but LYLA has it covered. Besides, he did bring me a few home comforts like my laptop and a few plushies. I can't be so restless if I'm buried in blankets and other soft crap. He even lets me log in to YouTube on his TV so that I'm not staring at such a close screen for so long, and he's only used it like 20 times in the years of having the place.

So when he's sure I'm not gonna leave, he heads back to work. He makes sure to tell me and LYLA to keep him updated if I need anything. We agree and it's not too long before I pass out, while LYLA gives updates every half hour like he asked.

Even with all this, he can't help but keep returning to check in on me himself. I'm usually asleep or playing Stardew with some documentary of true crime or a TV show or Book analysis on the TV. It calms him slightly but seeing me cough in pain or bring the trash can to my face causes him to ache.

Y'all can't tell me this man wouldn't be holding some internal guilt for pushing me so hard before, even after I explain this IS most likely all my own doing. So whenever he is back at the main Spider Society Hub, he can't disguise his curt behavior and shorter temper. Not to those who know him well, anyway. Newer recruits just think that's how he is...

But they can't help from wondering where I am, since I've developed a reputation of being the soothing balm he craves. Soon enough rumors started going around that we got into a fight and he sent me packing. But when some people catch him not being in his office multiple times for more than 20 minutes a time, they get worried. Their natural curiosity mixed with Miguel's weirder behavior and LYLA's secrecy would get the better of them and a few Spiders begin to follow Miguel.

When they come across Miguel's apartment, they sneak inside. They then find me, in his bed, in nothing but an oversized top, buried beneath blankets and plushies. The pills are scattered and nearly empty while cough syrup lies without a lid. The soup bowl is now on the floor. To top it all off, I do not appear to be breathing.

SPOILER ALERT! I am, I just am a real heavy sleeper in that regard so even my own mother will wake me up since she fears the worst. Well, even though Miguel had just left, LYLA had informed him of his freaked-out visitors. So he rushes back and he's PISSED since not only are they trespassing, but if they wake me and make me feel bad for resting, he's gonna lose it.

So he surprises these Spider-people from behind and begins lecturing them. But these Spider-people are resistant to his reasoning, considering how he behaved with others who didn't follow his rules like Gwen and Miles.

That's when I wake up, grumpy and groggy because owww... why are people here? But when Miguel sees this, his tone and behavior take a 180. This freaks out the intruding Spider-people even more and they begin getting frantic. I simply pat my throat, and when Miguel scolds me for talking when it hurts, I smile, pat my throat, and shake my head.

I froggily explain what really happened and that Miguel was just taking care of me since I refused to do it myself. I'm not kidnapped, I'm not fired or broken up with him. If anything I'm grateful someone, once again, knocked some sense into me since I have a history of not caring for my own health when it got bad but other people had problems.

This eases the newer Spider-people and everything seems okay as he escorts them out of his place and orders LYLA for another soup delivery... Though I may have helped calm the situation and shown them a much softer side to Miguel that not many have seen since long before the incident with his alt world...

Nothing's gonna help them with the thrashing they get back in the office, but that's not my concern...

#selfshipdom #selfship community #self shipping #self insert #self insert community #selfship #self indulgent stuff #fo community #ship: a different web to weave

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snowstark · 3 years

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Anon with the arts v stem bs for you, could you write a thing where Peter is in your position trying to write an essay when his brain Just Won't Work Right To Do The Words and he asks Tony for help and Tony's like *cracks knuckles* "get on your knees, baby boy, I'm writing this whole thing for you and you're gonna have your mouth stuffed with my cock until I'm done"

my god i saw this at like 7 am and went “shit, yes. i have to write this” before passing the fuck back out until 10. also sorry it’s late, i got carried away

we say thank you, we say please.

you can also read on ao3!

“Ugh!”

Tony glanced over at yet another one of Peter’s noises of complaint. They had grown in severity and loudness over the past few minutes, and the angry crinkle in Peter’s forehead told him just how frustrated the younger boy was.

“Fuck!”

Tony sniffed a smile, amused. “You doin’ okay, baby?”

“No,” Peter bit back, slamming his forehead onto the desk. “This stupid essay isn’t working out. Why am I even writing an essay? Isn’t the whole point of science to experiment?”

“And reflect on your findings,” Tony corrected with a roll of his eyes. He got up from his seat and came over, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder to peer at the laptop screen. “Lemme see what you have.”

“Be my guest.” Peter tried to get up, but stilled when Tony shoved him back down.

Humming, Tony read over the introduction Peter had managed to craft, then wordlessly reached out and highlighted the whole thing before deleting it.

“Hey!”

“Hm?” Tony smiled at him sweetly.

“Why’d you do that?” Peter seethed with a pout.

“Because it was trash,” Tony replied. “And I know you know that it was.” He held Peter’s gaze until the fire in it died down a bit, and waited until Peter dropped his gaze.

Miserably, the younger boy picked at his nails. “I’m gonna fail this course. I’m not smart enough.”

“Don’t say that.” Tony’s voice was sharp. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again; you hear me?”

Silence, then a petulant look.

Something Tony clicked. He reached out, slid a hand through Peter’s soft curls, and tightened his hand into a fist, pulling hard enough for Peter to hiss through his teeth. “I said, you hear me?”

“Yes,” Peter muttered. “Ow! You’re gonna pull my hair out if you don’t—ow, yes! Yes, Daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” Tony eyed Peter for a few more seconds, then let go. “You should start off with the basics. Think of a good hook, but don’t you dare try and make a statement about society or some shit like that. Profs hate it.”

“I can’tttt,” Peter whined. “It just doesn’t work.” He turned to look at Tony with his best puppy eyes. “Maybe you could write it for me.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, honey, hilarious. Now you want to commit an academic offense.”

Peter glared. “This entire essay is an offense! To me! And if you don’t help me, I’m going to fail, Tony. Okay? I’m gonna get a big, fat, ugly zero—”

“You sure you want me to help?” Tony interrupted, a wicked, filthy plan suddenly forming in his mind. He nudged Peter out of his seat and sat down, appraising him, mouth already watering in anticipation. “Because you know I don’t do things for free, sweetheart. You’ll need to pay me back somehow, show me how grateful you are.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that massage you’ve been asking for—”

Tony barked out a laugh that silenced him. He let his hands drop to the buttons on his jeans, enjoying the way Peter’s eyes immediately followed the movement. “Oh, no, no, no, baby. That’s not what I’m asking for.” He pressed the palm of his hand to his dick, and looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Peter immediately said. Tony didn’t miss the way he sounded a little more strained now, eyes still fixed on the tent in Tony’s boxers. “I’ll pay you back.”

Tony smirked, then snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. “Get on your knees, baby boy. I’m writing this whole thing for you and you’re gonna have your mouth stuffed with my cock until I’m done.”

Peter dropped to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and looked up at Tony expectantly, licking his lips.

“You know what I love about you, honey?” Tony drawled, sprawling his legs wide open, enjoying the way Peter immediately leaned closer. He pushed a hand through his hair again and leaned close so that they were nose-to-nose.

Peter tried to kiss him, almost instinctively, and Tony laughed before gently pushing him away. “You’re always so”—Tony yanked his head back harshly with the grip on his hair, eliciting a gasp—“fucking”—A sharp slap to his face, making Peter moan—“grateful.” A caress now, to counter the heat blooming in Peter’s cheek. “Isn’t that right?” He ran the pad of his thumb across Peter’s bottom lip.

Peter stared up at him adoringly in response, eyes wide.

The boy was already completely out of it, Tony noted with amusement. So responsive. Beautiful. He let his thumb brush against his flushed cheeks before sitting back and gesturing to the zipper on his pants.

“Go on, then,” he murmured, watching Peter’s eyes flash eagerly. “I undid the button for you, didn’t I? I think you can do the rest by yourself.” He stopped Peter with a hum when the boy reached out with his hands, and he shook his head. “No, baby. With your teeth.”

Peter swallowed, then obediently wriggled forwards and mouthed at the zipper, trying to get a good grip on it with his mouth.

Tony watched him for a few moments before reaching out to pet his hair as silent encouragement. It took Peter a few more seconds before he managed to pull it down, and Tony grinned when the boy immediately nuzzled closer, mouthing at his cock almost hungrily.

Tony pulled him back a bit before holding a hand out in front of Peter. “Spit.” Once Peter obeyed, he took himself in his hand and stroked in long, lazy motions, not taking his eyes off of the boy for a single moment. After a few minutes, Peter began to make impatient little noises at the back of his throat, just as Tony had expected him to.

“Needy thing,” Tony crooned, then smacked Peter’s face with his dick, making the sub jolt. Peter looked up, eyes glazed over, practically whacked into submission now. “Open up. I wanna see you gagging on it, you hear me? Don’t you dare try and slack off.”

Peter nodded in quick little jerks of his head, mouth falling open immediately at the order.

Tony fed his cock into Peter’s mouth inch by inch, wet and warm and ready for him, until Peter had taken him into his mouth nearly completely. He ran a hand through the sub’s curls, then shifted, feeling his cock hit the back of Peter’s throat, and pulled the laptop closer to him. He felt Peter’s cheeks hollow as he tried to swallow in vain around his cock, and Tony cursed quietly under his breath at the spasm of Peter’s throat.

Right. The essay.

He sucked the inside of his cheek, thinking, before beginning to type.

Biophysics is critical to our understanding of the mechanics of the molecules in our lives, and how complex systems and beings function, which, according to—

Tony stopped when Peter’s cheeks hollowed yet again and he looked down, raising an eyebrow. “You need something?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he shook his head as best as he could, then pulled back to wipe the drool on his chin with the back of his hand. “Just—was just tryin’ to swallow, Daddy.” God, he already sounded wrecked, voice rough and throaty.

“What, embarrassed that you were making a mess of yourself?” Tony chuckled, then shoved his hand into Peter’s hair before yanking him back onto his dick. “Stay. There. Your job is to be the filthy, needy thing you are while being grateful for what I’m giving you. Remember what I said about wanting your mouth to be stuffed with it until I’m done? You think I was joking about that?”

A small whine; Tony gave him the benefit of the doubt because he was feeling generous today and assumed it was a ‘no.’

He went back to work after that, and for the next half hour, the only sounds that filled up the room was his typing and the occasional little noise Peter made, whether it be a small exhale from his nose or an attempted swallow of his throat.

He took the time to finish, then ran through it three times to edit it. After the last run, he finally—finally—looked down at Peter, whose eyes were closed, eyelashes occasionally fluttering with each shallow inhale he took through his nose.

Tony rested his hand on Peter’s head, watching him, then murmured, “Good boy. Get me off now, sweetheart. Show Daddy how good you can be.”

Peter was more than eager to obey, and in less than five minutes, Tony was swearing under his breath, hips canting without his permission, and he could barely stutter out a warning before he came down Peter’s throat.

Peter took it like a champ, swallowing every drop and only pulling off when Tony made him. Panting, he looked up at Tony, eyes wide and teary.

Tony brushed a thumb over his cheek for a few moments, then murmured, “Good boy.”

When Peter reached for his leaking, red cock, Tony snapped sharply, “Ah-ah! What’re you doing? You think you deserve to get off by yourself? No, baby, you have to earn that.”

Peter looked up at him through wet eyelashes. “But I—” He gestured vaguely to Tony.

“What, made me come?” Tony rolled his eyes. “No, sweetheart. That was just you thanking me for writing your essay. All you had to do was drool all over my cock and show me how grateful you were for my generosity. Not exactly a hard feat like, say, writing an essay, is it? Not for a greedy little thing like you, at least.”

Peter stared at him, jaw slack and hanging open.

Tony grinned, and it was mean. “This, though...” He reached down and formed a loose ‘o’ with his hand, stroking Peter’s cock from the base to the head in one easy, smooth motion. “We’ll see about this. Get on the bed.”

Peter immediately scrambled to obey, and Tony’s grin grew.

Oh, he was going to make Peter beg, and enjoy every single moment of it.

__________

A few weeks later, Peter came marching up to Tony’s desk, then slapped down a package of paper.

Tony raised an eyebrow.

Peter jabbed his index finger at the 98%, written and circled in red, at the top of the first page. “My essay,” he said, proudly, making Tony bite back a laugh.

“A ninety-eight,” Tony mused, picking it up and leafing through it. “Not bad, huh?”

“It’s perfect.” Peter maneuvered himself onto his lap, straddling him and mouthing along his neck.

“Two percent away from perfect.” Tony tossed the paper back onto the desk and let his hands drift down to squeeze Peter’s ass, hard enough for his nails to dig in even through the sweatpants. “Should’ve been a hundred. Must’ve lost a mark or two ‘cause your mouth distracted me.”

“Not my fault I’m so good,” Peter chirped.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, good at being a filthy slut.”

Peter ignored him. “Besides, maybe next time you’ll get that hundred for me.”

Grinning, Tony pulled back to look at Peter’s face, then kissed him, wet and hard and sloppy. Peter’s chest was heaving by the time they pulled apart, and he pushed his thumb through his lips and into his mouth, watching him suck languidly for a few moments before saying, “Yeah, baby boy. You’re right. There’s always next time.”

Because they both knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

#starker #tony/peter #tony x peter #ironspider #tonypeter #nff #dom!tony #sub!peter #my fics #sexually motivated academic dishonesty series

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caranfindel · 3 years

Text

Fic: You don’t know how it feels (to be me)

gen, s6 | about 3600 words | pg for language | characters: soulless sam winchester, dean winchester

synopsis: Soulless Sam tries to deal with his brother's feelings about, well, everything. Including his hair. Set in season 6, before "You Can't Handle the Truth."

An idea I had a long time ago, resuscitated by Jared's Walker haircut. The title is from "You Don't Know How It Feels" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

. . . . . .

It's a stupid case.

The manager of the county fairgrounds is a stooped, gnarled old man wearing one of those ball caps veterans wear sometimes. Gold embroidery on the dark blue hat proudly displays the name of his ship or submarine or whatever. Sam doesn't care about his ship or submarine or whatever. He doesn't care about this guy's service at all. Most days, old Blue Hat here got three meals a day and a warm, dry place to sleep in exchange for whatever he gave up. He got a pension when he was done fighting. Sam gets to scrounge for cheap food and sleep in crappy hotels when he's lucky enough to actually land someplace other than the back seat of the Impala. Sam's service to his country earned him a trip to Hell. Sam will get to stop fighting when he's dead. His only pension will be a pyre.

Sam doesn't even get to sleep any more.

(This should bother him. But the truth is, it doesn't.)

Blue Hat frowns at Sam's ID and snorts derisively. "You don't look like a Fed. You look like a goddamn hippie."

He rolls his eyes at the old man, even though he knows Dean hates it when he does that. It's something he didn't do Before, no matter how annoying or insipid the witness. Sam doesn't give a good goddamn what this guy thinks about his hair, but apparently his brother does. "He's been doing some undercover work," Dean says. "Sometimes you've got to look like a goddamn hippie to blend in."

Blue Hat sniffs his disapproval and ignores Sam for the rest of the interview, directing all of his answers to Dean. Which is fine. The old guy doesn't seem to have anything useful to add anyway. Sam leaves his brother to the pointless interview about the stupid case and wanders around the building, taking pictures of the unexplained runes that brought them here. He's bored. The sudden appearance of mysterious runes on the bland metal exterior of a county fairgrounds building feels witchy, and Sam really doesn't care about witches. Two measly deaths, quite possibly from natural causes, and now he's out here standing in cow shit. Or goat shit or pig shit. This entire day has been shit, literally and figuratively.

Dean joins him after a couple of minutes, apparently done with Blue Hat. "What do you think?" he asks.

Sam shrugs. "Too early to tell. If these runes are what Bobby thinks they are, they'll change under moonlight, but moonrise isn't until 9:05 pm."

“Jesus," Dean moans. "I can't stay awake that long. I've already gone almost two days. Let's go back to the motel and crash, and we'll hit this place again tonight."

Or not, Sam wants to say. I think you jumped on this paper-thin excuse for a job just because the alternative was sitting in a motel room with me waiting for an actual case to come up, Sam wants to say. But neither of these are things he would have said Before, and Dean is so goddamn twitchy about Sam being different than Before.

As they turn back to the Impala, Dean glances at Sam with a slight smile. "Dude's not wrong, you know."

“What?"

“You do look like a goddamn hippie." Dean's hand twitches toward Sam, like he's going to smack him on the back of the head or ruffle his hair, but he pulls back without touching him. Because they don't do that now. Casual, good-natured, brotherly contact isn't a thing now. Dean doesn't touch him unless there are injuries involved.

(This is another thing that should bother Sam. It would have, Before.)

. . .

Dean hangs his suit in the closet, sets an alarm, and collapses on top of the covers. Sam stares at his own bed. The threat of spending hours pretending to be asleep makes his skin crawl. If Dean falls asleep quickly enough, he can skip the whole charade.

“Hey, I think I'm gonna shower first," he says.

Dean doesn't open his eyes. "Just don't wake me up when you get out."

In the bathroom, Sam turns on the water but doesn't get undressed. He stands at the mirror, staring at his too-long hair. Why has he bothered to hold onto it? He remembers caring about his hair. He remembers it being a small fuck you to John, the one area in his life where he was able to cling to some autonomy. It's not that he's forgotten about that; he just doesn't give a shit any more.

And like Dean said, Blue Hat wasn't wrong. He does look like a hippie. The hair is a hazard, and it does clash with any kind of law enforcement disguise. Maybe it's time to do something about it. He has time to kill anyway, while Dean sleeps.

(Sam should care that he doesn't need to sleep any more. Dean would definitely care, if he found out. Dean cares so much about any aspect of Sam that is less normal than he thinks it ought to be. Even if it's something that makes him a better hunter. Dean didn't appreciate it when Sam could exorcise demons without killing the host, and Dean wouldn't appreciate that Sam can get so much done when he's not sleeping. He could never understand why this version of Sam is so much better than the way he was Before. It's a shame Dean hasn't discovered the option of Not Caring.)

(Sometimes Sam wonders if getting back with Dean is worth the trouble.)

(And that should bother him too.)

Sam shuts off the shower and pulls out his phone. He needs to find a barber shop in walking distance. Dean will get all pissy if he wakes up and the car is gone; less so if only Sam is missing. Luckily, there's a shop that might still be open. It's one of those ridiculous sports-themed places that presumes men are fussy toddlers who need to be distracted from the ignominy of a hair cut. At least they tend to be staffed by women, and those women tend to be prettier than average. With any luck, he can kill two birds with one stone.

When he opens the bathroom door, Dean is either asleep, or pretending to be. Sam scrawls couldn't sleep, back soon on the motel notepad and closes the door behind him as silently as possible.

(He misses his car. He didn't have an emotional attachment to it, like Dean and the Impala, but it was convenient and it suited him.)

(He doesn't actually have an emotional attachment to anything. That should bother him.)

. . .

Two stylists, both predictably prettier than average, look up when he walks in. The redhead says "sorry, sir, we're just about to close up," and continues sweeping up hair trimmings. But the brunette looks him up and down and smiles. And Sam's partial to brunettes anyway.

He gives her a once-over in return and smiles back. "Do you have time for just a quick cut? I'd be eternally grateful."

She stares at him for a minute, appraising. "Well, how could I turn down an offer of eternal gratefulness?" she says with a wink. She turns to the redhead. "Why don't you go on home. I've got this."

The redhead dumps her clippings into a trash can. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. You mind locking the door behind you? I don't want any more last-minute customers walking in."

The redhead raises her eyebrows, but gathers her purse and jacket and makes her escape as Sam settles into the brunette's chair.

“I'm Marianne," she says, as she starts to drape a cape over his shoulders.

“I'm Sam. But listen. I get too hot under those capes. Would it be okay if we skip it? And I just take my shirt off so I don't get hair all over it?"

Marianne smiles like the cat who caught the canary. "Not a problem, sweetheart."

Sam slips out of his dress shirt and drapes it over the empty chair next to him. Marianne watches him the whole time, eyes roving over the muscles exposed by his snug white undershirt. It's like shooting fish in a barrel.

He sits back in the chair and Marianne stands behind him. Her chest brushes against his shoulders. "So," she asks, "what are we doing today?"

“Shorter. Off my collar, above my ears."

She slips her fingers through his hair, measuring its length. "You sure? This length looks pretty good on you. Just needs to be cleaned up a bit."

“It's for a job. The long hair doesn't fly any more."

“Aw, that's a shame." Marianne's still running her fingers through his hair. "If you've got a lady in your life, I bet she'll miss it. A girl likes something to hold onto."

Well. The best lies are based on a kernel of truth. Sam looks into his lap and lets his smile go sad and soft. "That's kind of why I'm here. My girlfriend died and I thought I'd try to start over. New place, new job, new life. But yeah, that's always been one of my favorite things. A girl grabbing my hair in the heat of the moment. I should have tried to find someone to do that one more time before I had to cut it off."

Marianne leans forward, pressing her breasts harder against him. When he looks up, she meets his eyes in the mirror, then flicks a glance toward a door marked Employees Only. “You know," she says, "that could probably be arranged."

Seriously. Fish in a goddamn barrel.

. . .

Dean's awake when Sam gets back to the motel room, but he doesn't look up from the laptop. "Couldn't sleep?"

“I guess I napped a little in the car on the way down here," Sam lies. "And then, you know, a lot of caffeine this morning."

“Whatever. I'm not the sleep police. I hope you brought food, cause I could —" Dean looks at Sam and stops mid-sentence, mouth still open. "You cut your hair?"

“Yeah."

“Why?"

“What do you mean, why? Like old what's-his-face said, I looked like a hippie, not an FBI agent. And you've been telling me to cut it for years."

“Yeah, I have. I've been saying that for years and you've been ignoring me for years. Now some random witness calls you a hippie and you go running to Supercuts?"

Sam sighs. Dean may not be the sleep police, but he's awfully eager to step in as the hair police, enforcing his own set of laws about Sam's hair. "Why does it matter? You wanted me to cut it. Everyone wanted me to cut it. And I cut it. Can we move on now?"

It's a statement almost guaranteed to make Dean bow up in anger, but instead, he deflates. "It's just… nothing. Fine. Moving on." He closes the laptop and pulls his keys out of his coat pocket. "We've still got an hour or so before moonrise. I'm gonna go run through McDonald's. You want a chicken sandwich, or is that something else you're not interested in any more?"

Jesus Christ. This is what passes for moving on. But Sam needs that shower now, and none of this is worth arguing about.

(Few things are any more. That seems like it should matter.)

“Yeah, that sounds great, thanks."

By the time Dean gets back, the sandwich is cold and the ice in Sam's drink is mostly melted. He pretends to enjoy it anyway.

. . .

Their drive back to the fairgrounds is quiet. Dean occasionally steals an unhappy glance at Sam's hair, but doesn't say anything. Sam ignores it.

They pull into the parking lot in front of the marked building. Without even getting out of the car, they can see that the runes have changed. The broad strokes are softly luminescent, glowing a pale blue in the moonlight.

“Okay, so that answers that question," Sam says. Thank God. Now they can leave without wandering around the grounds, soaking up the barnyard smell again. Wrap this up and start working on something more important. But Dean gets out of the car and looks at Sam expectantly. Well, crap. Sam dutifully follows him closer to the building and tries to think of how he would have felt about this development Before.

“Cool," he says. Dean narrows his eyes at him. "I mean, cool that our theory was right. Not, you know, cool that someone is using this kind of spellwork to make sure their pig wins a blue ribbon at the fair. That part's… pretty awful." But Dean's still looking at him funny, so he probably overcorrected on that one. It's just hard, any more.

Dean rubs the back of his neck as he examines the glowing runes. "If that's all they're doing, more power to them. I couldn't care less. But we need to make sure that's all they're doing. I mean, people died, Sam. We need to figure out if this is why." He pulls out his phone. "Gonna take some pictures to send Bobby." There's no reason to remind him they already have pictures. If Dean thinks additional pictures are more effective and efficient than "just like this, but glowing blue," that's up to him. Sam will most likely solve the damn case later tonight anyway, while Dean sleeps.

And he almost does. Dean knocks back a couple of glasses of whiskey when they get back to the motel, and falls asleep pretty soon after that. Sam doesn't bother to feign sleep — Dean doesn't seem to care, right now, whether his brother gets any sleep or not. But when Sam realizes his own photos missed a crucial corner of the building, he opens his brother's phone and finds his last text to Bobby. There's only one picture, and it's not glowing runes. It's him. Just a dark, slightly blurry picture of Sam, obviously taken earlier that night at the fairgrounds. And a text conversation.

See, I told you, it's short. I don't know what's going on. I swear he's just different.

Yeah, I get it. It's different. He's different. But what'd you expect? Of course he's not the same as he was. Hell changed him.

It didn't change me this much.

His Hell wasn't the same as yours. I know it didn't last very long, but remember, he was in the cage with the devil. We don't know what happened to him in there. Give him some time.

Well. Fuck. Dean's talking about him behind his back. Dean doesn't trust him. Dean thinks, once again, that something is wrong with him.

(That would have hurt, Before. Now it's just an annoyance. A distraction. Something to be dealt with.)

Yes, Hell changed him. Hell burned away all the crap, all the useless feelings, the guilt and shame and fear of failure. Hell purified him. Hell carved out the weakness and left nothing but pure, strong hunter. Dean, of all people, should appreciate the result. But Dean does not, and now Sam has to cater to his tiresome attachment to everything Sam was Before.

Fine. He can make that work.

Sam quietly puts Dean's phone back on the nightstand. He strips down to boxers and his t-shirt, sets an alarm, and crawls into bed. Pretending to sleep is tedious, but a couple of hours of boredom right now might spare him weeks of Dean's moodiness about him being different.

(As if Hell could leave you untouched. As if anyone in their right mind would expect that. As if Dean himself didn't know this first hand, for fuck's sake.)

. . .

Sam spends the next day focusing on acting the way he did Before. When his alarm goes off he stretches, yawns, and pretends he had a good night's sleep. He goes for a run, brings back coffee, showers quickly, and rolls his eyes when Dean makes a crack about him being able to spend less time in the shower now. At breakfast, he smiles at the (cute, definitely worth a bang) waitress, but doesn't flirt or even check her out as she walks away. He's figured out that Dean wants Sam to want to get laid (but not too much; he's definitely not supposed to want it as much as Dean wants it) but for some reason doesn't want him to actually get lucky. And he definitely would have gotten lucky. He spends the day looking empathetic, acting like this whole thing hasn't been a colossal waste of time. Like he cares about everything. About anything.

(God, it's exhausting.)

It turns out the deaths probably don't have anything to do with the witch at all. They return to the fairgrounds one last time, where Sam plants hex bags and paints runes on the corners of the building that will block the witch's simple spells - not that he cares whether the witch achieves anything or not, just on principle. His own runes are small and subtle enough that this novice witch (they must be a novice; no one with any experience would be naive enough to make their work so noticeable) won't even know they're in place. And if the witch escalates, well, that's not exactly Sam's problem.

When he's finished, he wipes his hands on his jeans and says "We should get Chinese for dinner. When's the last time you ate a vegetable?" Because monitoring everyone's vegetable intake is something he did Before.

They're finishing Chinese takeout in their motel room (beef with broccoli for Dean, eggplant in garlic sauce for Sam, because occasional bouts of vegetarianism were also a thing he did Before) when he catches Dean looking at his hair, very clearly wanting to say something.

So. It's go time.

Sam tries to make his eyes big and sad. The puppy dog look, Dean always called it. It was never intentional Before, but now he has to work at it. "Listen," he says. "I owe you an apology. I haven't been telling you the whole truth."

“No shit," Dean says. He's trying to sound nonchalant, but his body language screams that he's bracing for something. "So, spill it. What's your big confession?"

(That I don't care about any of this. This piddly little case. My hair. You. Nothing. And you can't imagine, Dean, you cannot even begin to imagine the incredible freedom of not caring. I wish you could, but you just can't.)

No, he can't say any of that. But the best lies are built on a kernel of truth.

Sam takes a deep, anxious breath and looks at Dean. No, wait. Look away. "You know, I told you I don't remember Hell. And I really don't. Not consciously, anyway. But when we were fighting those demons a couple of weeks ago, one of them grabbed me by the hair, and I felt something… it was a sense memory, I guess. It felt like Hell, for some reason. Like it was something that happened to me in Hell, someone grabbing my hair and pulling my head back and getting ready to cut my throat or… whatever."

He doesn't have to elaborate on whatever. Dean knows the whatevers of Hell better than anyone. He's probably dealing with a little sense memory of his own right now, of clutching someone's hair and pulling their head back in preparation for whatever. And now Sam does look at his brother, who is staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“Ever since then," Sam continues, "I just feel like I've been on the verge of remembering something. Something I don't want to remember. And I'm tired of worrying that I'm gonna have a Hell flashback every time I wash my hair."

Dean looks like he's going to vomit. Perfect.

“I'm sorry," Sam says. "It threw me, and I just didn't want to talk about it. But I shouldn't have kept it from you."

For a second, he's sure he has gone too far. Dean is going to say what's this bullshit, Sam, you would never apologize for something like that, so tell me what's really going on. But he doesn't. He stares at Sam for a minute, then looks away and wipes a hand down his face.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. You, ah. You good now? Is it working?"

Sam shrugs. "Hard to say. It hasn't been very long. But yeah, I feel a little more… stable, I guess."

And then it’s time to go for the kill.

Sam gives him the sad smile. (He never used to think of it as a sad smile; never used to think of it as anything at all. It was just what his face did. Every expression requires so much thought now.) "Listen. I know things are weird. I know I'm weird. Different. I know it's hard for you. If this is all more than you want to deal with right now, I understand."

Dean frowns. "What are you saying?"

“Just, I can go back with Samuel and his crew if you don't want to do this any more. You and me, I mean. No hard feelings, I promise."

Dean's face crumples. "What? No, fuck, no, Sam. I don't. You and me, we're good. I'm just getting used to things. That's all."

“Okay." Sam gives his best approximation of a grateful smile.

“So. Uh." Dean looks around the room nervously, like he's waiting for the other shoe to fall, then stands. "I think I'm gonna go get a drink. You wanna come with, or…"

Even if Sam believed Dean really wanted him to come along — and he doesn't; this is obviously Dean's way of retreating from a situation he doesn't want to think about — pretending to sleep when Dean's gone is one of the easier ways of making it look like he actually does sleep sometimes. "No. I'm beat," he says. "I think I'll just go to bed."

“Okay. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea." Dean takes his keys out of his pocket and anxiously tosses them in his hand. When he finally does turn to Sam, he looks at his hair, not his eyes. "Hey, you know, it does. It does look good on you."

Sam ducks his head shyly, like someone who's not used to praise. Who doesn't think he deserves it. "Thanks." When he looks up, Dean is already halfway out the door, putting as much space between himself and his little brother's hellscape as possible.

(Seriously. Fish in a fucking barrel.)

#my fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #soulless sam is my spirit animal #spn #season 6

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itscuppicakes · 4 years

Text

This is something I put together bc haha toxic parents go brrrr

Donnie X Reader: Gaslighting parents

TW: emotionally abusive parents, vent, cursing

You sat on your bed, writing whatever thinks came into your mind. Your trash can halfway full of crumbled up papers with run on sentences and imperfect writings.

"You're just looking for things to be mad about!"

Those words flooded your mind, like waves from the oceans trying to fit into a single water bottle.

You always felt like you were overreacting over something that hurt you, but this was different.

You don't know if it was because you've been visiting your sister a lot more, or maybe it's the trama that took away that innocent thought that your mother is always right, making you realize that your feels are vaild.

You were talking to your mom about a character from a story that you liked, and pulling a joke about how you where falling for characters that are not anywhere near your type.

"You DO know that they're fictional, right?" Those words fell out of her mouth and into your ears, and it felt horrible.

Your mother always asked this question when you talked about the characters you admired, and this was the last straw.

"Yes, mom. I promise you, I'm not crazy," I chuckled awkwardly, trying to play it off. That didn't go so well.

"I never said that! Don't put words in my mouth, little girl."

You hated when she called you that, acting like she's always in the right. She's the good guy.

'God f*cking damnit,' You thought.

"Well Mom, that kinda hurt my feelings."

The woman scoffed, "Okay." She uttered, continuing to play her game on her cellphone.

You look over at your stepfather mom's husband, and he chuckled. 'Enjoying the show, A-hole?'

You stood up and headed to your bedroom to blow of some steam in peace. You weren't in the mood today.

"I love you." Those guilt tripping words stung like a bee, but the bee would be paradise compared to this.

"You too." You forced the words out of your mouth and they fell face flat onto the carpet.

"Are you mad at me now?" She asked in a snarky manner. You turned around, and looked at her.

"WELL, Mom. Yes I am, I'm not gonna lie."

"Ugh, you're just looking for things to be mad about!"

"Okay, mom. Whatever." You walked to your bedroom upstair and closed the door.

You grabbed your phone and texted your purple-wearing-turtle boyfriend. Your fingers scattered across the keyboard, trying to put together words that don't come across as rude.

He responded quickly, as usual.

"Ofc. Want me to pick you up?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay,, I'll be there in exactly 8 minutes and 23 seconds."

"Thanks, Dee. Love you, see you in a few💜"

"You too, Babe."

You tried to act as subtle as possible, trying not to make him worry, but Donnie knew something was up.

8 minutes and 23 seconds after you texted him, you heard a knock on your window. You opened it and saw your boyfriend standing on the fire escape with a hoodie on and his hands in his kangaroo pocket.

Snow was everywhere from the snow storm New York had the night before. The cool air was creeping into your bedroom, sending chills down your spine.

"You called?" You sighed. "Hi, Babe," you mumbled as you get your laptop from it's charging port and stuffed it in your dufflebag, which was full of clothes for the night and tomorrow.

"You wanna talk about it or want to wait until we get to the lair?"

You paused for a second and continued packing. "Just get me the f*ck away from this hellhole."

"Okay." Donnie knew when to push and when to not push, and you cussing and face red gave him the idea of what not to do.

He kisses your head to comfort you, grabbed your hand and helped you out of the window so you won't fall.

A few minutes have passed and he had his arm around your shoulders as you two walked the back strets of the city. You played with his digits, lost in thought.

"Did you eat before I got you?" "..Didn't want to down there." "Okay, we'll order something from somewhere and take it home. It's my turn to get dinner anyways."

"I want to never go back there.."

"I know, Babe."

Donnie knew about your situation at home. All of the Mad Dogs did. They really hated your parents for it.

You are the sweetest person and you never want to hurt others that didn't hurt you. But oh god, you counted the days until you could move in with April in the apartment you two are saving up for.

Your boyfriend has been taking you away from your apartment more and more, and it hurts him to see you like this.

"She tried to gaslight me again."

"Why does that not surprise me? What did she say?"

You sighed, recalling the argument. After you tell him, he rubs your small hand that's in his.

"So you were just making friendly conversation and when she said something that offended you, she got mad at you for telling her your feelings?"

"Yep." "She's the crazy person." "What else is new?"

"I'm so f*cking tired of all this bullsh*t, Donnie. I'm so stressed because I have exams tomorrow, and the past two weeks have drained me. I'm tired, I have bags under my eyes and I'm not eating properly. Hell, I'll be lucky if I get a glass of water in me."

He hated seeing you like this. He wanted to help you, but he can't just tell your parents off. He's a turtle and they don't even know that you a boyfriend.

"Have you called your sister?" "She said I can come over next week." "Good."

Once you two ordered the food for everyone, you started to walk in the sewers.

"Hey, Y/n?" "Hm," you hummed as you eat the mcflurry Donnie and you are sharing. "Do you know one of the things I love about you," He asked as he ate a fry covered in ice cream at the end. "Don't get sappy with me, Purple." "Shut up, I'm giving you a compliment." He said in his monotone voice, ignoring your annoyance. "It's that you keep fighting through this. You go through the bullsh*t they put you through eveyday and yet you're still here. You're a fighter."

You blushed and looked at you turtle boyfriend. "I do that because you and the guys are there for me. And plus the day I move out, I plan on giving my mom and her husband an earful." Donnie chuckled.

He lifted your chin and kissed you. He never really kissed you in public place, let alone the entrance of the lair.

He didn't care if his brothers saw. You needed it.

"I love you, Babe." "Love you too, Dee."

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donnie x reader #tmnt #rottmnt donatello #donatello

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oh-roman · 4 years

Text

It's You

read part five

part VI.

"I hate you," Bill's wife cries, trying to escape Bill’s tickling fingers.

"Mmhm, sure you do," Bill beckoned, watching a smile pull at her lips, before leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. "Atta' girl," He huffs. "Give daddy some sugar," Except she only playfully rolls her eyes and sits up on the bed to pull her laptop onto her thighs.

Bill and Jade were high school sweethearts --and to their knowledge, they'd followed the perfect life plan.

Try not to get teary-eyed; their story's so cute it might make you sad how it ends.

So, it was all so unintentional how they fell in love, because well, Jade was never the type of girl Bill was interesting in, in high school.

He was quite picky about his girls (and still is).

Bill liked them confident, but not too cocky. He had a thing for plaid mini skirts and thigh highs, a fetish for lip gloss and those fishnet stockings the girls wore. Open toed shoes were cute, but only the kind that had a heel and straps. And God, did he love girls with brown eyes - - - the big doe eyes that made your heart swell.

Except Jade wasn't that profile at all. And for some odd reason, it attracted him to her even more. So, one day, mid-sophomore year in History, Bill sits down next to this girl--dressed like someone’s mom--and says. . .well he doesn't say anything. He just stares at her until she waves her hand in front of his face. She made him unbearably nervous and that's the moment, he knew he'd have to stick with her. Thank God for his persistent personality too, because he popped the question just a few questions after they’d graduated high school.

It was quite beautiful actually. They were young and crazy about one another, but young love only does so much. It’s an innocent flame and well, it only flickers for so long. It’s naive and overpoweringly emotional, so when Bill began to fall out of love with her, he didn’t say anything, in hopes of that burning fire coming back.

Although, it never really did and falling for Y/N wasn't much help.

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his wife, although he couldn't stand the thought of breaking Y/N’s heart either. The more he loved, the more it hurt.

“Baby I've been meaning to ask you," Jade asks.

"Hm," he hums, running a hand through his hair. "What's that,"

"How's it been going with that girl Y/N," And he pauses. Speak of the fucking devil. He swallows thickly and tries to find some sort of composure. He sits up a bit and thumbs over his own bottom lip; a bad habit he has when he's uncomfortable. "Oh, y'know--it's been great--she's. . .smart," Nodding along with him, Jade raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t think much of it.

“That’s good,” She says, moving her laptop out of the way and lying her head on Bill’s bare chest. “Now, c'mere," Resting a hand on his thigh, she taps her fingers a little, gesturing for him to cuddle her.

Bill huffs a little and kisses her forehead. Jade smiles at the feeling. And you can't blame her. The feeling is indescribable--her head against his chest, feeling the steady vibration of his heartbeat, moving in-beat with his fingertips lazily running up her arm. With the dim light peeking through the window drapes, it's wonderful. So good, sometimes she can't see herself ever lying on these sheets without her. "Love you," she exhales, lazily closing her eyes.

He just wishes he felt the same way.

And Jade, she wishes he felt that way too.

He hasn't kissed her lips (and I mean really kissed her) in weeks now, unless the neighbors are watching.

And she just stays quiet, like she always is. She's a romantic and well, it comes with its own heartache, because she sees when he's smiling at phone, or blushing when he's getting all ready for work in the morning and she can't help but wonder why he's wearing his good cuff links (the Gucci ones he wore to his wedding) to go teach a bunch of college students about business management. Or, why he's all of a sudden taken such keen interest in the random girl next door. Or, last week when Jade was taking the trash out, she watched the same girl in his car, leaning awfully close to him.

No.

Jade's cried enough about it. Plus, Bill's a messy eater. Y/N was probably just picking a piece of lettuce of of his shirt (or chin?). Surely that's why. Well, it's the only logical explanation she thinks.

"Not with the girl next door. . .If he ever were to. . .she'd be older," Jade thinks. "Right?"

It's all a pressing matter and Jade has to push those thoughts out if her brain, for the sake of her marriage--or whatever remains from it.

Pressing a longing kiss right under eye, Bill closes his eyes too. He's never been big on religion, but he's praying now. For some sort of revelation; some sort of direction on what he should do.

And he lies there for what feels like forever, contemplating everything. Just as a Jade is, before drifting off to sleep.

Then, Bill understands.

It's scary almost how fast he's realized it and for a moment he snaps his eyes open and blinks a few times. Jade's snoring a little on his chest, arm draped around his stomach.

She's the one. She has to be.

He's careful when he moves her arm out of the way, quietly stepping off toward their bathroom. He's watching Jade from the doorway, slightly moving around a little, probably wondering where his body's gone. It's precious actually. That's why he has to do this--and fast. So, he doesn't hurt anyone too badly.

The light from a Bill's phone lights up a little and he's typing away--deleting and rephrasing almost everything, afraid of what she'll think. Y/N always has him feeling like a teenager. Adrenaline pumping and hand sweating. He's staring at the words on the screen, thinking of everything she could possibly think before finally fuck it pressing send.

He stuffs his phone in the pockets of sweatpants and runs both hands down his face in a tired way, before gripping the bathroom counter and starring himself in the mirror. "Christ," he thinks. "She's gonna kill me,"

"Billy," Jade cries out and his head whips toward their bedroom. Her arm's falling off the mattress. "Come back to bed baby," And he takes one last look at himself before sighing and flicking the light switch off. "I'm comin' sweetheart,"

The story never ends though. Unfortunately, some things just don't work out. Divorce is tricky. Bill's parents are still married. Fifty years going strong and well, a broken family was never what he sought out for himself. So, he makes sure to hold Jade extra close now, breathing in the scent of her vanilla soap on her skin. "Bunny," he whispers.

Her eyes flutter open and she looks up at him with a hint of desperation. "I'm sorry," is all he says and she immediately understands what he's referring to. "I love you too,"

Running his tongue across his bottom lip, Bill, holds her chin, moving it up a little, before caressing her lips with his. "Now," he says, swiping his thumb across the smile on her lips. "Get some sleep,"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Monday blues are a myth, Y/N thinks.

Because she feels absolutely great.

Class isn't until 11:30am, but she's applying a face masque at 8am, just cause. Some song by LANY is playing through her speaker and she's swaying her hips a little. Craziest thing is, she didn't even wake up this early with an alarm. Her phone died some time before she went to bed, so now she's just waiting for it charge some.

Her body just decided to wake up at the crack of dawn she guesses. Although, her dream was pretty eventful to say the least.

She remembers being in a car. A really old fashion 50's model (maybe a Cadillac) and in the dream she's wearing cat-eye glasses and a silk Chanel scarf around her neck, the tail blowing the wind. And she's in the passenger seat because, Bill's doing all the driving and he's dressed like a proper James Bond.

You know when the dream was so good, your brain won't let you forget it? Well, he kisses her right before she wakes up and somehow, she still feels his lips on her's.

Her thoughts are interrupted by her phone vibrating and she nearly leaps up and down like a child when she sees a message from Bill.

Except. . .

Wha-

Oh my god.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tagged

@the-lonelyon3 @tinygayfungi @loveforbillskasgard @glxtter-dew @bringmebandimagines @shipping-not-sailing @lmayre17 @bill-istvan @skaryboybill @deathbyarabbit @pennywise-trashcan @guess-what-i-dont-know @skarswhat @hrhduchessofclarence

#bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard #comment!#AHHHHH #its you

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sinfulbrothers · 4 years

Text

You got the letter I sent you a few weeks back.

I have to admit I didn't expect you wouldn't receive it, I had a demon drop it off to wherever the hell you were staying at.

I imagine it's a crappy motel with shitty TV stations, ones we used to stay at all the time when we were kids.

Remember when dad would get angry every-time he came back to the motel room and see we were up sleeping? Remember that?

He'll he'd probably still yell at us for being such fuck ups.

You can ignore my texts and calls as much as you want Dean.

But we both know you have to come home sometime.

I'm getting tired of this cat and mouse routine.

I hunt you down, you run off to god knows where and then I'm stuck trying to find you again.

But I have a feeling I won't be the cat for long.

-Sammy W.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Three more calls and four texts, he still hasn't picked up," The youngest winchester glanced over at the male across the table. Castiel sat there hands resting on the table looking over pictures from different traffic lights, cameras and whatever else he could find. "The son of a bitch thinks this is some sort of game. Anything, Cas?" He raised an eyebrow at the used to be Angel.

The male shook his head, "It is just the same old stuff, Sam. No clue of where Dean would be hiding out. The only person that knows where Dean is hiding would be Crowley. And he and I aren't on the best of terms.." He made quotations around the word 'terms' and 'best'. He still really wasn't the best at English. "Maybe we should wait until there is a police report on a Chevy Impala. On baby."

Sam shifted in his seat frowning, "Dean is smart enough to not get caught doing something illegal in baby. If there was a police report it would be at some bar or store. Like the gas station that was robbed." He slid his laptop over to the male, "Check out some things while I go on a run. There isn't much you need to know about computers." He smiled softly sliding his phone into his pocket, heading out to his '65 mustang, light blue. A beautiful car. He jumped in and he was off to the nearest store.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A familiar '65 mustang pulled into the Save-A-Lot parking lot, he couldn't help but smirk. Seeing his big bulky dork of a brother climb out of the drivers seat. It was a wonder how he fit his big moose ass in there. The car was shorter than Sam was tall. He snorted sitting back in the drivers seat of the impala, hands on the steering wheel. "Here Sammy Sammy Sammy." He whispered whistling, pushing the drivers seat door open he climbed out. Cracking his knuckles following up behind his brother. Wrapping an arm around Sam's neck yanking him to the ground with inhuman strength.

"De--" Was all the young winchester got out before the lights went out for him. Dean lugged the tall male over to the impala, throwing him in the back seat among the other beer bottles and trash.

——————————————-

"Wakey, wakey, Sammy."

"You wanted your big bro back, well you got 'em."

"Sam."

"Sammy."

"SAMANTHA."

Sam's eyes shot open, his ears ringing, what the hell? A frown plastered on his lips as he tried to sit up, a force was holding him down. He heard it again, "Sammy." That was Dean's voice, what the hell was going on? Wasn't he supposed to be at the shopping center? "Aww look Sammy is confused again. How cute. Let's cut to the chase," The eldest winchester spoke up, his voice rough like a rocky road. He came walking out of the corner of the motel room swinging a baseball bat. Twirling it and throwing it in the air, only to catch it again. "You," He pointed the bat at Sam, poking his nose with it lightly. Sam pushed it away giving his demon brother a face.

"Need to stop looking for you. Yeah I caught the jiff." Sam stood up brushing his brown hair back out of his face.

Crack.

Dean swung the bat, smacking Sam right in the shin. For a second Dean swore the bat had snapped, then he realized it was Sam's shin. "Sit down." He growled at his younger sibling. Sam obeyed. "Obey like the good dog you are. Isn't that right, Sammy?" He chuckled, gripping the baseball bat tight. "You either stop looking for me or I'll put you down right where you stand, got that? I won't hesitate to tear your pretty little head off with my teeth. Bet it'll taste real good. Have some actual freedom from all this hell around ya, Sammy." He winked at his brother.

"But Dea--"

Crack.

"Fuck! Stop hitting me with the damn bat!" Sam cursed loudly attempting to take the thing from Dean, it was a lousy attempt but at least he tried to do something. "I'll fucking stop looking for you. Just tell me one thing...why are you doing this? These crimes? The killings."

"The killings? Those are all angels. All 14 of 'em. Of course we aren't counting the humans, right?" Sam didn't even recognize his brother behind that wolffish grin. His gaze dropped to the floor shuddering in major discomfort. "Crowley sent a few demons to try to take me out. Not even the king can contain this beast." Sam opened his mouth to speak, "Ahh except..you have a body behind your little adventure. The man you made sell his soul so you could find me. Naughty naughty sammy. Put him through that and he still gets killed, just sooner. Oh by the way...tell angel wings I said hi."

Dean swung the bat hard.

"Fucking Hell that's gonna leave a nice bruise."

———————————-

He awoke to a dog sniffing at his jeans and clawing at his jacket, attempting to locate anything edible on him. Or maybe it was getting ready to eat his face off. It didn't need to happen either way. Sam shoved the creature to the side earning a Yelp/Whimper from the creature as it bolted down the alleyway and out into the streets. An on coming car stated, 'Stupid animals! Should all be killed!' Speeding by the creature. People had no respect for these animals, or much of anything in that matter. He pushed up sitting up against the wall, yanking his phone out of his pocket, "Cas? Yea. I need a ride back to the bunker. Think I'm by the barber shop and the tattoo parlor east of the grocery store. Yep..it was Dean. No he didn't say anything about you. He did break my shin. Just..get here as soon as you can." He sighed shutting the phone tossing it across the alley way.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

"They have towed your car away," Was the first thing the used-to-be-Angel said to the male, helping him up to the car. "You will have to get it another time we need to get back to the bunker. There is something you need to see. It's important." Cas walked around the other side of the car jumping in the drivers seat, starting up the piece of crap he began driving off in the direction of home. But it wasn't home for Sam. Not without his brother. His brother was his home and would always be.

"So what's this thing and why is it so important?" He raised an eyebrow staring Castiel down.

The Angel sighed gripping the wheel loosely as he leaned back getting comfortable, "It's Dean. He was by the bunker while you were out. This was after I was told to look up things on the inter webs. The bunker door flew open and before I knew it I was on the floor. He took something from your room but I cannot figure out what." He sighed heavily, frowning immensely, "I was thinking it was some books...or maybe the tracker you had put on him.."

"The only thing in my room was papers and books, he would've had to taken some books. If not then..pictures? That wouldn't make any sense." He shook his head staring out the window, wincing. "We'll figure it out later. Right now I need to get my leg fixed up. Can't do anything on a broken bone."

"Alright. I will get the supplies while you stay put." Cas climbed out helping Sam down into the bunker, making sure he stayed sitting down before wandering off to gather some supplies.

Sam fiddled with the loose pieces of paper on the table, sliding them over the edge watching them float down to the floor. Something he would do as a kid, watch paper float down to the floor. It didn't sound fun and it wasn't. Sam chuckled remembering when Dean got angry when Sam would cover the motel room in paper. The crinkling noise always annoyed the shit out of Dean. He slid another paper across the wooden surface, catching it right before it fell.

'I sure enjoy your love letters, Sam. But has anyone told you you're not my type? Tall and lengthy isn't my thing. By the time you read this I'm sure I already broke one of your legs. Told you to leave me alone and then you're back here planning something again. As usual. For every time I catch glimpse of you I'll kill someone. Child, adult, elderly. I'll kill them. This is a warning. One slip up and someone is going ten feet under. Oh..I left a bit of a surprise under your pillow. Hope you enjoy it. It seems you need a girlfriend if you catch my drift little brother.'

He really didn't even want to know what Dean had left him under his pillow, probably some sex toy. He shuddered quickly shoving the paper into his pocket. "Find everything okay?" When Castiel nodded he smiled softly, sliding his pants leg up, hoisting his injured leg up onto the table. "I was thinking, maybe we can take a break for a bit. Let Dean cool off before we try to find him again. He seemed pretty pissed off. Sure the mark is the cause of that but Dean sort of always has his panties in a bunch."

The Angel simply nodded, "Okay." After that the room remained silent.

—————————————————

He had the right plan, all he needed was for Sam to take the bait. Hell he wished he would've stuck with killing people, been more fun and the police would've been involved. Sure they were a pain in the ass but still. He found it funny as hell to watch Sam struggle to get around the cops when they got suspicious of him asking "too" many questions. Whatever the hell that meant.

Dean brushed a hand through his ever so growing hair, sitting back in the bar stool. Sam had just found the the toy his older brother had left him. "Get a girlfriend," Dean scowled taking a long gulp of beer, spinning in his chair and sliding off. He pushed by a few customers walking out, climbing into his "baby" he drove off.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

Fool me once

Shame on you

Fool me twice

You're probably dead

He was correct about Sam, the man really was trying to locate him again like the crazed idiot he was. Damn. Dean threw the impala door open walking over to his brother gripping his shoulder tight, a faint crack starting. "Whatcha doing Sammy? Looking for me again? Did you not get my letter? Man I know I'm not good with the whole pen pals thing.." He sighed heavily cracking Sam upside the head, sending him stumbling into the side of the tow truck building. Sam felt a hand wrap around his throat, then black eyes meeting his. "You won't stop until I'm back, guessing that means I have to kill ya."

Sam's vision darkened as the grip on his throat tightened, then everything went black.

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sungieskies · 5 years

Text

Demons - I

Demon! Gang! AU

A collab story with @doubleknot42

Summary; lee miso tries to summon a demon, summons an asshole.

Genre; Angst, fluff?

Warnings; cussing, violence

Words; 1.3k

A/N; this is written in second person but when the main character is addressed she will be addressed with The name Lee Miso.

You sat down on your bed, sighing as ypu looked at the book in front of me. It was a book on Demons, you knew it wouldn't do anything but wanted to try and summon a demon. You open the book to the page with the spell on it and read it over before grabbing the candles you needed. You grab your lighter and lit all 5 candles before setting them up correctly.

Once everything was set up, you looked back down to the book. You sigh gently before chanting the spell (Im lazy so I'm not putting a spell 😂). You squeaked as all the candles suddenly went out and ypur mirror cracked. You closed your eyes after seeing everything happen and sat there shaking. You thought nothing was going to happen so when something did, your bad bitch persona left and you looked like a scared puppy instead.

You opened your eyes once all the noises stopped, thinking everything had died down. You were wrong as right in front of you stood a male in all black, glaring down at you. "You summon me and then act like a child, god I hate people like you. 'Lets summon a demon. This will be fun' well sweetheart i have something to tell you, this isn't fun for me. You are interrupting my damn work." The male spoke, his voice deep and dark. You sat there dumbfounded as you had actually summoned a demon and the first thing put of the demons mouth is trash talk.

You slowly stood up and looked at him before making the bold move to try and touch him. The male tsked and teleported away to a corner of your room. "Don't fucking touch me..." He growled out. "I'll send you to hell if you do.." You roll your eyes before trying to touch him once again. You push against his chest gently before squealing as he grabbed you roughly and threw you to the ground, growling as he did. "Look Princess, learn to listen and shit doesn't happen to you" he spoke before putting his hand around your neck and gripping tightly. You choke and cough, trying to get air. You cry out and scratch at his arms, cutting into him. He hisses and pulls away as he holds his bleeding arm "why the fuck are your nails so sharp..." He says as you get on your knees, coughing and gasping. "You owe me your soul...or I'm killing you." He growled out. You nodded, not even thinking about what he said since you were still light headed.

He laughed at you "stupid girl...you are now owned by a demon..." He said as he gripped your hair and started whispering something but you passd put before hearing it all. You woke up and looked around, you were in your room but something felt off. The mirror was fixed, your closet was suddenly full of nothing but black and white clothes and you felt empty. You got up and walked to the door, going to open it. Once it was open You were greeted by unfamiliar faces. One of them came up to you, he looked familiar and then you saw the bandages on his arms. He was the one from your room, the one who almost killed you. You instictivly back away from him, trying to go back into the room you just came from but the door didn't want to open. He got closer and close to you and eventually you could feel his breath against your cheek. You whimpered and started shaking as you were finally scared of him.

"So it really takes me dragging you to hell for you to be terrified of me? Pathetic..." He spits out before grabing your arm. You scream before feeling a hand hit your mouth and cover it "shut it..." He growls. He then pushes You back into the room and to the bed. "You stay in here...no body knows you-" he was cut off by another male, skinny and much taller than the one infront of you. "Changbin who the hell is this? Why do we have a human here?" The taller one asks. "Goddamnit..hyunjin just leave. Now!" The one holding you to the bed, now known as Changbin, yells out. You watch then scared and your shaking never stopped. As Changbin turned his head, you were passed out once again. He sighs and leaves the room to deal with Hyunjin.

When you awoke the second time, you were surrounded by 9 people. One of which gently held you down as you tried to get up. "Don't get up... You have too many needles in you to get up." The male spoke gently. He sounded much nicer than Changbin and you welcomed the calming voice. You laid back down on the bed and sighed softly before your eyes opened wide "n..needles?" You ask softly "for what...?" You continue with another question.

"You're Lee Miso aren't you? You have a ton of medication that you take so I'm making it easier on you and giving it through an IV..." The male said. You calmed down and nodded "w..who are all of you...?" You asked quietly, your eyed looking around at all the faces. The one taking care of you opens his mouth first. "My name's Woojin...but to make this simple so you don't ask...we are all demons..." He spoke softly as you went to open your mouth, but you soon closed it when he answered your question.

You nodded before your eyes travled to the next male, the youngest looking one. "Name's Jeongin..." He said quietly, his braces making him look even younger. The next one was the one who came into the room while changbin wss pushing you earlier. "Hyunjin" he said as he waved before looking at your neck "damn Changbin...you really did a number on her neck...those bruises are dark..." Changbin rolled his eyes "shut up...she'll live..." He said coldly. Soon enough you had been introduced to all the boys, all of them but Changbin and chan looking concerned about your body. "Why did you bring a human here?" Chan asked as he glared at Changbin. "For one, why the hell are you asking weakling... You're the one who brought the slut here. And for two i took her soul, didn't expect she'd come down to hell with it." Chan rolls his eyes before leaving the room.

You watch him before looking at woojin, he had an apologetic look on his face. "I need to take the needles out..." He said softly. You nod "o-okay..." You said and closed your eyes as he started taking them out. It hurt but it was way less of a pain then changbin trying to strangle you. You soon sat up as the needles were finallt out. All the boys leave besides Changbin, making you really worried.

"Stop being so scared. I'm not gonna kill you" he said as he came over to you. "I'm sorry about earlier but you were pissing me off. Also, this is an exact replica of your old room minus your clothes and belongings we couldn't duplicate. The clothes in the closet are my old clothes..and your laptop is on your desk. Tell me if you need anything..." He said, sounding a lot less mean than he did earlier. You slowly got out of bed after he left the room and you went to the closet to change into something that wasn't the hospital gownesc clothing you had on. As you stripped the dress and your bra off, you heard the door open again. You turn to the door to see Changbin standing in shock as he wasn't expecting to see you without clothes or a bra on. He blushed deeply as did you. You cover your breasts before huffing "what do you need..?" You ask softly. "I..i was just gonna tell youbwe ordered food...so you can come eat..since you have met everyone." He said before shutting the door. You sigh and grab one of the large hoodies in the closet before leaving the room.

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

Text

Buster & Rio

Buster: I miss you Rio: Guarantee I miss you more Buster: State your case then Rio: 😍😍 Buster: That's a strong introduction, how are you gonna follow it through? Rio: 🤤🤤 Buster: I like the thread of your argument, I can't lie, but I still miss you more Buster: 'Cause a girl was flirting with me in the gym and after telling her all the ways she doesn't compare to you, how incomparable you are was, and is, all I could think about Rio: As much as I probably shouldn't encourage you to be rude to random girls Rio: I love that you do so Buster: She embarrassed herself long before I embarrassed her, reckoning she had a chance Rio: I know what you mean Rio: the stalker has been getting inventive today Buster: Tell me Rio: We're doing this whole project in comp sci about viruses and shit Rio: and they've sent a meant-to-be-creepy spam type email Rio: it's got attachments but Rio: I've not looked yet Buster: Send it to me, I'll open it for you Rio: I know it's unlikely they're that smart Rio: but what if it does have some computer-killing 👾 attached? Buster: Smart enough that we haven't worked out who they are yet Buster: but if it's a virus, I'll buy another laptop Rio: it seems ridiculous Rio: this proves it has to be someone at school now, at least Rio: it's not like I've posted about my fucking homework anywhere Buster: How big's that class? Buster: Can discount my sister and your brother already, like Rio: Don't Rio: you're about the only person I've not thought it could be at my craziest Rio: probably about 30 odd though, standard Buster: Baby, they're the crazy one and I'm not letting them drive you even slightly close to the edge Buster: Who do you know and who don't you, percentage wise? Rio: I thought I knew everyone in this school, this town Rio: you'd think if someone was as creepy as this, anyway, that you'd know, they'd fucking stick out a bit but no Buster: It ain't a film, there's no creepy music playing to give it away Rio: if it was, it'd be dragging Rio: time for the resolve and happy ending Buster: Yeah, I know Buster: You wanna try calling that helpline again? Rio: Maybe Rio: I just wanna talk to you Rio: that's more helpful Buster: It's the least bullshit lead we've had for ages, I'll find a way to narrow it down more somehow Buster: We've got an obsession with you in common, it'll be me who figures it out if any cunt can Rio: Yours is the only one I need Buster: If you need to stay here for a while I'll sort it with my parents, yours, school, whoever Buster: You know that Rio: I know Rio: it's more and more tempting to not leave every time I go Buster: I just want you to be able to take an actual deep fucking breath Buster: Like you said, the amount of time this has been going on is ridiculous Rio: I can forget about it, most of the time Rio: but it's when something new happens, unexpected Buster: I'll kill him when we work out who it is Buster: 'Til then, stay with me Buster: He never does fuck all when you're here Rio: At least that's quick Rio: too nice if anything, babe Rio: always say that about you Buster: It don't have to be quick or nice Buster: Don't underestimate me, babe Rio: 🤤🤤 I rest my case Buster: I love you, that rests mine Buster: I'd do anything for you Rio: I love you so much Rio: I'd definitely be crazy without you, stalker or otherwise Buster: There's a fair chance I'd be stalking you too if things were any different between us Buster: I'd leave better presents though Rio: and I'd know it was you always Buster: 'Course Buster: I'd want you to know Rio: hence there's no world in which we ain't a thing Buster: [has bought her the most expensive and best ever anti virus software and all that jazz so sends her the deets like there you go] Rio: this really has everything Rio: thank you Buster: He ain't gonna be smart enough to get through that, I've been reading reviews since you told me Buster: And I have it too now so you don't have to worry about sending me whatever bullshit he does to you Rio: We can open it together then? Rio: [I think it shouldn't be camgirl moments but something @school to drive that home] Buster: Yeah, on the count of three Rio: [just some creeper shots all throughout the day up until that lesson] Rio: these are today, I'm 99% sure Rio: I swapped my bag Buster: Forget going there tomorrow, I'm booking you a flight here instead Buster: I'll think of a lie to tell my parents if you still don't want anyone else to know the truth Rio: there was always the possibility Rio: but now I know it's someone I really see in person Rio: every day Rio: jesus Buster: I meant what I said, I'm gonna find out who, whatever it takes Buster: I know it feels fucked, but it's good, that it's one of 30 classmates rather than the numbers of lads who watch your streams Rio: it's true Rio: but those lads could be anywhere in the world, not in the same room as me Buster: Which is why you shouldn't be in that room until we know which sick cunt it is Buster: Just give me some time, it's not like I don't have the money to throw at it Rio: I couldn't be there if I had to Rio: I don't even want to be here at home now Buster: How soon can you be at the airport? Rio: not for a while Rio: I mean, tonight, maybe Rio: what should I tell my mam? Buster: Tell her I'm having a breakdown, it wouldn't be the first time Buster: I'll trash the house for realism if it comes to it, like Rio: it'll keep her from being worried Rio: pissed off is fine, I'll deal with that when I can Buster: Exactly Buster: And Ava's at a friend's so I don't have to worry about scaring the shit out of her with my acting Buster: 'Cause it'd be stupid not to feed my parents the same lie Rio: You don't have to go that method Rio: but I wouldn't blame you Rio: I'm trying to keep my freak out internal because I'm looking after the twins and your sister is on her way Buster: I'm glad you're not on your own, even if the company is Nance Rio: I was kinda hoping someone took the homework too seriously and was pranking the whole class Rio: but nah, the email was more specific than I let on to her, of course Rio: even before the pictures Buster: 'Course you were Buster: He'd been quiet for a while Rio: really think he'd get bored at some point Rio: I never react, respond, everything they tell you Buster: Now isn't really the time for me to reiterate how stalkable you are again when I can do better with compliments Rio: the fact you can make me smile even at this time Buster: I can do better than that too, I'll make you forget about it Rio: yeah? Buster: Yeah Rio: I need that Rio: my head is all over the place Buster: You've got it, and whatever else you need Rio: I only feel really safe when I'm with you Buster: You are safe with me, but you won't have to leave until you're also safe everywhere else Buster: I'm gonna fix it Rio: yeah Buster: I know I've said it before but this time I swear Buster: He fucked up by giving us a decent clue Rio: it does narrow it down Rio: even if it isn't the class, and it's just the school in general Rio: that's the most we've ever had to go on Buster: Exactly Rio: but what do we do Rio: if we work it out Buster: I told you, I'll kill him Rio: so you're the only one that ends up in prison Buster: I'm not a fucking amateur, babe Rio: mm Rio: 🙄😏 Buster: Hilarious Buster: Nance will be a way more receptive audience though Rio: yeah, really in the mood for this study sesh now Buster: I can easily change hers if you wanna get out of it Rio: nah Rio: I need to keep things normal Rio: only just invited her over, it'd be weird to change my mind Buster: You can blame me for that as well, I don't give a shit Rio: I can't leave yet, like you said, distraction is probably a good thing Buster: Alright, what can I do to make it a more bearable one? Buster: [loads of her fave things getting delivered to this gaff like don't be scared to answer your door, look they are all from me, here's the order confirmations] Rio: I don't deserve you Buster: You don't deserve the bullshit he's putting you through, you've always deserved me Rio: I feel like I should just Rio: stop the streams Rio: I know you aren't meant to change your lifestyle and habits for them but it wouldn't have happened if I weren't doing that shit Rio: I know you aren't meant to change your lifestyle and habits for them but it wouldn't have happened if I weren't doing that shit Buster: Fuck that, we know he's from school Buster: Being able to see you every day pre-dates anything you've done online Buster: He could've known you since primary Rio: I guess Rio: but would he be bothered if there was less out there to stalk Buster: It's not your fault, Rio Buster: It can happen to anyone, you know that Rio: it's happening to me though Buster: Not 'cause of anything you've done Buster: Come on Rio: anyway Rio: I'm gonna enjoy all these treats Buster: Good Rio: how much should I bring? Rio: when I pack Buster: As much as you want, I'll send you money for if your cases are over the weight limit Rio: don't want it to look like I'm running away too hard but Buster: You're overthinking it, you never travel light anywhere, nobody'll notice Rio: I need options Buster: I'm not mad about it and I don't care if my parents are Rio: they're going to be Rio: you'll have to go to school, be 😇 to show I'm totally not a distraction Buster: You are, but I'll still go Buster: All that matters to me is that you feel safe Rio: I will do Rio: and I'll find ways to be useful to them as well as distracting to you Buster: Winning over Ava is basically the same thing as winning them over Buster: You've had loads of practice at that Rio: kids are easy Buster: She's easier than Grace, obviously Rio: wouldn't take much on Ava's part Rio: bless Buster: She'll be distracting at any rate Rio: I can take her to school and shit, free up some time for them Buster: Yeah, and once you've had some time, we can sort out getting your assignments and shit sent over Rio: I won't miss anything important Buster: It'll be fine Buster: I'll make sure it's fine, like Rio: I know you will Buster: You gonna facetime me into this study session or what then? Rio: depends Rio: are you going to be nice? Buster: To you Rio: well you're always nice to me Buster: Are you asking me to help Nance with her homework? Rio: how much do you think she'd appreciate that? Buster: She wouldn't, so of course I'll do it Rio: I can't with you two, honestly Buster: You love me, you don't even want her to come over Rio: I'm not getting in the middle of it Buster: You already are Rio: No I'm not, shh Buster: It's okay, I know you're on my side Rio: I love you more than anyone else in the world Rio: goes without saying Buster: I still really like hearing it Rio: You know you can hear it any time you want Buster: Is she there yet? Rio: nope, you remember how long that drive takes, even in an uber Buster: I'll call you then Rio: 🥰 Buster: [does obvs] Rio: I'll just be here counting down the minutes 'til you can hold me Buster: However long it feels, you'll be staying longer Rio: promise? Buster: I swear Rio: then I'm happy Buster: If you are, I am too Rio: I haven't even asked you how your days been Rio: I'm so rude Buster: Before and after I shot down gym girl there ain't much to report Rio: what did she look like? Buster: Every other girl in this postcode Rio: Blonde and skinny Buster: Yeah Rio: vaguely equine, dresses more like a nan than nan ever would Buster: I'll have to remember all that for the next one Rio: I can tell her myself if you like Buster: If you like Rio: Me? The jealous type? Buster: The jealous type and my type Rio: I better be Rio: only type Buster: You're the only one I've ever wanted or will ever want, you definitely don't need to add that to the list of shit that's worrying you right now Rio: I just like to hear it Buster: I'll tell you again then, I want you so much Rio: even without all this bullshit Rio: it's been too long Rio: I hate every second I'm not with you Buster: I know, me too Buster: I'm not gonna say he's done me a favour, but I am glad you're coming to stay Rio: I'll say it Rio: may as well get something good from it Buster: I'd rather you didn't have to deal with any of this bullshit, obviously Rio: of course Rio: I told you, I've never thought it was you, it's okay Buster: It's not okay that I haven't been able to do fuck all about this though Buster: I'm sorry Rio: Don't Buster: It's not good enough, I know that Buster: I'm gonna do better Rio: Stop it Buster: I mean it, Rio Rio: we've done everything we can Rio: it's not fair on me or you to act like we haven't Buster: I just hate this Rio: I know, baby Buster: You're the best thing that's happened to me, this shouldn't be happening to you Rio: It really could happen to anyone Rio: it's shit Rio: but you make me feel safe, that isn't nothing Buster: I'll calm down before you get here Buster: I swear Rio: you don't have to Rio: you can be mad, I am Rio: but you don't need to blame yourself, even if it's second to him, it's all on him Buster: I am angry but you've got the wrong twin if you reckon I'm willing to make any of this about me Buster: I'm here for you Rio: Trust me, I know Rio: she seems distracted herself recently Buster: Yeah? Rio: I'll try to work it out, not had time yet Rio: she won't say anything if you're on the phone though Buster: I don't have to be, if you wanna do some investigating Rio: I know you wanna know too Buster: I know if you get her started she'll talk about herself until you've gotten all of your own bullshit exists Rio: and you're a little nosy too, you can admit it Rio: I'll get the gossip Buster: She's still my sister Buster: 'Course I wanna know if she's being stalked as well or whatever Rio: You're cute Rio: and I do not think it's that Rio: obviously Buster: You know what I mean Rio: I do Rio: that's why I wanna know too Buster: Okay, tell me when you do Rio: 🧐 Rio: wouldn't suit the hat Buster: You'd suit anything, don't lie Rio: 😊 Rio: I mean if that's your thing I'll do my best Buster: If it was that wouldn't be the first you've heard of it Rio: be mad if it was Rio: you have to tell me exactly what you like so I can be it Buster: You are Buster: And I don't have, or want to have, any secrets from you Rio: secrets are boring Rio: and hard to keep Buster: Neither of us could ever be boring Buster: And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you forever Rio: You've got me Rio: not going anywhere Buster: Only closer to where I am, not further away Buster: Soon as your mum is back and your study session is over Rio: not that I need to do this homework now Rio: just be throwing subtle hints at Nance instead Buster: Be fucking typical her if she's getting bullied there as well Rio: I'd know if she was Rio: only have the two lessons with her but contrary to what the stalker suggests, I know most people well enough that they wouldn't Buster: Well Ava'll probably get a love life before she does, Christ knows what else it could be then Rio: ugh don't Rio: it's coming up with Edie for sure Rio: Jun is like Nancy and Billie isn't bothered thank god Rio: hate it Buster: Who's bothered about Edie then? Buster: Tell me your gossip Rio: It's just like the boys she hangs with are less useless stoner and more keep your eye on them types than Billie's friends Rio: and they aren't just friends types, I don't trust 'em Buster: Maybe I should be getting on a plane instead of you Rio: at least none of them are stupid Rio: especially not Eds Rio: have to hope anyway Buster: I've taught her how to protect herself physically, I reckon she can handle lads trying to get in her head Buster: Like you said Buster: She's no stupid kid Rio: Yeah, she has all the tools and advantages she can be given Rio: 💘 and hormones still make people stupid though Buster: I remember Rio: well yeah, ignoring the fact we'd be used as prime examples in that lecture Buster: Sure we have been, never too early for mum and dad to tell Ava what not to do Rio: As if we'll have started a trend Rio: if it wasn't you it'd be a really bad idea Buster: They should want her to have this, how I feel about you, how happy I am Buster: It's not as if they can actually judge us for who it's with Buster: This family are way past that Rio: You'd think Rio: I'm way past caring Rio: it was so Rio: I wasn't me without you Buster: I feel exactly the same, you know I do Buster: The only thing I've ever done wrong was not be with you, every bad thing I did or that was done to me can be traced back to that Buster: We're free now and this stalker isn't gonna make you feel otherwise any more, I'm not letting it happen for another fucking day Rio: we can get through anything, we've got the rest stacked against us and we're still strong Rio: as long as you love me, then there's nothing anyone can say or do Buster: I really fucking love you Rio: I love you Rio: endlessly Buster: [a flight he's booked her like this is happening no matter what excuse us fam] Rio: 🙏 Rio: I cannot wait Buster: Me either Rio: you can pick me up from the airport, right? Buster: Nothing could stop me Rio: Yay 🥰🥰🥰 Buster: You need me to help you with all that luggage Rio: it will be one suitcase Rio: and a sizeable handbag, thank you 😂 Rio: but I still need you Buster: I'll be early regardless Rio: you're the best Buster: No, I do my best, you don't even have to try Rio: You don't either Rio: but I will for you and I appreciate that you do Buster: I appreciate everything that you do Rio: you will Rio: that's the plan Buster: I do, whether or not shit goes to plan Buster: You're one of the strongest people I know, the least I can do is give you the reminder Rio: Buster Rio: it won't always be this dramatic, you know Rio: being together Buster: I don't care if it is, you're worth it Buster: And I'd endure the worst suffering I can possibly imagine to be with you if any alternative meant not being Rio: now you're just being hot about it on purpose Buster: I told you I miss you, nothing's changed Rio: I miss you all the time Rio: but I'm down for all the ways you make it worse Buster: [sends her a pic from when he was at the gym earlier like okay we're testing the waters but not very much yet lol] Rio: oh Rio: yeah, I would've flirted with you too Buster: What would you have said? Rio: Hmm Rio: ask you to check my form Buster: As long as you'd have time for how thorough I'd be, I don't have any problem with that Rio: Of course Rio: I'd ask you because you're clearly an expert Buster: And there's no need for me to hold back on my expertise as you're clearly so receptive to it, not to mention deserving Rio: Don't, I want you to show me exactly how you do it Buster: Never, I wouldn't wanna leave you with more questions than answers Rio: of course, but there are some things I could show you in return for all you're going to teach me Buster: Yeah? Buster: You've got yourself a deal, babe Rio: are you going to let me come to the gym with you really Buster: If you want to Buster: I'll try not to get too distracted at the prospect Rio: you look like that, obviously I want to Buster: [a pic of how he looks now like we can also stay in this bed where I currently am chilling] Rio: 🥺🥺 GIMME Buster: You're not meant to change your behaviour or habits for that cunt, remember Buster: Say please Rio: please Rio: please let me be in that bed right now Buster: [treat that gal to some more pics boy she's had a shit day] Rio: please be with me right now Rio: in me Buster: You know that's all I want Rio: you're perfect, Buster, you know that Buster: We're perfect for each other Rio: marry me Buster: As soon as we can, I will Rio: seriously Buster: I am being serious Rio: oh Buster: Once we're both 18 nobody can stop us Rio: yeah but Rio: nobody would come Buster: I only need you to turn up Rio: technically Buster: And actually, 'cause the rest of my family won't and like you said, I'm past caring Rio: if you were going to do it Rio: you'd want the big day, the venue, the clothes, the car Rio: everything proper Buster: If you were going to do it, you'd want your family there, you can say what you really mean Rio: we can't just do all that for two people Buster: We can do whatever we want Rio: I just wish people would be happy for us Buster: I know, I haven't properly asked you yet 'cause I want everything to be perfect for you and there's fuck all I can do to give you that Rio: it'll never happen, I know that Rio: I've accepted it, it's just hard to make total peace with Buster: There was a time when I reckoned we'd never happen Rio: yeah Buster: I don't care who or how many people I have to turn my back on for you, it'll never matter as much as us being together Rio: it shouldn't have to be like this Rio: it's bullshit Buster: Yeah, but it is, and I've made my choice Buster: You know the things I'd do differently and none of 'em are about not ending up here Rio: Me too Buster: Changing their minds is as likely as us changing ours, it's an old fashioned stand off, like Rio: True Rio: it's like, they forget they're meant to be anti-us sometimes though Rio: and it's just normal, like we're any other couple Buster: Maybe when we've has as many years as my parents, it will actually be considered normal Rio: you reckon? Buster: Worked for them Rio: I guess nan and granddad are sufficiently over it Rio: had competition though, didn't they Rio: don't think that's likely to repeat itself Buster: Fingers crossed Nance is hiding a dark enough secret to take at least some of my parents' attention nevertheless Rio: in your dreams, babe Buster: Why would I dream about her downfall when I could dream about your happiness? Rio: alright 😇 Buster: We're not married yet but in regards to that, what's mine is yours, babe Buster: And vice versa Rio: you know I want it too Rio: to be married to you, and have everything we want Buster: Then I'll make it happen, exactly how you want Buster: Where there's a will there's a way, yeah? Especially when it's my will getting involved Rio: I trust that Rio: you Buster: Good 'cause you can Buster: About this and everything else Rio: then that's settled Rio: and Nance is finally here Buster: I'll still be here if you need me Rio: 🧡🧡🧡 Rio: you focus on doing everything you possibly can before I get there so you can spend as much time with me as we've got Buster: Consider it done

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