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heartsforvin · 14 days

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UNTOUCHABLE

bfb is probably one of my favorite tropes 😣 stream bfb by victoria justice 💋

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, praise, use of pet names, dirty talk, cussing, oral (f receiving), slight choking kink, dom!vinnie, age gap (r’s 19, v’s 22), loss of virginity, slight breeding kink, perv!vinnie, if i missed anything lmk !!

summary: you’re untouchable to vinnie, considering you’re his brothers best friend, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore

a/n: guys i loveee writing perv!vinnie can you tell yet ?? (i can’t help it, i love the idea 🤭)

he needed you. needed you in every and any way he could get you. he felt wrong, though. almost gross, like he shouldn’t be feeling this way towards you.

you are his brothers best friend, he’s known you for years, that’s one of the reasons why he feels a bit disgusted by himself.

just a bit, though.

you’ve been around since his brother entered the sixth grade, so you have basically grown up with this family. having spent many summers, along with just nights in general with the family.

he’s seen you through puberty, and he can’t lie, once you started filling out and growing more, he couldn’t help but spare a few glances once in awhile.

you’ve always thought nothing of it, always thought that was just the big brother instinct in him — to watch over not only reggie while the two of you hung out, but you as well.

you didn’t realize until around sophomore year of high school though, that it was more of just tiny glances and hand touches.

you thought vinnie was attractive, sure. especially when he got a little older. when the tattoos became a regular addition to his body along with the abs.

you’d never let him know that outright though. part of you always thought he was full of himself.

when you noticed he started gaining fame, you thought he was taking it all to his head.

he’d post those thirst traps, and though you did find them hot when you were sixteen, seventeen, you just thought he was full of it now.

vinnie has always been a bit more touchy with you. always finding an excuse to rub up against you or touch your hand.

you’d always just push him off, telling him to back off before reggie saw and got the wrong impression.

that’s the last thing you needed. for your best friend to know you were into his brother.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

“need some help, princess?” you heard his voice and immediately rolled your eyes as you planted your heals back on the ground.

it was a hot summer day, and all you wanted to do was hang out with reggie by the pool.

he had asked you to go grab more plastic cups from the house, to which you agreed.

now here you were, standing on your tip toes as you tried to reach the top shelf.

you felt vinnie’s front press against your back, his breath on your ear as he reached his arm to the shelf with ease.

“thanks.” you reply meekly, already over him for the day.

he flashed you a smile before heading back to the stairs, probably back up to his room to play video games.

you made it back outside quickly, not wanting to take too long for reggie to notice you went missing for minutes on end.

the two of you sat on the edge of the pool with your feet in the water as you drank soda in the cups you had just brought out.

you were talking about college and what classes the two of you were taking when you heard the back door open.

turning around, you saw vinnie walk out in only his swim trunks, tattoos on full display.

rolling your eyes, you turned back to your best friend as the two of you continued talking.

about ten minutes later, reggie had mentioned he needed to use the bathroom and that he’ll be out in a minute.

you nodded and set your cup down next to you, watching as vinnie replaced reggie’s spot as soon as the back door shut.

“that a new suit?” he questioned, making you look down to see which one you were wearing.

it was a light pink string bikini. you saw it at target weeks prior and remembered you needed a new suit for the summer.

vinnie’s eyes raked over your body as you sat next to him. he gave a longer glance at your tits, seeing how nice they fit in your top.

his gaze moved down to your thighs, looking at the plush skin and imagining what it’d be like to get in between them.

he wondered a lot of things about you. he had overheard a conversation you had with reggie once, talking about how experienced the two of you were.

it was nothing odd or uncomfortable for you to talk about with the younger sibling, if anything it was normal.

the two of you knew everything about each other, nothing was too off limits or tmi.

so when vinnie heard you had never had sex with anyone, he smiled to himself, hoping he could be the first person to pleasure you.

“what do you want?” your sharp tone broke him out of his thoughts. “reg’s gonna be back in a minute, can’t have him getting the wrong idea.”

if anything he’d probably expect nothing of it, just his best friend and his brother having a normal conversation.

you were terrified of him having the wrong impression on the two of you though. he’s asked you before if you’ve ever had even the slightest crush on his brother, to which you just laughed.

if he had asked you about three years ago, maybe the answer would be yes, but now? hell no.

the touch on your thigh almost made you spit out your drink. “you don’t want that,” vinnie breathed. “i could personally care less of what my brother thinks im doing with anyone.”

you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, placing it in his lap. as soon as you did, you heard the back door open again.

“you guys hungry?” you heard reggie call out, to which you moved quicker than ever.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

later on that night, you and reggie got ready to chill and watch a movie. you had decided to spend the night last minute, it was a friday night after all so neither of you had classes in the morning.

as you were walking back to reggie’s room from the bathroom, you could’ve sworn you heard what sounded like moaning that came from the eldest boys’ room.

you stopped in front of his door, wondering if you should bust in and interrupt to make fun of him, or to stay here a minute.

you never really imagined vinnie in that way. not often at least. the thought did cross your mind here and there, but you pushed it back.

you didn’t like him. didn’t like how he gawked at you — looked at you like prey. how he was always touching you in some way.

at the same time though, you kind of did like it. no guy had ever really paid any mind to you, and vinnie does.

maybe it was just the male validation you so desperately craved, or maybe you actually did like vinnie.

as you stood there, you could’ve sworn you heard your name fall out of his mouth, which made your eyes go wide.

you contemplated on what you wanted to do. you could easily go back to reggie’s room and apologize for taking too long. or you could fulfill both yours and vinnie’s fantasies.

with a shaky exhale, you slowly pushed the door open and the sight before you made you instantly wet.

there he was, naked from the chest down, his boxers resting on his ankles, as he jerked himself off with your swimsuit top.

it was disgusting, filthy even, but for some reason you found it so hot in this moment.

you don’t even remember where you had put your suit after the swim earlier. either way, vinnie found it and decided to put it to use.

you just stood there, unable to move as you watched his fist move rapidly with your swimsuit top in hand, watching, listening to the noises he made.

“s-shit princess, yeah just like that.” you heard him say, making you clench around nothing.

when his eyes opened that’s when you gasped, covering your mouth in case it was too loud.

vinnie didn’t even hesitate to try and put on his boxers or even cover himself with a blanket.

“what are you doing in here, sweetheart?” his tone was low, gaze fixated on you and your sleep shirt.

you wore shorts underneath but they were short, so it went unnoticed. when vinnie saw your bare legs, he smiled.

you didn’t answer him, feeling embarrassed for even being in here at all. you felt dirty.

“come here,” vinnie said as he threw your cum-stained swimsuit top on the ground. “come sit on my lap, baby.”

you smiled, a rush of energy and confidence running through you now. you always wondered deep down what it’d be like to be on his lap, in his arms.

he had draped a blanket over his half-hard dick. no doubt it’ll be back to its hard state in a matter of seconds.

you straddled the man’s lap, your hands around his neck while his rested on your ass. your shirt rose up so your shorts were now visible.

“kinda hoped you were only wearin’ panties under this,” he chuckled as he smacked your ass. “would love to see those cute ones, y’know with the strawberries on ‘em?”

you blush, having packed those exact ones for tomorrow morning when you went back to your house to get a change of clothes.

his grip on you tightens, he’s got you where he’s wanted you for months now.

“or,” he starts, moving closer to your ear, kissing right under it softly. “that black thong you have. god, is that hot.”

you can’t believe this is happening. reggie would kill you if he found out vinnie laid a finger on you in this sort of situation.

“vinnie,” you whine as he moves you against his lap, your cunt grinding against his cock. “please.”

he smirks. “please what?” he asks as he leans in, mouths almost touching.

you squirm on him, making vinnie grip you a bit harder to keep you in place. “need you, want you.”

vinnie smiles before he places his lips on yours. the kiss turns hungry fast, hands roaming each others bodies as your tongues meet together.

“switch with me,” he says before lifting you off his lap. you stand on the ground as he does the same. “lay on the bed.”

you do as told, laying on the bed fully clothed while he stays how he is. once your head meets his pillow, vinnie climbs back on the bed and hovers over you.

he kisses your neck, making sure to leave marks even if you protest. he makes his way down to your collarbone and is soon tugging at the collar of your shirt.

your eyes widen as he takes the shirt off of you without even asking. he smirks as he looks up at you. “no bra, huh?” he asks.

you blush, even though you shouldn’t be embarrassed for being comfortable, there’s a part of you that is.

vinnie see’s your eyes shift and brings his hand up to your cheek, caressing it softly. you smile and lean into his touch.

without any warning he’s got his mouth planting kisses all down your chest and to your stomach. you grab his hair and tug at the feeling of his lips on your skin.

when he makes it to your shorts, he looks up at you and asks if he can take them off along with your panties.

you nod but then give him the verbal confirmation, he wastes no time pulling them off you.

“look at you,” his tone is deep, making chills run down your body. “already so wet f’me.” he says, slowly dragging a finger through your folds.

you whimper at the contact, grabbing his hair and tugging as his finger swipes against you.

you watch as he lowers himself on the bed, laying flat against his chest, his face now mere inches from where you need him.

all your nerves are gone, as if you aren’t scared for what’s about to come and how to handle everything.

vinnie smiles up at you before he dives in, sucking on your clit as you tug at the locks of his hair.

“taste so good, pretty,” he moans into you, making you whine in pleasure. “such a good girl for me.”

the praise goes straight to your head as you feel vinnie grip your thighs, holding you in place.

as his tongue continues to suck on your clit, he slides his index finger along your folds before pushing it into you.

a loud moan rips from your throat but vinnie’s quick to clamp a hand over your mouth, shushing you.

“don’t want reggie to get the wrong impression now, do we?” he asks, referring to what you told him earlier.

you shake your head, his hand still covering your mouth. he smiles as he removes the tattooed hand away from you, lifting his head to kiss you softly.

his mouth is on your sensitive pussy once again, with his index finger curling inside you, making you close your legs around him.

vinnie groans as he pushes your legs open again, he continues his actions before he feels the grip on his hair tighten.

“v-vinnie,” you moan softly, feeling a knot in your lower belly tighten. “baby.”

his gaze reaches you, he knows what’s coming and his movements quickened. you tighten your legs around his head, gripping the sheets as you moan profanities.

you try your best to stay as quiet as you can, but it’s no use once you feel yourself release on the man’s face below you.

vinnie smiles as he catches every ounce, lifting up and leaning on his elbows as he looks up at you.

“thanks for the warning, princess.” vinnie chuckles as he pushes himself up to hover over you.

you blush with a slight smile, suddenly feeling nervous now that the real thing might happen.

vinnie gives you a sweet smile, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “what’s wrong?”

the question is genuine, throwing you off since he’s usually not like that with you.

“i’m a virgin,” you say quietly, lowering your head. vinnie lifts your chin with his index finger, kissing you softly.

“i can’t promise you i’ll be gentle, you know how bad ive been wanting this.” he tells you truthfully.

you nod, knowing already that if this were to happen he’d definitely not be the slightest bit of gentle with you.

he gives you a look to ask if you’re ready, you nod but also let out a quiet but audible ‘yes’ to let him know.

he kisses you roughly before pulling back and positioning himself to enter you.

once he does, you gasp at the feeling of having him inside you. he waits a minute for you to adjust before he starts moving.

he grips your hips, thrusting hard into you as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust.

he smiles. he’s been wanting this for so long now, cant believe he’s finally got you where he wanted you.

“fuck vin, you’re so big.” you moan, watching as vinnie gives you a smirk.

he moves his hand to grab yours, bringing it down to your lower tummy. “you feel that, pretty girl? that’s all me, fillin’ you up so good, yeah?”

you whimper at the feeling of having his cock inside you. you grab his hand and squeeze tightly.

“feel good, huh? like havin’ my cock inside you, baby? feeling me everywhere?” he asks, knowing the answer already.

you nod with a soft moan followed by it, trying your best to not be so loud no matter how good it feels.

the pain subsided and turned to pleasure, making you feel like you were on cloud nine.

as vinnie’s thrusts became quicker, you watched as his hand slid from your hip to your throat in a matter of seconds, applying pressure.

he saw you smile and applied a bit more pressure. “you like that, don’t you?” he asks.

you try to nod the best you can, vinnie leans in to kiss you and you immediately meet him, kissing back with just as much need as he is you.

he watches you pull apart from his lips and start to move your hand down to your clit.

“nuh, uh,” he smacks your hand away. “i’m not done with you yet.”

before you can speak, he’s flipping you over so you’re on top now. you’ve never been in this position so he helps you guide yourself on him.

“yeah, just like that, good girl.” he praises when he feels you clench around him. “fuck you feel amazing.”

you soon catch on and give yourself a rhythm, bouncing on him with ease while vinnie grabs your tits and squeezes them in his palms.

“been wanting to get my hands on these for so long, y’know that, sweet girl?” he tells you as he lowers his mouth to your chest.

he takes your right breast into his mouth and sucks, definitely leaving marks. he gives the left one the same attention after.

“vinnie.” you moan, throwing your head back at the feeling of his mouth on your chest.

he watches you ride him, completely obsessed of the sight in front of him. as much as your swimsuit top was doing wonders for him, actually being inside you is definitely better.

vinnie squeezes your tits once more before gripping your hips again. “god you feel so good sweetheart,” he groans. “wanna fill you up, put a baby in you.”

he doesn’t even register what he says, just spewing words, feeling way too good in the moment.

you however do register what he said. “want it vin,” you whine out.

he smirks, gliding his thumbs against the plush of your thighs. “yeah, you want me to knock you up? have my babies? bet you someone would be very mad if they found out.”

you know who he’s talking about but right now you don’t care. the euphoria completely washes over all the fear from you.

his thrusts become faster and harsher, making you hold onto his shoulders for support. your head dips to rest in the crook of his neck while his hands move to cup your ass.

he bounces you on him, moans erupting from both of you as your highs near.

vinnie’s hand moves from your ass to your clit, rubbing harsh circles. “gonna cum, sweet girl. you’re gonna cum with me, ‘kay?”

you nod, a loud moan slipping from your lips at the pressure of his harsh rubs.

“almost baby, come on,” he urges, you continue your movements, scratching his back as you do. “fuck, sweetheart i’m there.”

before you can confirm that you are too, you’re already spilling out of him as he spills into you. he pushes himself into more, smirking as he does.

“gotta make sure it says in there if you want it to work, right?” he asks, to which you just sleepily nod.

the two of you stay connected for a minute before vinnie decides to pull out of you. you whine at the loss of contact to which he kisses your forehead.

you fall onto his bed with a loud sigh, smiling at the man next to you while he wraps his arms around you.

“do you think he heard?” you ask quietly.

vinnie stays silent for a moment, before saying, “you’re probably gonna have to have a long talk with him. me and you.” he explains.

you sigh, not wanting to deal or even think about the talk you’re gonna have to have with your best friend in the morning.

he sees your frustration and holds you tighter, kissing your cheek. you smile.

you want to ask the question but it’s probably dumb and he’ll probably just laugh, thinking you’re just some naïve kid.

you decide to stay silent, basking in this moment of being in his arms right now.

“goodnight, vinnie.” you say quietly as you nuzzle into his chest.

he smiles, hugging you tighter. “goodnight, princess.” he responds, kissing your head.

you hoped this wouldn’t be the last time you got to feel his touch.

HEYYYYY I LOVED THIS 🤗🤗 sorry if it’s so damn long, i had so much fun writing it !!!

i hope you all liked it as much as I did, pls lmk cus i LOVE yalls feedback (unless you don’t like it, keep that shit to yourself LMAO)

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @forevergirlposts , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @visualbutterflysworld , @leqonsluv3r , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @violet0182 , @hallecarey1 , @kayleighh , @laylasbunbunny , @louloulemons-blog , @st4rswrld , @kriissy4gov

#vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinniehacker #vvhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinniehackerfanfic #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie x reader #vinnie x y/n #vinnie hacker headcanon

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accio-victuuri · 9 months

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from this article by 1905.com which is a platform under CCTV6 “Infinite Possibilities Not Defined——Impression of Crossover Actor Wang Yibo”

This kind of persistence in love and the core of success through hard work are exactly the themes that the film wants to express, and the character of Chen Shuo fully expresses Wang Yibo's unique spiritual core. Rather than saying that Wang Yibo played Chen Shuo in his true colors, it is better to say that Chen Shuo reflected a certain side of Wang Yibo.

Recently, the movie "One and Only" starring Wang Yibo entered the 700 million club at the box office in just 10 days. Viewers in Tao Piao Piao and Maoyan rated it with an average score of 9.7. The difficult street dance moves he completed in the movie were praised by professional dancers again and again. "Wang Yibo's enthusiastic one-elbow throw is done by himself" became a hot search on the Internet, and the street dance movement suddenly became popular.

"Dancing in any corner of the world is not bad"

"One and Only" is the theme movie of the 19th Asian Games in Hangzhou in 2022. It is exclusively planned by the Hangzhou Asian Games Organizing Committee. It uses the new competition event break dance as the carrier. A story that shines on the stage. Director Dapeng said in many interviews that choosing Wang Yibo to play Chen Shuo was the unanimous recommendation of the hip-hop industry.

It was recommended because of Wang Yibo's professionalism in hip-hop and his influence. In the "This Is Street Dance" series of variety shows, his infectious and aesthetic dancing attracted countless audiences and aroused a wave of hip-hop dance among the people. His influence was noticed by the Chinese Dancers Association and awarded him "Ambassador of China's Top Dancers Promotion" ", it can be said that he is expected to play Chen Shuo.

Dapeng said that the screenwriter wrote Chen Shuo according to Wang Yibo, first there was Wang Yibo, and then there was "One and Only". So we can see the shadow of Wang Yibo in Chen Shuo.

Wang Yibo started learning to dance because of his love in the sixth grade of elementary school, and this hobby has continued to this day. On August 3, he said during the Yueyang road show of the "One and Only" crew: "Dancing is my passion, and acting is also my passion. I don't feel tired doing two things I like at the same time."

In order to meet the needs of the plot, he did the dance that he gave up because of injuries when he was a child; for a dance move in the movie, he practiced repeatedly until his leg was injured; in order to achieve the best shooting effect, he repeated every time the filming is complete and danced it completely. He is making progress, and Chen Shuo is also making progress. Finally, in the final scene, Wang Yibo performed all types of hip-hop dance, which made hip-hop lovers feast.

Wang Yibo once said in an interview: "Dancing in any corner of the world is not bad." So we saw in "One and Only" that Chen Shuo danced in subway cars, shopping malls, restaurants, homes, vegetable farms, etc., dancing all the time. We arrived at the final scene of the National Hip-Hop Competition. This kind of persistence in love and the core of success through hard work are exactly the themes that the film wants to express, and the character of Chen Shuo fully expresses Wang Yibo's unique spiritual core. Rather than saying that Wang Yibo played Chen Shuo in his true colors, it is better to say that Chen Shuo reflected a certain side of Wang Yibo.

Huang Bo, who plays Chen Shuo's coach, said that his first impression of Wang Yibo was "handsome and hardworking". Screenwriter Su Biao even admitted that Wang Yibo gave him a lot of creative inspiration. It took Wang Yibo ten years to step by step to shine in front of the public. His own famous experience is an "exclamation mark" worthy of admiration.

“Just stay indifferent"

At the "Moon Rise in the Bay Area" gala jointly held by Hong Kong and mainland China, Wang Yibo sang the theme song of the same name of the movie "Hidden Blade" he starred in. Because he sang so well, some people questioned him for fake singing, and rumors spread. Later, some professionals pointed out that the song itself had overlapping choruses, and Wang Yibo's live singing was perfectly connected with the accompaniment chorus he had recorded in advance. Some people compared the live singing with his original MV, and found that a sound on the scene has been changed. This anti-rumor treatment is the same as he did in a concert in 2019. The rumors are self-defeating.

When questioned about lip-syncing, Wang Yibo himself did not come out to defend himself. Wang Yibo majored in music at Hanlin Art High School in South Korea. When he debuted in 2014, he was the team's rapper and dancer. He won the Best Newcomer of the Year Award at the Cool Music Asia Festival and the Annual Music Award at the Screaming iQiyi Night Awards Ceremony, which shows his singing skills and level. You can tell from watching his stage that he can breathe steadily while dancing and singing, not to mention singing while walking that night.

He has always chosen to respond to his doubts with his works. At the end of 2019, Wang Yibo released his third single "Wugan", which is his first attempt at lyrics creation. "Don't be a puppet that allows others to manipulate your emotions" "No feeling is the best way to fight back" "When the sun goes down and the lights are turned on at night, you can see that the world is not bad" "The road to adversity sees the future and stands up after falling Get up" "Finding the way, Follow the light that you see, be free". Every line of the lyrics expresses his attitude.

In 2021, he released a new song "Twenty". The lyrics read: "I want to re-ignite the fire, only ashes are left in front of my eyes again and again, I am looking for an exit with wounds all over my body, I have tightened the invisible rope again and again, my hands are empty and I have no strength to break free, the wind is so vast above three feet, but there are already bursts of waves in all directions." "stand up thousands of times, stand up to the skyline, stand up to the end, stand up to the infinite future". The song "Twenty" tells the story of pursuing the front again and again without fear of difficulties and finally finding the strength to stand up, as if it is a portrayal of his struggle against fate.

In 2023, at the concert in Macau, he used the song "Twenty" as the background music, and performed a dance called "Exclamation Point" with the original crew of the "E-Mark" dance troupe in the movie "One and Only". The same song, but with music without lyrics and a different dance, adding a new connotation. This brand-new way of expression makes people marvel at his stage again, and also makes people re-examine the song "Twenty" and re-examine the ups and downs Wang Yibo has experienced for so many years.

Recalling this song, he seems to be telling people: Not feeling is the biggest response to doubts, you can't beat me, I will go forward bravely and shine with my works.

"Stay true to yourself, don't please others"

Wang Yibo in 2023, in addition to the release of the three box-office and word-of-mouth films "Hidden Blade", "The King of the Sky" and "One and Only", there are still many occasions where he will be exposed to the public. Whether it is at the airport, on the red carpet, on the stage, watching a show, or in brand activities, his clothing and makeup often become hot topics that the public likes to talk about. Some people say that he is a "walking clothes rack", and some people say that he is a "fashion vane of internal entertainment".

Clothing and beauty brands are very partial to Wang Yibo. Chanel awarded him as a brand image ambassador, and filmed the movie "My Friend" for him to participate in world-class film festivals; Moncler praised him as "Moncler's most handsome spokesperson"; EVISU customized a special car for him; Special guest of the Shu Uemura Beauty Makeup Contest, signed on the same stage with world-class design masters; Pechoin is the exclusive title sponsor of the TV series he starred in; Anta specially designed his favorite color - green shoes and clothing for him...

Why do they love him so much? It may be because of his appearance, or his talent, but more likely because his image and core match the brand's values.

In May of this year, when Wang Yibo attended the Chanel show in Los Angeles, the United States, he talked about the biggest commonality between him and Chanel in an interview. He said bluntly: "Be loyal to yourself and don't please others." Reminiscent of his saying in an interview many years ago: "If you don't like me, just like others", it is similar.

So what is the self he insists on? To use the lines in the movie "One and Ou", it is "you will succeed if you keep working hard", and "if you have no distracting thoughts, you will have everything".

Wang Yibo's talent and intrinsic value are being recognized more and more. In addition to being the "China Top Dancer Promotion Ambassador", he is also officially awarded the "China Skateboard Application Promotion Ambassador" and "China Ice and Snow Sports Promotion Ambassador", etc. Departments and organizations such as public security, transportation, fire protection, tourism, and public welfare have also invited him. Spoke for anti-drug, civilized transportation, fire safety, etc.

He is like a treasure, opening infinite possibilities with a multifaceted life that cannot be defined.

#wang yibo #i love this and how it shows how no matter what people say — yibo’s works speak for itself #all his movie projects are praised for the quality #accio victuuri translation

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 months

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Throwback Thursday: National Pi Day Meet Cute

Note: This story was first posted on March 14, 2018. Given that it is once again National Pi Day, I was persuaded to repost.

Title: National Pi Day Meet Cute

Fandom: Captain Swan

Rating: G

Words: 1678

Summary:

When Mary Margaret Blanchard finds out her grandson has a very single, very handsome math teacher, she devises a way to create a sweet little meet cute between her daughter, Emma, and said math teacher.

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch @allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

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“Bye mom!” Henry yelled, as he hopped out of Emma’s yellow bug, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and started sprinting toward his friends. “See you after school!”

Emma waved him off, smiling as she saw her son catch up with a few of his friends, talking animatedly. It had been nearly a month since the two of them had moved to the sleepy little town of Storybrooke, Maine. Emma had worried that moving Henry halfway through his sixth grade year would be difficult, but her precocious little eleven-year-old had taken to small town living like a duck to water. He’d made more friends than he knew what to do with, and he absolutely loved school.

The smile slid from Emma’s face as she looked at the fresh-out-of-the-oven apple pie sitting on the passenger seat before her.

The problem with having a preteen who loved school is that he talked about it. A lot. And one of the people he talked about more than any other was his absolute favorite teacher, Mr. Jones, who was, as Henry put it, “the best teacher in the whole world”.

When Emma and Henry had left New York for Storybrooke, the two of them had moved in with her mom and dad, David and Mary Margaret Blanchard, at least until they got settled. When Henry started talking about Mr. Jones, Mary Margaret had perked up. When he told her that Mr. Jones was single and “old like mom”, Emma had groaned.

Emma knew she’d never get another moment’s peace.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret had said one morning, a conniving look in her eyes. “It’s really important you be involved in Henry’s education. Don’t you think you should meet his teachers? Maybe we should have one of them over for dinner one night. How about, oh, I don’t know…Mr. Jones?”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look mom,” she said, “I get what you’re doing, but I’m not looking for a relationship. I did the whole ‘fall in love’ thing about twelve years ago, and Neal Cassidy cured me from any desire to ever do it again.”

“But not every guy is like Neal,” Mary Margaret said earnestly. “Not every guy is going to leave you. And love is so worth it when you find the right guy.”

Emma muttered something about needing to get some work done before she went into the office, hoping her mom would drop the subject.

No such luck.

Last night, Mary Margaret had come up with her most brilliantly evil plan yet, and what’s worse, she’d gotten Henry involved.

“Hey mom,” Emma said as she returned to the loft after her day at the sheriff’s station. “Something smells good.”

Mary Margaret shot her the kind of smile that Emma knew was trouble. “So Henry came home from school today and told me that tomorrow is National Pi Day. I was thinking I ought to do something to celebrate. I thought I would make a pie for his math teacher, Mr. Jones—you know his very single, very handsome and very eligible teacher? You know because….pie for Pi Day?”

Emma groaned.

“And…” Mary Margaret said in a way that made Emma sure she didn’t want to hear what came next, “I was thinking maybe you could take the pie to Mr. Jones.”

“Mom…”

“Yeah!” Henry said, coming in and swiping an apple slice from the bowl where his grandma was tossing them with cinnamon and sugar. “Mom, Mr. Jones would love it, and I can’t carry the pie in myself! I’d look like a loser!”

“Since when does pie make you look like a loser?” Emma asked.

“Mom!” Henry said, drawing out the single syllable and following it with an eyeroll. “I can’t take a pie to a teacher. I’ll look like a teacher’s pet!”

“He’s right, Emma,” Mary Margaret said solemnly. “Middle school is a brutal place. You don’t want your son to be ostracized, do you?”

Emma sighed, shaking her head at the two. She knew when she was beat, and with the two of them ganging up on her, she was most definitely beat. “Fine. I’ll take the pie to Mr. Jones.”

And so here she was, bright and early on National Pi Day, weaving her way through a sea of rowdy pre-teens, looking for room 108, where Mr. Perfect himself would be waiting.

Mr. Perfect she scoffed to herself. The man was a math teacher, a math teacher who was passionate about his topic. Just about screamed nerd didn’t it? There was probably a very good reason he was very single.

She stopped just outside the door and took a deep breath. She’d get this over with, and then be able to go home and tell her matchmaking mother that her meddlesome schemes had failed miserably.

“Mr. Jones?” she said, knocking on the doorframe, and looking in at the man whose back was turned to her as he worked on his computer.

Mr. Jones turned around, and for a moment Emma forgot to breath, though she’s pretty sure she gasped so loudly her mom could hear it all the way from the loft. Mr. Jones was quite possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life.

He gave her an appreciative grin, getting to his feet and coming to meet her with an outstretched hand. “Mr. Killian Jones at your service. And who might you be, love?”

Great! Not only was he hotter than any many had a right to be, but he had a smooth, British accent as well. Butterflies started doing the polka in her stomach.

“Love?” He said again, and it was only then that Emma realized she’d been staring, mouth hanging open, at the man in front of her for a solid two minutes.

She shook her head. Emma! Get a grip!

“Sorry,” she said, hating the slightly husky sound of her voice. “I’m Emma Swan. My son Henry is in one of your sixth grade math classes.”

“Henry!” Mr. Jones said. “I must admit he’s one of my favorites. What can I do for you Mrs. Swan?”

“Miss,” Emma said, lamely, surprised and annoyed by how hard she was finding it to string two words together in a coherent fashion.

“Beg pardon?”

“It’s Miss Swan,” Emma said. Henry’s dad and I…well, let’s just say we haven’t been together since before he was born and leave it at that.”

He grinned at her from beneath heavily hooded eyes, and the look made her heart skip a beat. The amount of gorgeous this man was displaying should be illegal. It really should. “I must say, I’m rather glad to hear it. So what brings you to my classroom, love, though I’m hardly complaining about a lovely and single woman coming to visit me?”

Emma felt the blush covering her face. She averted her eyes, desperately looking for a way to get ahold of herself. Her eyes landed on the item she was holding. “Uh, I came to give you this. Henry thought you might like a pie for National Pi Day, because, you know, pie, Pi?”

He laughed, and Emma looked up, admiring the dimples in his scruff-covered cheeks, the tiny lines around his shockingly blue eyes. “I’ll accept this happily on one condition.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“You simply must stay and have a slice with me,” he said gesturing toward his desk.

“Don’t you have, you know classes to teach and stuff?” Emma asked.

“Aye,” Killian said, “but as it happens, first period is my prep period, so I’m all yours for the next hour.”

“I don’t know…”

“I insist,” Killian said. “You, no doubt have heard about me from your son, but I know next to nothing about his mother. Just who are you, Swan?”

Emma grinned, giving him a flirtatious look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would,” he answered with a wink that did not turn her insides to mush. (It absolutely turned her insides to mush.)

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

An hour and a half later, Emma pulled up in front of her parents’ apartment building, dropped her head onto her hands on the steering wheel and groaned.

She and Killian had fallen into easy conversation over their pie, and just before she left, he’d asked her out to dinner that night, insisting he must return the favor.

She’d said yes almost before the sentence was complete. She had a date with her son’s (hot) math teacher.

There would be no living with her mother after this.

~The End~

Notes:

--Happy National Pi Day! When I heard on the radio this morning that we were celebrating that particular holiday, it brought back to mind something that happened to me several years ago. My sister had a single math teacher who was around my age. My mom decided that he would be absolutely perfect for me. (Why? I don’t know; she hadn’t even met the guy. All she knew was that he was my age and single, lol.). So she came up with this brilliant, devious plan to create a little meet cute. She made a pie for the guy for National Pi Day, called me at my apartment, and asked if I would take my baby sister into school that morning and take the pie to her eligible bachelor of a teacher. I rolled my eyes and agreed to do it. Sadly, my story has an anti-climactic ending. When I got to the classroom, Mr. Perfect was not there, so I ended up just setting the pie on his desk and leaving. I never did meet the math teacher, which is fine with me. We must not affirm our mothers in their crazy matchmaking schemes, lol.

--But, as that story came to mind, I realized it, like so many other things, would make a very interesting CS au. So happy pi day, everyone! I wish you all drop dead gorgeous, blue eyed, black haired, ginger-bearded math teachers to make your Pi Day complete!

#throw back thursday #captain swan fanfiction #cs au #my fanfiction

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ficthots · 2 years

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4 Times Peter Said I Love You + 1 Time You Said It Back

A/N: Warnings will be added to this one due to smut and violence. However, I’ve been working on this one for awhile and I love it and I hope you guys do. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, 18+ content, DNI if you are under 18! Depictions of violence.

Word Count: 7.4k+

one

The -ber months were the best of the year and no one can argue with that. September meant the crisp air was starting to make its return, October was spooky season, November was stuffing your face with Aunt May’s delectable spread, and December was Christmas. Nothing beat the -ber months.

You sat on the porch steps of Aunt May’s house, a bowl of candy sitting on your lap as you handed out candy to the neighborhood kids. You had picked your costume out specifically for your best friend this year. May had about fallen over in laughter when she saw you walk out of Peter’s old bedroom.

He was supposed to be here over an hour ago, but you and May had been having a blast as you watched the streets become more flooded with kids and parents, begging for candy. The house was decked out with decorations, the lawn filled with an ominous fog and a strobe light, plus faux spider webs along the porch railing that Peter insisted on having. The entire neighborhood had gone in together this year and it looked amazing.

You knew why Peter was late, it had been on the news. Some massive robbery was happening downtown and who else would be there to take care of it other than Spider-Man? You just hoped he would be okay. Whenever his responsibilities came up, it made your heart clench.

Love is a strong word. One that you aren’t entirely comfortable with using. Did you say you loved things? Sure, all the time. You loved when a towel was still warm after being in the dryer. You loved when it rained so hard it looked like mist in the air. You loved the sound of Christmas music playing in department stores during the holidays. But using it towards people was an awkward experience for you.

You said it to May, the woman who had been a second mother to you since middle school, every time you saw her. You said it to Ben occasionally growing up. You said it to your mom whenever you hung up the phone. But it never came out naturally like how you hoped it would. Especially to Peter.

Feelings and Peter went hand in hand in your world. You had been in love with the dorky boy since you had first met him in sixth grade when he stood up to a bully for you when they took your puppy dog notebook that you had begged your mom for and threw it in the garbage, spilling rotten food all over it.

He had been your hero that day and every day since. You were the first person he told about Spider-Man because he had no idea what to do and was in a full blown panic in your room. Your mom had come up the stairs after hearing talking and your eyes just about bugged out of your head when he jumped onto the ceiling and stayed there until she left.

Years later you were still as close as ever and your feelings had only grown, but Peter didn’t see you that way. No, in his eyes you were the shadow he had been stuck with since sixth grade. He would never put it that way to you, unless you pissed him off, but he loved you as a friend. His best friend, as he always liked to remind you, no matter how much it twisted the knife in your gut whenever he said it.

He knew how to handle every problem you threw his way, even when it was something new. He was the smartest person you knew and you felt comfortable going to him with your issues. Peter wouldn’t have it any other way for his best friend.

You could handle being the best friend. It meant that you got to spend time with him whenever you wanted, that you would be a constant in his life no matter what. You had made your peace with that your freshman year of college as you watched Peter blossom. He had come out of his shell, becoming a much more confident figure and you loved that for him.

“We’re almost out of candy. I’m gonna go grab another bag,” you stood from your spot on the porch, handing the bowl to May and heard the costume's plastic rub together as you walked. May’s voice called out your name as you grabbed another bag from the stash in the living room and as you walked out, you peeked out the curtain and saw him there.

His hair was slicked back, some black spray on dye in his hair. His face was painted white and had fake blood around the corners of his mouth or what you hoped was fake blood. His long black cloak popped up at the neck, and the frilly shirt with the puffiest sleeves suited him more than you would like to admit.

You quickly grabbed the mask that was by the front door and slipped it on, trying to hold in your laughter as you did. You opened the door and Peter’s arm went up, covering half his face with the cloak, but before he could start his spiel as Dracula his eyes went wide, the black eye makeup hiding his honey-wheat eyes.

He doubled over, grabbing the porch banister as his laughter boomed, May wiping tears from her eyes at the sight before her. “Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, here to help,” you tried your best to mimic his voice, but failed as the giggles weaved into your words.

“I need a picture of this. Please, do the pose, please!” Peter grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of you as you crouched down into his signature pose, the mask askew, the fake muscle making it difficult to move and squeaking as you attempted to mimic him. May continued handing out candy to the kids as you and Peter laughed about each other's costumes, him more than you.

Peter had taken over helping you hand out candy, letting May head to bed after a long shift at the hospital that day. You took the mask off, gasping for air afterwards, hair standing in a million different directions. “How can you breathe in this thing?” He took the mask from you and put it on over his head and looked around and laughed as he did.

“I can’t see fucking shit out of this thing,” you snorted, handing out a handful of candy to a Winnie the Pooh that walked by. He ripped the mask off, tossing it onto the porch behind you both and took the real one out of his backpack, pulling it onto your head.

It was far too big, hanging loosely around the jaw and neck as you looked at the boy next to you who was fighting another fit of laughter at the sight. “God damn, Peter. Your head is massive,” he clutched at his stomach as you jumped up, doing what could only be described as shitty parkour, trying to mime the moves you had seen him do more than once.

You were out of breath at the end as you hopped off the porch railing. Plopping down next to him, Peter pulled the mask off from your head and wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling you towards him. His lips landed on your temple as he handed out more candy to kids. “God, I love you.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your face burned. The spot where Peter’s lips had landed tingled and you had to fight every urge to touch it. He meant as a friend. Of course he did. Peter loved you as a friend.

You pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind as the pizza delivery guy stood in front of you and you ran to grab your bag to tip him. Peter took the pizza and handed you a slice as he bit into his, throwing his head back and demolishing it in three bites before going in for another slice.

Instinctively, your thumb came to his cheek and wiped the stray sauce away as you smirked at him. “Happy Halloween, Dracula.”

two

You were sloshed. It was a Friday night and that week at work had been hell. Peter stood in your kitchen, dancing around in his socks as he grabbed another beer. You had been drinking Jack and Monsters and two of them had you drunk.

“Okay and get this. That promotion I was up for? You-ya remember that right? I told you ‘bout it like, I dunno three weeks ago. They got rid of the position! Bye-bye promotion. It’s like why the hell do I even try?” Peter stood at the island, eyes gleaming as he watched you, head upside down over the arm of the couch, telling him about your week.

It took a lot to get Peter drunk and while he was most definitely buzzed, he was nowhere near as gone as you were. He had a smirk taking over his plump lips as he watched you try to form actual sentences, your words slurring together.

He knew you were warm from the drinks, but you sat up and pulled your sweater off, leaving you only in the slip you had worn under your dress that day and he felt like he needed to look away, but he couldn’t bring himself to. You stood up and walked into the kitchen, going to make yourself another drink and he shook his head as you attempted to.

“How about water instead?” you pouted and it took every bit of self restraint he had not to kiss the pout away from your lips. “You’re no fun,” your self inhibitions had all but diminished and you didn’t realize how close you were standing to Peter. All you had to do was look up just a tiny bit and your lips would have connected.

His eyes moved between yours and your lips, wanting to make the move so bad, letting the buzz cloud over his rational thoughts. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought. You knew he was, his skin was tinted pink which it always did when he had a bit too much to drink.

Peter rested his forehead against yours and you tilted your head back a bit, letting your lips brush against his for a split second, just wanting to see how it would feel. Your eyes had fluttered shut, Peter took in a shaky breath as he watched you. Your lips slightly parted and your eyelashes touched your cheekbones. It felt like you had been electrocuted, your lips ached to do it again.

His hand landed on your jaw, kissing you again with more force. You wrapped your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers in his chestnut locks, pulling him even closer. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, begging for entry. When your lips parted, his taste flooded your senses.

The cinnamon gun he had been chewing earlier had some remnants, the beer and its nutty aftertaste poured onto your tastebuds, and a flavor that was distinctly Peter had a small whimper leave your throat. His hands had a firm grip on your hips, the silk felt cool under his fingertips as he slowly inched the fabric up.

His hands went to the undersides of your thighs, lifting you with absolute ease. Your legs locked around his waist instinctively. He started moving you both towards your room, gently laying you down on the unmade, messy comforter and sheets, lips never parting until he quickly pulled back, almost ripping his sweater off as you worked on his sweats.

Those damn gray sweats that left nothing to the imagination, even with his boxer briefs acting as the barrier. His finger tilted your chin up, locking eyes as he spoke. “Are you sure you wanna do this, baby?” You nodded eagerly, not wanting to let on how badly you wanted this. How often you thought about this exact scenario happening. That you had touched yourself more than once to the thought of Peter, imagining it was his hands, not yours.

His lips captured yours again, his hands bunching up the dress, removing it from your body. He faltered momentarily, eyes glancing at your bare chest, a strangled moan erupting from his throat at the sight. Light butterfly kisses littered your skin as he moved down your neck, across the tops of your breasts, in the valley between them before his hands cupped them.

Your breathing was ragged as you watched him, his lips wrapped around a nipple as your head fell back against the pillows. Your breathing all but stopped at the feeling. His fingers pinched and rolled the other before switching.

Your fingers pulled at his hair, forcing him to come back to you, tongues fighting for dominance. You pushed Peter onto his back, his eyes widening as you crouched between his legs.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as you moved the briefs down, his cock coming free. His head was weeping with precum as you took him in your hand for the first time. Your thumb swept at the slit, using it as lube as you gently brought your hand down his length.

His eyes slipped shut as you reached the base, a small groan falling from his swollen lips. You watched him in awe, taking him in in a way you hadn’t before.

His jaw was straining, adam's apple bobbing, eyes clenched shut, veins in his neck popping, and a flush color painted his skin. You were curious to see what would happen if you made a sudden move.

You moved the tip of your tongue towards him, tracing the slit on him. His taste exploded in your mouth, instantly watering in response. A shaky breath that faded to an embarrassed chuckle before turning into a moan left him as his eyes watched you.

Your hand slowly pumped him, your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft. His lips were parted, his tongue darting out to moisten them. Your eyes never left him, wanting to memorize this. Him.

When you reached his head again you pulled back only a couple inches, hearing a whimper leave the flustered boy below you. His knuckles were stark white as he gripped the comforter underneath him.

You spit on him, not that he needed the aid, but out of eagerness at his response. His eyes widened, jaw clicking as he tried to hold in whatever noise threatened to spill out.

You shook your head at him, moving back towards his cock, hand still moving achingly slow, grip never changing or loosening. “I wanna hear you, Peter,” the tension in his jaw released as you took him in your mouth.

You took him to the hilt on the first bob, relaxing your jaw and breathing through your nose, letting him hit the back of your throat. “Oh my god. Holy fuck,” you smirked to yourself at his moan, continuing the motion. His moans filled the room as did the lewd noises of you sucking him until his hands went to your hair.

Quickly releasing him from your mouth, you slapped his hands away. “No touching. I don’t need a guide and if you try again I won’t let you cum,” he swallowed nervously, his dick twitching at your words, nodding his head in response.

You pumped him again and kissed him chastly. “Good boy,” the praise had him moaning, his hands going back to the blanket, gripping like his life depended on it.

Taking him back in your mouth, you felt like you had become an addict. You knew you would never get enough of Peter Parker again. He was going to become an insatiable habit that you didn’t want to kick.

You pulled off, moving up to straddle him, feeling his achingly hard cock rub against your soaking core. You saw his eyes lock on your cunt, waiting to see himself sink into you.

Your clit was swollen after being neglected, but you didn’t want to touch yourself, only wanting to feel him enter you for the first time. You took him in your hand, gliding him into your heat. You could’ve cum from that feeling alone, your lids fluttering shut at the pleasure coursing through you.

Peter’s cries echoed against the walls, hips snapping up into yours. Your hands braced themselves on his chest, shaking your head at him.

“I didn’t tell you to move. Wait until I tell you,” the words were breathless as they escaped your lips. You grabbed his hands and gently guided one to your hip.

You took the other, moving it to your opening where he sat inside you. You let his fingers brush against where you joined together. His thumb moved towards your swollen nub, eliciting a gasp from you. Your head rolled back, exposing the expanse of your bare neck.

Peter committed every one of your movements to his memory. In complete wonderment at how you moved, taking control of this exchange. You leisurely moved your hips, shifting him inside you.

He almost came at the act, over sensitivity wracking him as you used him. You made the motion again, a whine leaving you. You continued the passive operation and Peter could feel himself coming apart as you whispered praises for him into the space between you both.

Peter didn’t move once, letting you drag your hips in the way you wanted, your velvet walls throbbing around him. He had never felt like this before and it was taking every ounce of self restraint to not finish.

Your moans caused goosebumps to erupt over his skin, never having heard a prettier sound before. If he could, he would listen to it all day.

It was what tipped him over, spilling into you, arms enclosing around you and crushing you to his chest as he rode his high.

You tsked at him, looking down at the boy whose skin was incredibly warm to the touch. “Did I say you could cum?” He opened his eyes, seeing your lust heavy lids cover most of your gaze.

Apologies tumbled from him as you sighed, pulling off of his length and moving further up him, your knees landing on either side of his head.

Your fingers tangled in his locks and his gaze fell to your leaking pussy, his seed dripping from your hole, mixing with your own arousal as it fell out.

“Make me cum. Be a good boy and make me cum,” Peter’s hands pulled you down before you finished talking. His eyes rolled back as he ran a stripe up your folds, gently sucking on your clit. “Holy shit, fuck. Petey,” your praises spurred him on as you began writhing on top of him.

You thrust your hips back and forth, feeling Peter’s bruising grip on your thighs, pulling you even closer to him. It took no time at all before you came undone on his face. Your grip loosened on his hair, Peter’s mouth continuing to work you through the aftermath of the best orgasm you’d ever had.

Slowly moving from your best friend's face, he had a shit eating grin plastered on his features. His chin and lips were glistening with your juice. You fell on the mattress next to him as he grabbed you, wrapping you up into him, a lazy kiss shared between you two.

He got up, leaving the space next to you empty, taking his warmth and comfort with him. Your eyes slipped shut, but reopened when you felt a warm washcloth press against you.

Peter had slipped back into his sweats, but he peppered kisses against your bare thighs, hips, and one quick peck to your over sensitive nub. He chuckled as you flinched at his kisses, handing you your discarded clothes.

His arms wrapped around you, securing you to his chest as your breathing evened out. His fingers played with your hair, a breathless laugh leaving him as he spoke while you began to fall asleep.

“You’re literally perfect. I love you, babe,” his lips landed on your hairline, but you were fast asleep by the time he finished.

three

You had seen Peter almost every night since your drunken rendezvous. Every night had ended up with you two sleeping together. He had come in as Spider-Man one night and didn’t even finish taking the suit off before he was in you.

Yet the relationship hadn’t shifted in the slightest. You just felt like you knew him better. The feelings that you had been grappling with for years were becoming almost unmanageable.

Peter was the person who you’d had feelings for since sixth grade and you hadn’t acted on them for a reason. What you had with him was fragile. A new aspect, a new branch, had been added to the complicated web, no pun intended, intricacies of your relationship. You didn’t want to rock the boat because with your luck you would capsize it and drown on the way down and you couldn’t lose Peter like that. He was the stability in your life and had been for about as long as you could remember.

Your thoughts ran through your mind as you checked your texts and saw a message from Peter, an image of your apartment and a text following with a quite lascivious description of what was waiting for you at home.

You giggled, starting to type a response when a hand clamped over your mouth, an arm enclosing around your torso and throwing you into an alley onto the filthy ground. The pain from the fall was nothing compared to the broken glass you landed in, feeling it slice your hands and cheek clean open.

“Give us your purse and you won’t get hurt,” you tossed your bag at the pair of guys, just praying they’d leave you alone if you gave them what they wanted.

The two rifled through your bag, but couldn’t find your wallet. A steel toed boot made impact with your stomach, a scream falling from you. “Where the fuck is your wallet, bitch?” Your eyes watered as a fist connected with your jaw, blood splattering from your mouth onto the grime below you.

You realized you had left it at home on your counter this morning. You and Peter had ordered takeout last night and you had removed it from your purse to tip the delivery boy and forgot to put it back in your bag. You were in a rush this morning, trying to not be late.

Another blinding blow landed on your left eye, it immediately swelled and dwindled your vision. You felt the two continue the assault, but let your mind wander to other thoughts, trying to take away from the reality of what was happening, and the pain that you had never imagined feeling that took you in its grips, not releasing, but only getting worse.

You weren’t sure how long they had been attacking you, but by the time they had finished you were unrecognizable. Blood poured down onto the murky ground below you. Each breath was agonizing as you forced yourself to move to grab your phone.

It was shattered, but the half typed message sat on your screen. “Hey siri, call Spidey and put it on speaker,” you choked out, cries flowing from you mixed with painful grunts and noises you weren’t sure were coming from you. You spit blood out of your mouth as his sweet, excited voice rang through the speaker into the alley.

“You know I don’t mind you working late, but it is just rude to leave-” you cut off his joking tone, a strangled and windless gasp leaving you as a new pain shot through you. “Peter. Help. I need help,” he had frozen as he heard your voice, his spidey-senses going haywire.

“Baby, where are you? How bad are you hurt? Where are you?” It felt like the wind continuously knocked out of you with every excruciating breath you took. “Work. Alley by work,” was all you could manage as you sobbed, the pain taking over every thought that riddled you.

He was talking, but no words were registering as mangled cries and sobs wracked you. Hands landed on you and you screamed, trying to move away from them.

“It’s me, it’s me, baby! It’s me,” your gaze went to him, one eye looking over the features that you knew by heart. Peter thought he would pass out from the rage that coursed through him at the sight of you.

The wail that came from you, crushed Peter. His arms wrapped around you, tugging you into his comforting embrace. You clutched at his shirt, terrified to let go. He whispered soothing words as your tears and blood stained his clothing.

May was working that night and when she heard she was asked for, she ran to the emergency room. You looked worse under the fluorescent lights. Every scratch, bruise, and gash visible.

She gasped, hand covering her mouth as she took in the sight before her. Your hand gripped Peter’s as he sat next to the bed, the nurse working to stitch the last cut on your cheek.

Your chin wobbled as May approached you, Peter fighting the urge to leave and hunt down whoever had done this to you. “Oh, sweetheart,” you whimpered at her words, Peter’s eyes squeezing shut at the pained cry, anger taking over his every thought.

You recanted your story to her as her eyes watered, Peter standing and leaving the room, not able to hear it again. He had been in the room as you told the police, giving vivid descriptions of the two men who had done this and you could tell he was burning it into his memory. She patted your bruised hand and went out to the hallway where he stood, hunched over, tears threatening to spill.

“Peter,” he looked at his aunt, eyes wild and breathing hard and short. “I’m gonna kill them, May. I’m gonna hunt them down and kill ‘em,” she stopped his pacing, hands going to his shoulders, forcing him to look at her.

“Listen to me. I know you’re angry. I know that. I’m angry too, but right now she is hurt and she is scared. You need to go in there, hold her hand, and show her she is safe. We will deal with the rest later,” as she talked, her tone firm to reach him, your shaky voice called out his name.

His head snapped to the door and nodded at his aunt's words. “Go on. Go. I need to talk to her doctor,” he hurried into the room, seeing your worried glance directed towards him.

He took your hand in both of his as he sat down, bringing your hand to his lips. “I’m here, bug. I’m here,” his hand pushed the hair off your forehead, offering a pained smile.

The doctor released you that night and Peter took you home, helping you get into bed. You both laid there in silence for a bit before he kissed the crown of your head. The pills helped you fall asleep, Peter’s tight grip comforting as you drifted off into a painful sleep.

All you wanted to do was say thank you and how much you loved him, but you grappled with your thoughts and couldn’t bring yourself to say them, knowing the repercussions could be too much to deal with.

When you woke up the next morning, Peter was still with you. You went through your morning routine together, turning the tv on in the living room as you sat down, Peter going to make you a smoothie so it would be easier to eat, not having to move your jaw.

“It seems as though Spider-Man had his mind set on vengeance last night. These two, originally unidentified men, were found early this morning, hanging from the Queensborough bridge, strung up by their hands. They were only hanging from the famous webs, their mouths webbed shut as well. They both had notes taped to their chests listing a string of crimes that these men had been tied to, including a vicious mugging that took place just last night resulting in the victim to be hospitalized, but was released in stable condition. Spider-Man saves the day, yet again, but now people are beginning to question his seemingly dark ways,” you stared at the news playing in front of you, muting it as she continued, critiquing the hero who had saved more lives than could be counted.

The two men who had robbed you and brutally beaten you were both strung up on the bridge, hanging only by their hands webbed to the underside of the bridge. Peter stood behind you as your eyes watered, his voice whispering into your ear.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there and I wasn’t. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t respond. I should’ve gone,” you shook your head, turning around on the couch, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him, pushing your head into his neck as his arms wrapped around you.

“Stop. You’ve done more than enough, Peter. You wouldn’t have known where I was. You had no idea,” he kissed your forehead, dodging a bruise and cut at your response. “I love you. I will always take care of you. Your smoothies ready, c’mon,” your heart soared and fluttered at his words, not able to respond as he grabbed your hand, taking you into the kitchen.

You sipped the smoothie, letting it easily come into your mouth, not having to do as much work. “Peter, this is just ice cream and milk. You made me a milkshake for breakfast.”

four

It had been weeks since the attack and your bruises had almost completely faded, your stitches had come out the second week. You felt almost completely back to normal, still a tad bit sore, but otherwise okay.

You checked the clock and saw it said just past five in the afternoon. You hadn’t seen Peter in two days and you were having withdrawals from him. Despite your injuries, you didn’t let it slow you both down. Peter was scared shitless to touch you the first time after the attack, but you assured him you were fine. That you needed him and trusted him.

His worries quickly faded as you domineered that night. You stopped at his favorite pizza place on the way to his apartment, opting to surprise your favorite boy with food and drink. His favorite things, despite you. Your love language was acts of service and you knew he would be over the moon with this delivery.

When you arrived at his apartment with your hands full, you kicked at the door. “Peter!” You heard shuffling and the door peeled open, Peter stood with his eyes rimmed red and deep bags under them, still adorning his Spider-Man suit.

“What the hell happened? Are you alright?” You pushed past him, setting the pizza box and beer on the counter as you dropped your bag to the floor, turning around and letting your hands go to his cheeks, observing him to see if he was injured.

He pulled you to him, capturing your lips and moaning at your taste. “God, I’ve missed you. I’m sorry, bug. I haven’t slept in two days. Between work and Spidey I haven’t been around,” you hushed him by taking his bottom lip between yours.

“Go shower, we’ll eat, and then you’re going to bed,” he groaned as you moved from him, hands pawing at you. “Shower with me,” you narrowed your eyes at him and hummed as his lips moved to your neck. “Please? Pretty please? I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been without you for forty-eight hours. I feel like I’m gonna die, baby. Please?” you giggled as his lips moved across your throat as he spoke, a whiny tone lacing through his words.

You sighed and pulled his head up, gazes locking. “Fine. Only cause you asked so nicely,” a victorious smile took over his face as he pulled you to the bathroom with him. You helped him get the suit off, having him enter the shower first as you removed your clothes, stepping into the warm spray of water.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, his fingers dancing over your ribs, lips moving on your shoulder and neck. A content sigh left you, feeling happier than ever when you were with your boy. He smirked as you stepped just a tiny bit backwards, feeling his hard-on press into your ass.

Peter wasted no time, lifting your leg with one hand and setting your foot on the shower built-ins, his dick running between your folds. “Pete, wait. I can’t get my hair wet,” he groaned, pulling it back with a free hand as your breathless response irritated him.

“I have shampoo here that you can use,” he slowly slipped into you as he talked, feeling your gummy walls accept him without restriction. “Ah-Peter, that’s-that’s not what I, fuck, meant,” you could feel how deep he sat in you, having your leg up allowed him to get an entirely new section of you.

Your toes sat pointed on the shower wall built-in as he pulled back and thrusted into you with an earth shattering force. The wind knocked out of you and you were seeing stars. The steam from the shower filled the bathroom as he pounded into you, one of his hands having a death grip on your hip and the other resting on your shoulder.

Your hair was long forgotten, being positively drenched and you would yell at him after, but when his fingers wrapped around your thigh, dipping in between your legs and began rubbing small circles on your clit, you came quickly.

His arms held you up, your back straight against his chest as he continued fucking into you, harder than before as he chased his own high, murmuring sweet praises to you about how good you were doing for him. Your walls fluttered around him as he rode you through your orgasm, his hips crashed into yours once more as he came in you.

He was out of breath, but he turned you around to face him and he looked at the inside of your thigh, seeing his cum drip in a steady stream. He kissed your collarbones and grabbed your hair with his hand and laughed. “I’m sorry about your hair,” you rolled your eyes as you grabbed his shampoo and squeezed it into your palm.

“Are you really, though?” He shook his head, arms wrapping around you again as you began lathering it into your hair. “Hmm, no. Not at all,” his lips kissed along your shoulder blades, you could feel his smirk as he did and you sighed, letting him do whatever he wanted.

Your feet sat in Peter’s lap, your hair wrapped in a towel, sitting in one of Peter’s old shirts as you ate pizza. The shirt hardly covered anything which Peter loved, but you had slipped your panties back on once exiting the shower, much to his dismay.

His head rested on the back of the couch, his hairs wet droplets dripping onto the material as his eyes slipped closed as he ate almost the entire pizza. Your fingers danced through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. He sighed, hand rubbing on your bare thigh.

You stood up, shutting the apartment down for the night as he watched you move around the space expertly. He smiled to himself, seeing how well you fit in here with him. How much he loved seeing you in his space like it was yours. Because to him it was yours. It had been yours since sixth grade when you first met. He had been yours since you were twelve.

Sure, he had dated around a bit, but not because he really wanted to. You had dated around and he didn’t want you to think he was waiting around for you. In reality, he was. He would always wait for you because he was yours. He just wanted you to figure it out. My god, he had said he loved you and you just hadn’t caught on. He chuckled at how utterly clueless you could be and how much he loved it. Peter knew about your difficulties with love and what it meant and he could wait. He would continue to wait until you were ready.

You heard him laugh and you eyed him, letting the towel fall to the floor, your hair coming loose from its grasp. “What’s so funny?” He grabbed your hand, pulling you onto his lap and shrugged. “Nothin’. You’re pretty that’s all,” your face burned at that, taking his jaw in your hand, connecting your lips together in a sleepy kiss.

He stood you both up, carrying you to his room bridal style. It would never fail to amaze you at how easy he was able to carry you. The man did lift cars and bridges and the occasional building from collapsing, but you weren’t used to it. At all. And he loved seeing how happy it made you and he swore to himself he would do it until the day he died as long as he got to see that dopey smile take over your face.

You took your side of the bed, wiggling under the covers as Peter took the space next to you, a loud sigh leaving him as he quickly felt sleep taking him over. You snuggled into his side, letting his arm wrap around you, his hand tucking your head into his neck.

He mumbled out before he fell asleep, pulling you from sleep's grasp as he did. “Thank you for taking care of me. Love you,” you kissed his neck and went to whisper, but he shushed you loudly. “I’m trying to sleep, ma’am. Please let me,” you smacked his chest, rolling away from him, but he groaned.

“No, no, no. Come back,” his arms wrapped around you from behind, spooning you until you both fell asleep.

You had told Peter you weren’t able to get together tonight because you had a work project that you absolutely had to get done tonight. You had developed the problem of anxiety induced insomnia your junior year of high school. When your anxiety got to be too much, you wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Your record had been three and a half days without sleep and when you told Peter he vowed to help you figure it out. You two had tested the waters for years, trying multiple different combinations of things that would eventually help you sleep. It had only been two years since the perfect concoction had been found.

Luckily, you hardly ever had to use it. Maybe once or twice a year tops and now that you knew the signs, you were able to stop it before it got too bad. However, this was the worst case you had had in years.

You were beginning to run for three days and you were still trying to push through work. You submitted the assignment, happiness and relief coursing through you as you finished. Your eyes roamed to the top of your screen and saw it was past one in the morning.

Dragging yourself to bed, you thought sleep was going to take you easy. It didn’t. You were on the verge of tears, over tired not even beginning to explain how you were feeling. When you checked your phone it read 2:52 am.

You knocked on the door in front of you multiple times until it finally opened, revealing a sleep riddled Peter. His eyes took you in, seeing the angry tears forming in your eyes. Your hair was a mess, you were in pajamas with a large coat over you, and you wrapped your arms around his shirtless torso.

He closed the door behind you, hands tilting your head up to look at you. His hair was an absolute mess, his eyes sleep heavy as he tried to blink to see you clearly in the dark room, the only light from above the stove.

“How long have you been up, bug?” You sniffled and put your head back against his chest. “Three days,” he nodded his head and brought you to his room, taking your coat off and having you lay down. The light streamed in from his bedroom window and you groaned, growing more angry and upset as the minutes passed by.

He came back into the room, a small cup of water and a bottle of pills in his hand. “Bug, I need you to take this for me. Can you do that?” You nodded your head as you held the vile tasting pill in between your teeth, forcing it down with the entire glass of water.

Peter came back to the room with a clip in his hand and two push pins. He clipped the curtains shut, pinning the sides to the wall so no excess light could get into the room. He pulled an extra fan out of the closet, plugging it in and facing it at the bed. Peter grabbed his phone and turned his small speaker on in his room.

The sounds of “Frosty the Snowman” from the Christmas Piano! record lightly played in the background. He shut the door and pulled the covers off of you, removing your sweats and sweatshirt, knowing that if you kept them on you would feel like you were trapped in bed, your mind playing tricks on you after being awake for so long.

Your overtired, frustrated tears all but stopped as he took his spot next to you. He sighed, rubbing lightly circles on your back and arm. He hated when you got like this. When your brain wouldn’t let you rest, it wouldn't shut off on its own. It couldn’t shut off on its own.

But he felt a sense of pride that you went to him for this. That you knew he could get you to sleep. He remembered all of the different trials that had failed as he tried to figure out what was going to get you to stop and rest. When you were exhausted you grew mad with yourself for not being able to get yourself down, but Peter knew he could and he did.

The night when he had figured out the code he wanted to jump for joy. Okay, maybe he did a little. Each time he did it after, it went quicker. The fastest you had ever fallen asleep after he worked his magic was eleven minutes and he was elated as you fell asleep.

You whispered out into the room as you laid with him. “Peter?” He hummed and let his hand go to your hair, scratching your scalp. “Yeah, bug?” You sighed and he felt tears on his neck, worry filling his senses as he pulled your head back to look at you.

His thumbs swept at the tears. “What’s wrong, baby?” You leaned up and kissed him, hearing the relief flow from him at your motion. “I love you so much. You take such good care of me. I love you, Peter,” he wanted to cry from the sheer happiness he felt in that moment. It was the first time in the years since he had known you that those words had come from you.

He kissed you deeper, laughing as he left kisses all over your face. “God, I’ve been waiting since we were twelve to hear those words!” You felt an immense tidal wave of guilt crash over you as you looked at him, his free hand rubbing over his face.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I don’t know why I can’t say it more. It just doesn’t come easy to me, but I love you and I have for a very long time. I’m sorry,” he shushed you as he pushed your head back down, seeing your eyes getting heavy.

“We’ll talk about it more in the morning, bug. You need to go to sleep. I love you,” you pecked his lips as he finished talking. “I love you, too, Petey,” your words were slurring together as you let your eyes close, listening to Frosty the Snowman play in the background, happier than ever with Peter by your side.

#ficthots #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #andrewgarfield!spiderman #andrewgarfield!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #peter parker andrew garfield #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!smut #peter parker x reader smut #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x reader smut

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lilies0fthevalley · 1 year

Text

the feeling of your heart shattering

fem!readerxjamespotter, no specific house for the reader/kind of implied gryffindor

You always knew that James adored Lily, he made sure to tell everyone. Of course you didn't really mind up until your fifth year when you suddenly started to feel your heart crack a little every time he brought up Lily. (It is now nearing the end of your sixth year)

"She's got the most amazing eyes, have you seen them y/n?" You felt the familiar feeling of your chest tightening at his words but you put on a smile. "yeah...I've known her longer than you have." James would have to be an idiot to not hear the sadness in your voice, and that's just what he was. James put on his biggest, brightest, smile as he spoke. Tapping his fingers like he was playing the drums, "I asked her out today, and guess what?" You dreaded the answer to his question but smiled back and asked in almost mock excitement "what did she say?" James let out a deep sigh, hunching over before springing up happily, "SHE SAID YES!! We are going to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow!" With that you stood up and hastily made your way to the door. "Y/n? Are you alright?" Without turning around you flatly muttered "headache, see you later."

Once you made it out of the library you started sprinting to your dorm hoping no tears would fall until you made it there. Eventually you did make it, feeling as though you were losing air. Closing the door to your empty dorm room, you slowly slid down to sit against the door.

That's when you felt it, you felt your heart shatter.

----------

You didn't leave your dorm for days, too afraid to face the now happy couple that is Lily and James. James had tried to check on you asking if you were sick or injured, but your dormmates always had an excused ready for you. You were incredibly grateful for them, they hadn't once asked you what was actually bothering you when you told them your lies. They also brought you food as did the other mauraders. "Y/n?" You see and ignore the raven hair of Sirius Black peek through the doorway, listening to him sigh sadly as he leaves you alone. Despite you not speaking much to anyone, he and Remus had been especially kind to you. Remus bringing you chocolate every so often, it mostly sat untouched on your night table. If chocolate could go stale his most definitely already had.

By the end of the third week, you had decided that your heart had healed enough to go back to class. You also had to go because your grades were dropping and no one was worth your future.

You were cautious leaving your dorm that morning, nervous that any sighting of James would send you into hysterics once more. You had skipped breakfast to avoid him but you knew that wasn't the reason you felt sick to your stomach this morning. You had Charms next, the class in which you sit next to James. You took slow, weary, steps as you walked up the large staircase. But as you walked you thought, slowly forgetting the nervous pit that had dug itself into your stomach this morning. As you rounded the corner, you slowly start to smile. You and James could still hang out, you guys could still be friends. You made your way to your seat which was not visible from the door, "morning Sirius, how are you?" He smiled, "Better now that your looking a lot better." You smile at Sirius' compliment, it only boosting your confidence in the fact that James would sti-

The she was, her long, red, hair and beautiful green eyes. There she was, in your seat. In that moment, it all clicked. The reason James stopped checking in on you after the second day, the reason Remus had glanced at you with eyes full of guilt. James didn't need you, in fact, he didn't want you. Had he been waiting this whole time? Yes you may have been friends with Lily but James wouldn't ever use you to get to her...

Soon enough, your suspicions were confirmed as James turned to you with smiling eyes. Because hidden in his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes, was guilt. It took all of thirty seconds for your entire world to come crashing down, you had been used, James never loved you in any way. With one last sad smile at him, you turned on your heel and left.

Feeling your heart shatter once again.

#marauders #james potter #james potter angst #marauders era #sirius orion black #remus lupin #gryffindor #sirius x reader

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captainsophiestark · 6 months

Text

Go Bearcats

Luke Castellan x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Prompt: Hermes; Travel, boarders, games

Summary: The summer before Percy Jackson came to Camp Half Blood, Luke Castellan's SO convinced him to leave camp with them for a new life.

Word Count: 1,175

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I cannot believe you did that to me," I said, shaking my head in disgust with my boyfriend, Luke Castellan. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry. But it was the best way for me to win."

"Cheating isn't winning."

"Technically, choosing an object outside of the car that we left in the dust ten miles ago isn't cheating."

"You sound like Malcom," I huffed, crossing my arms and leaning back in my seat. Luke just chuckled, shooting me a grin from the driver's seat as we cruised along the highway. Luke and I had been in the car for almost three hours now, on the sixth day of our cross-country road trip from camp. For the first time in a very long time, we were leaving the place we'd called home and had never really been allowed to leave.

I'd gotten to Camp Half-Blood the year after Luke, although we were the same age, and with one exception that hadn't gone well, neither of us had left the camp's boarders since. Until now.

This past year, Luke and I had decided it was time for us to leave, to go do something with our lives now that we were both technically adults. Sitting day after day, month after month, within the boarders of Camp Half Blood wasn't sustainable for the rest of our lives, and I'd noticed it having a bad effect on Luke especially. So, we'd spent the last year preparing for and submitting applications to college, and by some miracle we'd both gotten into the same place. Annabeth, although she would only be starting sixth grade in the coming weeks, had helped us a lot, and about six days ago Luke and I had officially left camp with the end goal of Salem, Oregon in mind.

It hadn't been an easy road trip, especially since we couldn't use phones to help with navigation. But we'd managed alright. We were together, after all, and I swear with every mile we put between us and Camp Half-Blood Luke's spirits had lifted. Enough for him to tease me while cheating at I Spy.

"Alright, new game," I declared, sitting forward in my seat and looking at the scenery around us. "How about... twenty questions?"

"Sure," Luke said, still with a little laugh in his voice. As annoying as his cheating was, I couldn't ignore how happy I was to see him smiling so freely again.

"Alright... I've got something, go ahead."

Luke and I passed another hour that way, laughing as we thought up more and more ridiculous things to try to get the other to guess. After four years of knowing each other and dating for a year and a half of that, we knew each other well enough that truly stumping each other was basically impossible. After Luke successfully guessed that I was thinking of a bearcat, our new school's mascot (whatever the hell a bearcat was), he pointed up ahead of us instead of continuing the game.

"Look, we're officially crossing the boarder from Idaho to Oregon. Last one before we get to school."

"Home stretch," I said, smiling and reaching over the console in the middle of the car to take Luke's hand. "I'm glad we decided to do this."

"Me too."

A little glimpse of the storm clouds passed over his face, but unlike at camp, this time they cleared quickly. He shot me another smile as we drove over the state line and into Oregon. With more than two thousand miles in our rearview mirror, only about two hundred were left between us and the newest chapter in our lives.

"I hope Annabeth's going to be alright without us there," Luke said after moment's hesitation. We'd both been hesitant to completely leave her behind, but she'd assured us all summer that she wanted us to go.

"I'm sure she will be," I said. "Besides, we can Iris Message her all the time to keep in touch. It'll be like we never left."

"It's times like this that the no technology thing gets... frustrating."

"What?" I asked, feigning surprise and putting a hand to my heart to really sell the drama. "You're telling me you're not looking forward to taking only paper notes for college, and to figuring out how to turn in assignments without using a computer?"

"Believe it or not, no," said Luke with a little laugh. There was no question that the year ahead of us would be incredibly strange and full of challenges, but I knew we'd figure out a way through them, together. That's what all our training at camp had been for, after all. Although, the problem solving they'd been preparing us for had been a little more combat-based.

"Maybe Annabeth can come visit us for a break or something," I mused, kicking back in my seat and watching the trees fly past us on either side. I'd never been this far West before, and it looked incredibly different than anything I saw back home.

"Do you still want to visit camp over the winter break?" he asked. His voice was casual, but I thought I heard something else underneath his words, something a little more tense and brittle. "Go back for the Winter Solstice on Olympus?"

I paused, thinking my words over carefully and trying to gauge how Luke felt. Finally, tentatively, I responded.

"I don't know... If we're settled in here, and neither of us really wants to fly... I don't know if I'll want to leave our new lives after only four months being here."

Luke nodded, and I thought I saw his shoulders relax, just slightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so too. We can decide later, of course, but... I think I want to stay here too."

I squeezed his hand lightly, and gave him a warm smile when he turned to look at me. He returned with a grin of his own, and after a moment of just enjoying the moment here, together, the two of us against the world, I leaned forward and cranked up the volume on the radio.

A little bit of luck must've followed us so far, because one of my absolute favorite songs was on, and I didn't hesitate to scream-sing the words at the top of my lungs. By the end of the day, Luke and I would be moving into a tiny apartment we'd found just on the edge of campus. In the morning, we'd gather materials and get ready to start our classes, and then the day after our new lives would begin. I had a feeling we probably wouldn't go back to our old lives, ever, even though Luke didn't seem to want to talk about permanently closing that door yet. But I didn't mind. The Olympians were overrated anyway, and I'd be happy to live like a normal college kid with the guy I loved, free from their influence and the problems they brought with them.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Percy Jackson Taglist: @valkyriepirate

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tacroyy · 8 months

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first week of school. also want to add that ill try to do content warnings better for these! haven’t done a good job of that at all. mentions of racial and ableist slurs, discussion of stressed kids, food insecurity, institutional neglect and harm, general discussion of trauma

ok, thursday and friday weren’t bad other than me being beyond exhausted. i truly couldn’t have functioned without my adhd meds. the seventh graders are fucking amazing and we had The Best discussion, totally out of the blue, about prejudicial language, specifically the n-word and the r-word (both are problems at our school 🙃). i basically don’t have classroom management over them rn (or at least am not bothering to Exert It) bc their other teachers are Overreacting and being Too Intense bc it’s the start of the year so since they already know me it’s all steam blowing off in my class but honestly that’s fine. they don’t have to be non-feral until next week bc i just want them to Relax right now. the sixth graders just got lockers and are Going Through It emotionally so there’s a lot of “breathe, try again” and “nobody is doing tardies right now” bc some of them literally haven’t developed their fine motor skills enough yet and our locks and lockers are, no lie!!!!!, forty years old and Cranky. so that’s a lot of unregulated stress to channel off. i think i say this twice a week but i Do Not Understand how ANYONE teaches elementary school. makes No sense to me. beginning of sixth grade is often too young for me, really; so many of them haven’t developed that, like, independent rationality yet, and it’s A Lot when there are So Many of them.

the ideal way to end this first week would have been to have like a half day for prep so we could meet w teachers, contact parents/guardians, do sped referrals, seating chart upheavals, etc. there’s a lot of “ah, okay, here’s what This batch needs” even 3 or 4 days in, and it would just be so lovely and useful and productive and overall good for everyone to have that. for example i overheard a convo that made it clear that a family hadn’t signed their kid up for free lunch this year and so the kid didn’t get lunch so i had to run around and tell the right people (teachers don’t have access to that info) and make sure they got fed and all but it took my whole prep, and im obviously delighted to do that, but then i didn’t have any prep time and did my last three classes on the fly. not that this kind of thing doesn’t happen most days. it’s just that more prep time is imo the number one thing we need as a profession. i cant begin to express how much it would help everyone.

plus there are, as always, the kids that i just want to have a four hour productive meeting about every single day, where we hash out an Actual Plan. with a social worker, a reading specialist, a developmental psychologist, a pediatrician, a therapist, a sped expert, a speech therapist, an occupational therapist, a case manager, a para AND an ea and a secretary for notes. instead it’s me and the counselor who has a 250 kid caseload for ten minutes in the hall.

ive had a dream for a while, since grad school actually, of studying the affect of referred trauma on kids’ peers and school faculty and staff, especially peers and faculty and staff who also have trauma. the amount of shit that slides off of me now because you Have to grow the most perfectly balanced shield of “i will Act on this and Not ignore it” and “i must Remain Calm” and “I’ve just heard the Worst Thing Ever and have to teach for another four hours”. what does it do to you long term? what about the ones who get inured? and the ones who don’t? how can we actually help people handle this well? i know there’s So much stuff out there about secondary/vicarious trauma, and trauma informed education, and i want to be able to know if it’s at all useful or if it’s too tainted to use, like i now expect from basically all educational academia. to be clear i have already done a lot of work in this area but not for a while, and i wanted to reframe the fundamentals.

so glad we have a three day weekend now.

#eedutalk

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panlight · 2 years

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Do you think that MEYER would write Charlie becoming a vampire? He gets hurt or terminally ill, etc. Charlie doesn't strike me as someone who would WANT to be immortal but if Charlie being immortal makes BELLA happy...I feel like Meyer would write Charlie as being weirdly fine with being a vampire, just so that there's still no chance of Bella being unhappy in literally any way.

Right, the only way I see it happening is if it's part of BELLA's perfect forever. She gets to keep Charlie . . . until death. I could see a scenario where SM wants to let her keep him forever. I mean, Edward has his "parents" Esme and Carlisle, so Bella should get to keep Charlie (I'm not saying I agree with this, and obviously it's different because Edward only became C/Es' son post-vampirism, but I could see SM laying it out like this).

And yeah if SM wrote it then Charlie would be weirdly chill and everyone would be like "huh I guess it runs in the family!" and Nessie would delight in having Grandpa around forever and it would just feel even more forced and artificial and "wait aren't these people supposed to be vampires?" than Breaking Dawn did.

Personally I agree that Charlie wouldn't want to be immortal or a vampire, and I think if we had a scenario where Charlie was on death's door, the other Cullens would articulate that to Bella, especially if he were elderly at that point. A long life is the natural order of things; vampirism is not. I know SM would say that vampires are drawn to young and beautiful people because of aesthetic reasons but to me it makes sense Carlisle, as a doctor especially, turned young people because they hadn't had the chance to really live yet. He says it with Rosalie, so much waste. He wouldn't feel the same about a 82-year-old Charlie dying in hospice. He might actually envy him.

See, for me, the obvious conclusion is that immortality SEEMS like a great idea but becomes miserable at some point. I've felt this way since I was a kid. I wrote some short story for English class in like sixth grade about the lost city of Atlantis and how the immortality and isolation was torture blah blah blah. So this idea of like "oh yay!!!! Bella's immortal now! and her husband's immortal! and her daughter's immortal! and her best friend is immortal! let's make her dad immortal too!" just makes me go, okay that might seem great for awhile but for how long?

Either you just have to surrender every last vestige of your humanity and become totally feral and Other, or eventually the weight of outliving everyone, of being stuck at one age forever, at never having those experiences of middle and old age, will start to wear on you. It just seems inevitable to me. And Edward seemed to be already feeling it in Midnight Sun. Bella and Renesmee will be a reprieve for awhile, but . . .

Immortality is at best a mixed blessing IMO. I don't think the fairy tale is sustainable even with perfect love and a perfect family. The other Cullens certainly didn't read to me like they were in perfect bliss all the time. Having Charlie join them won’t fix it either. And then what? Renee? Phil? Bella’s favorite authors? The nice person at the bookstore Bella can’t bear to think of dying some day?

You picked immortality, Bella. You have to learn to let people go.

#asks

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jwcnsz · 2 years

Text

enhypen as cliché movie tropes (maknae line)

ʜʏᴜɴɢ ʟɪɴᴇ | ᴍᴀᴋɴᴀᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ

enhypen maknae line x gn!reader

warnings; swearing

genre; fluff

word count; 900+

a/n; second part omgg i got pretty good feedback on the first part so i hope u guys like this one too! sunoo's part had me giggling and kicking my feet its disgustingly cute also rikis is lowkey based off of boys over flowersrurvui

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sunoo; friends to lovers

you've been friends with sunoo since middle school. he was the first person who talked to you in sixth grade when you were alone. until now you still remember his bright smile and his soft voice asking for the seat next to you. of course you obliged and that led to the most wonderful friendship you've ever had. you're still friends even in your senior year, it just proves how close you two are. but something was different now. there was lingering stares, randomly brushing your hands against each other, feeling butterflies when you looked at him. it took a bit before you came to a conclusion. i... like kim sunoo. you stared into space as you thought that. the most logical thing is telling him, right? that won't affect our friendship... right? you worked up the courage to talk to him. when you told him about how you felt he stayed quiet. he was staring at his feet. you were scared and felt you did something wrong. you took a deep breath before starting. "look, i know you may not-" "me too." he cut you off. sunoo looked into your eyes. "i like you too, y/n. i just never thought you'd feel the same." he looked down again and blushed. you smiled and lifted his head with your hands, cupping his face. "how could i not feel the same when it's about you, hm?" you give him a quick peck and move back with a giggle. he stared at you in shock for a few seconds before smiling. oh how you loved his smile. "so can i have another one?" he asked with a playful tone. and of course you granted his wish. senior year is gonna be fun.

jungwon; academic rivals

you didn't know how you felt about jungwon if you were being honest. you didn't hate him, no, far from that. but he wasn't your best friend either. you both are top of your class and constantly fighting for the top spot. you never really talked to him. at least until now. he stood in front of you with a shy look. “so you want me to help you this semester? why me?” you were curious as to why he went with you and not an actual tutor. “because you’re the only person here who can actually understand what we’re doing.” he said lowly. so you agreed to helping him. with every session you guys got closer and closer until you eventually became friends. curiosity struck you and you wondered if jungwon had a crush. he has to have a crush. who doesn't? you were going to find out. so in your next session you decided to ask him. "hey won, do you have a crush on anyone?" he choked on air and went into a coughing fit. he stopped coughing a few seconds later and answered you. "um... yeah. you probably know them." your eyes widened. "i do?! who is it? tell me jungwon! pleaseee-" "no." he cut you off before looking back at his work. "oh, come on!" you rolled your eyes. you sat in silence for a couple of minutes before asking again. "is it... jay?" you asked him. he looked at you with a stern look. "y/n, why the fuck would i have a crush on jay?" he asked annoyed. "i mean there's nothing wrong with being gay, you know." you said. "Y/N PLEASE JUST MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS." he yelled out into the empty classroom. "damn... no need to get an-" "if you're so curious as to who i fucking like, it's you." he cut you off again in an angry tone. you were about to yell at him for interrupting you for the second time that day before you let his words register in your head. "you- you WHAT?" you were so confused. "oh, whatever." he got up and walked out of the classroom leaving you alone. you were gonna have to talk to him. and if the talk led to something more then even better.

riki; enemies to lovers

god, you hated his fucking guts. you watched as the popular boy of the school, nishimura riki, made fun of the poor girl who only wanted to give him a small gift. the girl currently had the gift on the floor and half the school watched as riki kicked the gift around. you felt your blood boil. you were new to this school but you already knew this guys full name and what he did to others. he has a pretty big reputation here. you decided you'd put a stop to this whole thing. big mistake. "hey, you!" you yelled out and pointed at riki. he turns to look at you with a confused look. he looked around until he pointed at himself. "are you... are you talking to me?" he asked, looking you up and down. "yeah i am. who the fuck do you think you are, huh?" loud gasps were heard everywhere. "i'm sorry, what? who the fuck do YOU think you are to talk to me like that?" he scoffed. "you aren't worth my time." he said rolling his eyes and walking away. "what a fucking asshole..." you mumbled as everyone walked away while staring at you. later on you had more and more encounters with him and with each one you realized that maybe there was more to him that met the eye. eventually you knew him well enough for him to be your friend. he was at your hip most of the time. and you somehow changed him too. he was nicer, more accepting. and it was all because of you. and then you both fell in love soon after. and you couldn't have been happier with how this all played out.

taglist <3; (if u wanna be tagged send a message/ask!)

reqs are OPEN!

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #nishimura riki #i got lazy on rikis part im sorry y’all it’s late #also i finished this up on my phone so if the format is weird im sorry

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annakacoyett · 6 months

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Parents, whatever you do, please please PLEASE don't take away your children's lifelines, especially when they're in a vulnerable age.

Today, my dad made me delete my AO3 account and the emotional pushback was one of the worst feelings I've experienced.

It's not like it was unguided either, nor was the decision to do so uninformed.

My dad only wants the best for me, both my parents do, and I know that. I know that they love me, and I know that they'll be there for me in more ways than one.

But on some days, it's really fucking hard to see that.

Today was one of those days.

I've been briefed with the dangers of the internet at that start of grade five. I have had my issues with technology misuse as well. In those times, my only interest was youtube and shitty (and I say that with the most loving tone possible) gacha glms with cliche plotlines.

I loved reading, anyone that knows me can tell you that. I have more books stacked in my room than my mom's study. I also love animes and cartoons--- what kid doesn't? I discovered Darling In The FRANXX that summer and I was hooked (the love story was tragic and it was one of the first times I felt the hurt).

I love stories, I love reading them, I love imagining myself as one of characters as well.

So you can imagine what 11 year old me did when she found the existence of fanfiction. Of AO3 and a bunch of other sites like Fanfic.net, Wattpad and Quora.com.

I was estactic, more ways than one. One of the best things that came from that eye opening discovery for me was the community behind it.

People sharing their work for free? Other people loving it and being supportive to the author simply because they can? The entire treasure trove of possibilities and stories that everyone made, shared, and got love for it?

The entire concept was forgein to sixth grade me.

I was aware it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. I know how cyberbullying works, I've seen how hateful and downright terrible people can be behind a screen, hell, one of my best friends was being bullied by the entire grade that way.

(Reported it and got every single one of my acquaintences marked black on their student records that year. Some tried to bully me afterwards but by that point, I was armed with quirkless vigilante Midoriya Izuku stories and as an inspiring artist, I was feeling particularly creative. I won the school's art talent show that year with my comic being sent to every parent, student and teacher on the school's email list (Covid-19's only contribution to my life).)

Me being me, I signed up for AO3. I read for a while, and doing not much else. I had over 20 tabs opened on any given day, all with different stories. I wandered around many fandoms, all related to the media I was consuming at the time.

I remembered thinking 'why doesn't this certain fic exist?' After all, the entire concept of fanfiction was to create things that don't ever get to see the light of day otherwise, right?

I didn't hit me until the annual book week competiton (online) the school held.

I was supposed to write them. Write the stories that I love so much. Give that tiny idea a spark of life, and watch it expand and embrace other readers lovingly.

English is my second language, and my grammar was actrocious until I started reading. Reading fanfics. I never realized how annoying not having the right sequence of words can be, for the writer and for the reader as well.

Until I saw with my own two eyes a badly writen Wattpad oneshot with P.O.V. formatting and horrible first person perspective.

My writing skills improved, and my teachers were questioning me left and right about my supposed misuse of 'online writing/paraphrasing tools'. It was amazing seeing how my grades improved.

But I was still hesitant.

I asked my mom to see if I should write a story that I thought of. She told me fiction wouldn't help me later in life, that living in a delusional fantasy world wasn't what made her and dad sucessful (in words a 6th grader can unserstand).

I asked my dad the same thing. He looked me in the eyes and told me that if I couldn't solve a motherfucking math problem as easy as the one I asked him for help the other day*, I shouldn't be daydreaming about doing useless shit like this (again, in words an eleven year old could understand).

*I was learning the Ontario ciriculum. Dad learned the government issued one when he was a kid. The contents taught at different grades vary, because they both have different endgames (my school aims to improve on student's learning skills (responsibility, cooperation, initative, etc.) while his was focused on material study value (memorizing formulas, being able to write a 6 page discriptive essay in twenty minutes, memorizing the periodic table, etc.)). What I was learning was taught to him at grade 4. He was very frustrated that I couldn't solve a simple math problem on basic probability while I was panicking/crying next to him because I didn't understand what he was yelling at me for.*

My sister was begging me to spare people from my crazy ideas because she being tortured with them was enough (she was three years younger than me).

I was lost, to be honest. But again, fanfiction spoke to me like some deranged fandom god and I remebered a line that basically boiled down to 'If you give up because haters want you to, they're winning.'

So I wrote my first fanfiction. Took me a week to muster up the courage to post it.

I waited.

Three hours later, I had my first hit.

I was up in the clouds. Somebody read it. Someone read my supposedly idiotic idea.

Twleve hours later, my first kudos came in.

I was in heaven all over again.

Days, weeks, months passed.

And the support and love just kept coming in.

I was happy. I found my community. I have people showing me that they appreciated my hard work, my dedication to my story. I improved so much since I started. I learned that it was okay to be burnt out. I learned that it was perfectly fine if you needed a break from other people, sometimes even your hobby. I learned that not everyone enjoys the same thing, and to not really mind it if I get a mean comment here and there. I learned that if it was there choice to read my work, hate on it, and make that hate known when they could've pressed the 'go back' button, they aren't worth my emotional strength.

The AO3 community taught me more about life than my own parents. It happened in the span of eight months.

I walked into grade 7 with a spring in my step, with a new confidence in myself. Fanfic stayed with me throughout those times, even when puberty forced me to make some incredibly irrational decisions during my mood swings.

Writing, creating, and sharing my artworks became one of my lifelines. It was something I loved. Loved more than reading itself.

In 8th grade, I made new friends. A new girl transferred, and she was basically glued to her laptop with her large, heavy glasses falling off every 10 minutes. I engaged her in conversation, and she asked me if I watched Haikyuu.

That opened a new dam of possibilities.

I didn't watch the anime, nor did I read the manga, but I was circulating around crossovers long enough to know much of the storyline (TPN x Haikyuu! was one of my favorites).

She and I became fast friends.

It became clear to me that she has issues of her own. Issues that I once had, but much more severe.

She starved herself during lunch for over two months because she didn't have enough time to complete her never ending extracirricular work that her parents made her do. She was shitting terrified of her own mother, so much so that during our Halloween party, she was having a panic attack and trying to eat glass because the container of food she brought broke (it dropped because someone bumped into her) and her mother made it (it took three of us to hold her back and my homeroom teacher (bless you Mr. Kaan) telling her to blame him if her mother asks for her to stop trying to hospitalize herself). She had emotional breakdowns over every single grade she recieved because it wasn't a perfect score like her parents were expecting (her grades averaged around 89-99 depending on the subject).

I did my best to help her, but I could only do so much as a kid.

So I gave her what held me through my self-justified fights with my family--- AO3, fanfiction and creative writing.

She came a long way since then. Her changes were astounding and her personality shifted from 'desperate people pleaser' to 'eccentric but pretty chill lunatic'. Her mother was less than pleased with how obnoxiously weird her daughter was getting, but my friend was finding herself again after 9 years of dedicating her life to academics and no way in hell was I going to let her feel bad about that.

My own grades were around a 95% average, and my parents were happy. My English mark only got better, and I also wrote a fic in Vietnamese to further strengthen my native writing.

Then shit hit the fan.

I came home today exhausted from school--- my head was a mess, highschool wasn't easy; especially when you have PE last period. I dropped dead on my bed as soon as a stepped into my room, sweaty uniform and all.

When I woke up, dad was home and three hours passed.

I took a shower, did some prep for dinner while waiting for my mom to finishing her run, and relaxed on the couch with my sister and dad.

Dad looked at me and said 'Oh yeah. [OP] you're not allowed to write those stories of yours anymore.'

I asked him why. He won't just randomly do things like this.

'You're a kid, you don't understand the dangers of the internet.'

He then proceeded to list out the suicide statistics from people who ended themselves from the hate they recieved online.

It's a horrible thing.

But I already knew that. I knew since I was given my dusty old tablet that needed an ethernet cable to work. That was four years ago.

What astonised me was that it took my dad, a man who was resourceful and very competent, four fucking years to find out about this.

I distinctly remember him making me quit a fandom discord server after my sister befriended someone online and got not so nice things said to her. I also distinctly remember him reading through my messages, private ones with my friends, classmates and teachers in my DMs, groupchats and emails to make sure i wasn't slacking off. He also had his IT guy install a tracking function on my laptop to monitor my shit.

I get where he was taking this--- he and mom didnt have the best online support sharing their experiences in life. They got harrased, hated on, walked all over and accused of horrible things. My parents braved through it all, and never faltered even if they got spitted on.

Now that he was armed with the knowlegde that I could potentially be harmed to death, something even worst than what he experienced, he wasn't willing to give it up to chance.

Dad didn't believe I was ready. He thought I was lucky to haven't encountered a single mean comment before he got his wake up call and enforced this. He doesn't believe in the existence of a communtiy that didn't gain anything for their contributions, but still existed.

It was too good to be true for him, and he told me as such.

I was the younger one here, by decades. I was his kid, and I was the bumbling fawn that didn't know better.

I was told I didn't understand, wouldn't understand what he was doing for me.

My mom agreed.

But I did.

I know what they're trying to do. I know that they only want the best for me, that they didn't want me to face the dangers yet.

But I already have, and came out victorious on the other side, better than ever.

I told them so seriously, and added that I was aware of the dangers and already seen what it was like. I saw what it can do to a person, my fifth grade bestie wad proof of that, and was on the recieving ends of some nasty hate myself.

This didn't deter them, only alarmed them about how nonchalant I was being. They told me I was delusional, that I was adeicted to finding praise and validation by strangers on the internet and that I was wasting my time and effoet over a useless hobby that didnt give me anything in return. That I was being a hormonal teenager who only pushed her loving parents away, that frankly nobody cares about my works, that it's shit compared to what other better, more talented and much more sucessful people have written.

They said the fact that I've seen what vitirol could be spilled online and haven't ran away with my tail betwen my legs only proved that I was vulnerable to the clutches of such a toxic environment. That I wasn't ready for the hate, and I don't need unwarranted attention over some words that a baby could babble.

That's what they said.

That was not true.

That was SO not true.

I wasn't delusional, I wasn't a starry eyed kid that was naive to the horrors of society. I didn't waste my time, I didn't maintain a 'unsustainable' hobby because of my need to feel uselessly egoistic. I wasn't being irrational over my hurt, I wasn't being weak for standing strong against the wave.

I know I wasn't the best out there, that so many more could do better than me. I learned I didn't need to work for love, that it should be given freely for those that need it. I understood that my works of art are unique and I should feel proud of them, and I believe I did it even better than they could have.

I have pride in my works, my accomplishments, my understanding and lessons that I've learned independent from what my real life adult figures taught me.

And it paid off. My works have 3-4k hits each.

Three thousand to four thousand people have read my story. My works that my family didn't believe was any good.

Even my cousins, whom I see as my older siblings, were skeptical of how sucessful I was until it smacked them right in the face.

I was proud of what I did, and I have every right to.

My dad wasn't happy.

I put up a fight. I didn't want to give up my babies, I didn't want to abandon my unfinished projects. I have three running series, I have friends that I supported, that supported me. I have people tell me how much my work meant to them, and I told other authors how much their works meant to me as well.

My mom had this thing were she tells me to do something that she wanted me to do that was either out of my comfort zone, I wasn't ready to or just plain refused--- and that she'll tell me I did a good job afterwards.

It was empty praise. But I still did it because it was the only validation I recieved as a child.

Then I had other people tell me that I did good, out of their violation. That I was amazing, that I should be proud of myself. These were total strangers on the internet. Someone behind the screen loved what I did more than my mom, my dad, my sister, my family.

It helped me. It was pretty much the only stable support pillar I had that I knew I didn't need to uselessly maintain. That the communtiy would still be there for me even if I stopped posting for several years and never came back.

Everything that I had was destroyed with a psuh of a button. Dad gave an ultimatum.

Either I never post again, delete my account completely and never step foot into AO3 again, even for reading; or all my technology would be conficasted until I did so.

It was a no brainer. I would've easily given up my techno privilegdes for my stories to live on.

But theres a catch.

Finals was in four weeks.

And in those four weeks, I have summative projects and assignments that were worth up to 50% of my grade.

I can't do any of those projects or the finals itself without my tech.

Dad knew this. He sent me some study material just yesterday.

And he was there, watching my mom press the delete button. I wasn't even able to orphan my works--- mom pressed the 'delete completely' option.

I'm angry.

I'm mad.

I'M LIVID.

I am sobbing while writing this. It hurts. It so goddam bad. It hurts because your only reliable source of support was taken away violently. It hurts because you parents treat you like a maniac anti-fan. And that they're so stuck up in their heads that they didn't even consider what it would do to me.

Dad asked me why I didn't tell them before, why I didn't come to them as soon as I saw my first hate comment, why I still stick to this despite them teaching me better. Why I felt the need to share my works to the world, because it's obviously because I want the praise.

The man that told me my works were useless and shit just two minutes before, was asking me this.

I wanted to tell him how I cried myself to sleep the day someone wrote how bad my spelling was. To tell him how his words and actions had hurt me today as much as it did years ago. How much of my efforts I put in to even get a simple 'good work' from them with varying degrees of success. How my best friend's first ever fanfic was gifted to me, on that account, because I was the only one who supported her in her dark times. How mom dragged me kicking and screaming to my first book week writing competition against my will, nearly annhiliating my desire to write before I found my community.

How recieving each kudos felt, how reading every suppoetive comment was like. How waking up one day to see a long-forgotten fic that I'd subscribe to had updated, how giddy I feel when finding just the right fic that had all elements I wanted.

It hurts.

It hurts so damn much.

My account was gone four hours ago, and I'm crying on and off for the tye majority of it.

It hurts because I loved it. I loved everything to do with my works--- the ideas, the writing, the motivational dips and dives, but most importantly, I loved sharing my work to the world.

Because I'm comforted by the fact that somewhere out there, my idea was still alive, and people are still reading it.

It hurts because my characters are part of me. Their characterization was so different from their originals, but it was my charcterization that lived to tell the tale.

It hurts because my love was there, my art was there, my people were there. Ones that don't blame me, ones that appreciate me, ones that understand me, all through a screen.

It hurts because I wrote those fics as what I wished would've happened to me, that I know could've happened to me had I have someone to guide me.

It hurts because I know that people loved my ideas and urged me to write more. Are WAITING for me to write more.

It hurts because I couldn't imagine a day were I wouldn't have taken 5 minutes out of my day and read a masterpiece, write one, or search for one.

It hurts because those wonderful stories made me laugh, made me cry, made me happy and sad and all sorts of other things.

It hurts because I enjoyed every single one of those moments.

It hurts because I spent the last four hours typing this and crying and still couldn't find the right ways to say that IT HURTS.

I hate it.

Hate this feeling. Hate my decision to stand by. Hate that my works are gone forever.

Some part of me hates it, loathes that I managed to forgive my parents for this, that I understood they meant well.

It hurts so damn much.

I want to scream. I want to kick a wall. I want to throw myself out of the motherfucking window.

I didn't do any of that.

I just cried.

It hurts so much because I know people in real life that loves my works, that appreciate my efforts, that know I wasn't just some kid that had no idea what's happening.

It hurts because those people weren't my parents.

My parents were the ones who laughed those ideas off. My parents were the ones who scrunched their noses and reminded me time and time again how much money I was costing them for the betterment of my life. My parents were the ones that love me, that I know I love, but took and torn away my love and forced me to shut it tight somewhere no one can see.

One question my dad asked me was why I didn't show him my works. Why I wanted to share it with total strangers.

This is why.

I showed it to him, once. I showed it to my mom, once. I showed it my sister, once.

Dad criticized my use of vocabulary, telling me I could do better and that to not waste my time on this.

Mom demanded to know why I wasn't working on something worthwhile, like my persuasive writing skills to aid my college application, but this.

My sister's was perhaps the kindest reaction I got.

She laughed.

She laughed so hard she had tears down her eyes, chortling uncontrollably at my six hour piece of work.

She laughed and then asked me to never write again, childishly repeating what my parents told me to in over a hundred different ways but directly.

I remebered it like it was yesterday.

She laughed, but she cared.

My sister was the only one who bothered to look at my fics, gave me any feedback and told our relatives about my work.

She was trying to make fun of me, of course, like the baby sister she is. But she cursed out my cousin who was joking about a charcter in my fic in all the curse words a tiny little kid like her knows.

My first reader was my sister, not my parents.

The first genuienely supportive comment was from a total stranger on the internet, not my parents.

The first adult to wholeheartedly read my fics, who loved what I did, was my 8th grade homeroom teacher, not my parents.

The first adult who gave me ideas as fellow fanfic author, who talked fanfic to me, was my elementary librarian, not my parents.

The ones who rupoed me away from all of that, who gave me so much grief in most terrifying fifteen minutes of my life, the ones who destroyed my golden pillar with the push of a button wasn't the dangers they warned me of, but my parents.

I think it hurts so much is because of two reasons.

One: everything I loved about myself, everything I could keep to myself, everything in my own colorful teenage world, everything that I made by myself, for myself, was non existant as of five hours ago.

Two: the people that caused it were my parents, ones I wished were everything I had against the world.

Dad told me once, that I need to be mindful of the tools I used, because if I'm not careful, they'll hurt me someday.

I find myself digusting comparing my parents as the tools in that saying, but it's true.

I still love them. I still love them aftet everything today.

But I hate them for doing that. I hate them for cutting away my lifeline.

So parents, guardians, caretakers, etc.--- please, please, PLEASE don't take away your child's lifeline. You don't know if that's their last, you won't know if you're not one of them.

For their sake.

#rant post #tw vent #parents #ao3 fanfic #please dont do this to your kids #it really #really hurts #i just want to put this out there for anyone that needs to hear this #just want to sleep en

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