#and my brain is anxiety spiraling a little over this which is really annoying

[strniohoeee]

Could you write a Matt x fem y/n where she gets overwhelmed with life (or something like that) and she tries to hide it from Matt. She fails miserably and in telling him what’s wrong she has a panic attack, so he has to guide her through it. Like kind of angsty in the beginning but very fluffy in the end? If that’s okay with you?

Trapped

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is struggling to balance her stressful life without realizing it. Unable to figure out what’s wrong some questions from Matt make her spiral and panic takes place🗣️

Warnings⚠️: None it’s just short 😭

Song for the imagine: Silver Soul- Beach House

Trap

(Past tense) Trapped

Verb

Prevent (someone) from escaping from a place

Lately my mind has been clouded by this overwhelming feeling of stress. I’m not usually a stressed person, but when I do find myself getting overwhelmed I handle it well.

But right now in this moment I wasn’t sure what was wrong and why I couldn’t control these feelings. I suppose it’s true that stress is a silent killer.

I couldn’t really pinpoint why my mind was racing and I felt this impending doom waiting for me. Like I was on the brink of snapping?

To make matters worse I’ve been distancing myself from Matt and his brothers because I didn’t want to seem like a buzz kill. Constantly plagued by the “what’s wrong” was making me annoyed. Because I simply couldn’t say what was wrong because I didn’t even know.

Matt had come over to my apartment to spend the night with me. I felt horrible because he was so excited and I just wanted peace and quiet, and to go to sleep.

I was being such a bitch, and I tried not to be but it was becoming very hard. My mind was constantly racing and for what? I had no idea….

“Baby are you okay?” Matt asked me, snapping me out of my trance

“Huh what?” I said looking at him

“Well I’ve been talking to you and you haven’t said a thing” he said furrowing his brows at me

“I’m- I’m sorry” I said shaking my head

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem off” he replied rubbing my arm

“Yes Matt I’m fine” I said sternly kind of brushing his arm off of me

“Oh uhh I’m sorry” he said snatching his hand back

“Listen I’m sorry I’m just not feeling the best today” I said rubbing my forehead

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asked repositioning himself on the couch

“What is there to talk about when I don’t even know what’s going on in my brain” I said frustrated

“I’m not trying to make you upset so we don’t have to talk about” he said looking at me

“I’m sorry, okay, it’s not you I promise. I’m just stressed” I said back to him

“Well baby what are you stressed about?” He asked reading my face for an answer

“Matt I don’t know okay” I said feeling my heart beat quicken

“It’s okay” he said rubbing my knee which caused my anxiety to spike even more

His over analyzing of the situation made my brain go haywire. Anxious thoughts infiltrating my mind.

“I’m just stressed about a lot…..my content, and then my part time job and then also juggling school, and then my mom called me the other day to say that my dog is probably dying, and I have tons of bills and so much stuff to do and such little time” I said my chest rising and falling

“It’s okay to feel that way. You’re young and you’re doing a lot and living on your own isn’t easy” he said tucking my hair behind my ear

“And the warranty is up for my car so I have to call and purchase it again, and my manager has been trying to get a meeting in with me, and I have to fly back home in two weeks”

“and….and…..why does my chest feel like it’s tightening?” I suddenly blurted out the last part

“Y/N, you have to calm down okay. You’re freaking yourself out just breathe” Matt said sitting up

“I can’t breathe and my hearing is going out, my vision seems blurry? Am I going to pass out?? Why can’t I breathe Matt?” I said breathing quickly and erratically

“Listen to me, okay listen to my voice. You’re having a panic attack. You need to focus on your breathing and calm down” he said grabbing my hands and sitting in front of me

“I can’t” I said staring blankly as tears ran down my face

“Yes you can baby” he said

“Why am I crying?” I asked trying to breathe

“You’re having a breakdown, you’re going to be okay just do as I say” he replied back

“Remember when I took you to the cape and we went to that river?” He asked me

“Yes” I said shakily

“Okay now breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth” he said wiping my tears

“Well remember how beautiful it looked, and how vibrant the tree were….we sat down on a rock and you put your feet in the water” he said to me

“Yes I remember” I replied blinking my tears away

“And you tried to count the rocks in the water but you couldn’t” he said

“Yeah there were too many I kept messing up” I said laughing a bit

“And then you just focused on the water running through your feet, and you said that-“ I cut him off

“I said that it felt like silk running along my skin” I replied smiling at him

“Exactly, and you said the wind blowing through your hair made you feel like a main character in a movie” he replied laughing

“Yes I remember” I said laughing

“And do you remember who was there with you?” He asked and to this I furrowed my eyebrows

“Of course Matt, it was you” I said looking at him

“Exactly, I will be with you no matter what. I will always be by your side” he said kissing my knuckles

I had calmed down and my mind had cleared. Finally coming to my senses at what just happened. My body and mind feeling exhausted

“Thank you Matt” I said smiling at him

“Always my love. I’ll always be here for you. You should never let yourself get this way. If you ever feel any amount of stress just tell me I can help you” he said rubbing my cheek with his thumb

“I’m sorry I just don’t want to seem like a burden” I replied looking down

“You’re never a burden. Because when I’m stressed you’re always there to help me and I want you to do the same” he told me

“Okay Matt I will. I promise” I said leaning into his chest after he sat back on the couch

“Listen, you're doing well enough to quit your part time job, and if you ever need any money for anything just let me know okay. I want to help you! I’ll fly with you back home, and I'll go to the dealership to get the warranty package for your car again. Let’s look at your calendar together and schedule the meeting with your manager. And I can help be your study buddy for your courses” he replied rubbing my shoulders

“Thank you Matt I really appreciate it” I said melting into his touch

“This is what I’m here for! To be there for you always” he replied kissing my shoulder

“I love you” I said

“I love you too” he replied back

I looked over my shoulder and he placed a kiss on my lips. A kiss that let me know how loved I was….

The End

Hiiiii I hope you enjoyed this one! I have two stories similar to this on my page, so I tried my best to make it different😭😭 I love yall and I hope you enjoyed this one🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines

[abby-howard]

Hi! I've been following your comics for a long time and just saw that you squatted over 200 lbs! Congratulations!!

I want to ask this with the best of intentions and good faith. Would you still consider yourself fat? I recently started weightlift training myself and there's this annoying fatphobic part of my brain that is always present whenever i start any type of exercise that says "oh, will this be the thing that makes me loss my belly?" And it usually gets drowned out by the learned body positivity telling me not to make that a goal and there's nothing wrong with my fat.

Tysm! And that is a very good question, thank you for reaching out.

I would definitely still consider myself fat-- I work out 3-5 times a week and have for years, and my legs are pretty muscular, which is nice! But I am a chunky person, and it's pretty clear to me at this point that even if I drown in anxiety every time I eat a piece of bread, that's not going to change XD

That acceptance has definitely shifted the way I think about the gym/working out for the better. My goals are no longer focused on maximizing calorie output, setting the gym up as a punishment for having the body I have, which would always send me into anxiety spirals about going. Instead, I wanted to make the gym a regular (non-stressful) part of my life, because I realized maintaining a baseline of fitness-- at whatever size I am-- is important to helping me remain independent and able to do the work I'm passionate about as I age.

I feel like this change in my relationship with the gym has been one of the more important changes in my life-- treating working out as something more like doing the dishes than some kind of major shift into a new, thinner chapter of my life. I figure that I probably have many years ahead of me, and with how much I value my independence, I want to make sure I can stay mobile and pain-free for as long as I can (so I can keep making comics).

That of course doesn't mean I'll never get sick, or that ppl who do get sick just didn't do enough squats or deserve to be stigmatized for it! But osteoporosis has cropped up in my family before, and lifting helps increase bone density, as well as building a good foundation of stabilizing muscles if anything ever goes wrong. It's helped get rid of back pain and improve my posture, and while I'm sure there's a technique component at play, I feel like I have lifting to thank for my wrist strength-- drawing all those tiny lines somehow hasn't destroyed my wrist, and is always easier when I'm consistently deadlifting!

And, of course, there's the confidence that comes with picking up a big heavy thing and putting it back down. I feel proud that I have a body that can do that, which is something I have never felt before, even with everything I know about body positivity. When I first started lifting I also had those little thoughts about how it might impact my waistline-- I think it's something that's so deeply ingrained in fat people to prioritize that it's really hard to shut off. But it eventually did stop, replaced with an honest desire to explore my body's ability to pick up heavy thing off ground. An exploration of my body's strengths instead of a punishment for its perceived faults.

I hope this was helpful and didn't just sound like an ad for powerlifting XD

#fatphobia #fitness #powerlifting #this also is not meant to serve as a guideline for life #the last thing i want is for people to feel like i look down on them for not doing the things i do #and as i said of course i don't think powerlifting will make me immortal #i could blow out a knee just as easy as anyone else #but! it's fun to be able to pick up my spouse and dance around with him on my back

[bluiex]

*Gives you whatever the heck 1 am me wrote* Have some anxious birb calling Scar a sap bc Scar deserves to be a little silly before the big sad.

--

Night appeared quicker than Scar would’ve liked. Grian sighed.

“I’m gonna check the creeper farm, see if there’s more gunpowder.”

Scar watched as Grian almost ran to the UFO in the sky. An ache crawled from shoulder to shoulder, and it was getting harder to place TNT in the holes Grian made. Doing the same movement for a couple of hours tired his shoulders. He groaned internally, realizing Grian would need to help him eat whatever food they had left. The organization in the chests was back into being a mess. Scar couldn’t remember in which chest he saw their last ration of food. 

Grian’s red sweater came closer in the corner of his eye. He rolled his shoulders to ease the ache (he didn’t know why he kept doing that knowing it was useless), and smiled at his partner. Grian had a frown on his face, fingers playing with the hem of the sleeves, wings twitching furiously in the binds. Scar’s smile dropped.

“What’s wrong?” Scar asked, walking closer to bring any sort of comfort.

Grian groaned and ran his hands over his face. “The minecart stopped running, and we barely have enough to cover what I wanted to cover.”

Scar winced, that would spike Grian’s anxiety back.

“That’s so annoying,” Grian grumbled.

Scar tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Well, at least a big chunk of the desert is covered.”

Grian gave him a deadpan look. “What if the Red Army comes from where we didn’t cover the desert? What happens then, Scar?”

Scar’s brain scrambled to find a plan, but seeing Grian spiraling made it harder for him to focus on a solution. “Uh,” was the most intelligent thing that left his mouth. Grian raised his arms in frustration and walked away.

“See? We’re screwed, my trap is going to fail once again, and we won’t get any kills at this point.”

Scar picked his nails. Think, c’mon, think!

“What if we get Scott and Jimmy to help us?”

Grian sent him an unpleasant look. Scar sighed.

“Grian, take some deep breaths for me, would you?”

His partner shook his head, his shoulders trembling. “I try so hard to be useful, to win this war, but I’m just doomed to fail.”

Oh, Scar was having none of it. He determinedly walked to Grian and asked: “Can I touch you?”

Grian shook his head, arms pressed against his side, wings ruffling. Scar’s hand clenched and he crouched in front of Grian.

“G, believe me when I say this, you are amazing with traps. You’re just inexperienced. And nobody has died to traps as far as I know. You’re so creative and your plans helped us get out of sticky situations I put us in.” Scar took a deep breath. “You mean so much more to me than serving me until you lose your first life.”

He made sure to look into Grian’s eyes. Grian’s breath stuttered, eyes wide in disbelief.

“You mean that?”

Scar just wanted to hug him right then and there, but he didn’t have permission, so he softened his face.

“Yeah, I meant every word.”

Grian looked ahead, eyes misty and blank. He gestured Scar to follow him, which Scar did with a skip to his step. Getting up from his crouching position made him fall on his butt and he needed Grian’s help to stand up. He shouldn’t crouch every again. They entered the bunker as the groans of zombies, the rattle of bones and the hiss of creepers filled the silent desert. Scar kept glancing at Grian, not really sure if the paranoia took over him or if he was relaxed. He hummed a melody, not really sure where it came from. 

Grian opened one of the chests in the bunker and tossed Scar a golden carrot. He tried to catch it, but missed. He tried to keep his whine in, but at Grian’s look, he knew gears were turning. To Scar’s relief, Grian simply let out a chuckle, small smile on his face. 

“C’mere,” Grian said in a soft voice.

Scar obliged, glad to see a smile on his partner’s face. He couldn’t help himself as Grian fed him to make small content noises, probably closer to moans. He just felt happy to be with Grian, and he learned to appreciate the help when his body couldn’t do certain things. Grian simply giggled.

“What’s got you so happy?”

Scar shrugged. “Your smile,” he answered honestly. 

Grian let out a surprise sound, almost a choke, disbelief written in his face. He shook his head in laughter and brought a golden carrot closer to Scar’s mouth (he made sure to exaggerate his “nom” noise).

“Sap,” he said fondly.

“You know you love it.” Scar smirked.

Grian rolled his eyes in reply. He leaned closer, a grin forming. Scar’s stomach twisted, nervous but intrigued. Grian gave him a peck on the cheek and took a bite out of the golden carrot. 

After they ate, Grian labeled the lever, making sure Scar knew to pull it during the endgame and not before. Scar suggested putting dirt blocks around it, to make sure it was out of sight, but Grian firmly disagreed. Scar had given him a cheeky smirk before walking around it, barely touching it every time. Grian had pulled his hair, squawking and begging Scar to stay put. Scar had laughed and simply grabbed Grian to crash on their temporary bed with him.

Grian squirmed, cheeks red and breath heavy. Scar kept his smirk.

“You’re insufferable,” Grian let out.

“You know you appreciate my company,” Scar replied with a grin.

Grian shook his head, letting out a laugh, and took off the binds of his wings. They puffed up, presenting themselves, and Grian sighed, red dusting his cheeks before he folded his wings. He repositioned himself more comfortably on Scar’s bare chest. 

Scar brought his left hand to the base of Grian’s neck, making the avian shiver and fluff his feathers. He rubbed circles there, earning a rumble from Grian’s throat, vibrations tingling his whole body. Scar first thought Grian was purring, but he eventually learned avians made a resounding sound without the noise. Just the oscillations within their throats. Scar adored it and was fully taking advantage of it. 

Grian eventually lazily mouthed Scar’s neck, making his partner hum in appreciation. Scar played with his feathers in return, creating a loop back feed on both end. They stayed like that for the whole night, ignoring the threats outside their bunker, living in the present moment, enraptured by each other’s presence.

-- Bloop anon, who's been writing this fic for two months and it just keeps growing, I can't stop it guys. Help /hj

THEY'RE SO IN LOVE THEY'RE SO IN LVOE WAAAAH THIS IS THE CUTEST EVER

#bluie gets an ask poggers #long post #scarian ficlet

[sixtysixproblems]

obligatory newbie post + my ficlist but at least im not from twitter

What's up tumbleweeds i will no longer be a meance exclusive to ao3! This'll probably be a 90% star wars blog because unfortunately I can't choose my special interests aparently, and my brain picked the fandom where everyone dies to be my main thing. sigh.

Ao3 = Kalidescope_View. (i know kaleidoscope is terribly misspelled, shhhhh)

Names + Pronouns - He/Him, minor, could not care less what you call me. Sixes? Kaleidoscope? Kalidescope? That fucking guy over there? Whatever works.

My fic list (all clone wars for now)

"fluorescent mistakes" - an ongoing chat-fic that spiraled out of control and became my main project

Cody: Look, it's the vod who's so basic he's off the PH scale Wolffe: cody you nerd what the fuck does that even mean ~-~-~-~ Cody creates a chatroom for his batch. He really, really shouldn't have. Featuring: some blyla + codywan + vox, a lot of sibling love, even more sibling chaos, and *checks notes* ...plot???

"mistakesverse" series - all of them are canon in fluorescent mistakes, but all function as standalones for now/not needed to read fluorescent.

>"fairness" - ponds & rex h/c oneshot, kamino era but not too heavy angst wise >"get it on flimsi" - coruscant guard chatfic oneshot >"godzillo v crypto bros" - the zillo beast arc but make it a crack chat fic

"i accidentally made a modern au" series - a bunch of stand-alone oneshots set in the same highschool au universe.

>"pastel" - the fetts have an easter egg hunt in the background while wolffe is being a little shit and trying to set up codywan >"i want you (for worse or for better)" - Vox miscomunication except it's only the part where it gets resolved + outside your door in the pouring rain trope, ft peanut butter m&ms >"petals" - codywan flower gifting, the teasing that comes with siblings, wolffe is a little shit again >"(SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WATCH" - a chatfic where cody nearly gets caught in a thunderstorm, set during fett family vacay + ft eggo poptarts

"id kiss you as the lights went out" - Ongoing Vox 5+1 hurtcomfort, but it's more like a 5+2

“Vos,” Fox says, forcing his grip to relax so he doesn’t wrinkle the flimsiwork he’s working on, “Are you aware you’re dripping blood on my carpet?” “Uh,” Vos looks down at the few drops of crimson now staining the ugly beige-colored floor, and quickly puts a hand over his side, “...I’d say sorry, but I mean, you must have gotten wine on it at some point, so it'll just...Blend in?”

"warmth" - self-indulgent vox hurt/comfort with a bad title.

Quinlan Vos had been hovering around Fox like a particularly annoying fly for the past two months now, for no particular reason. Well, none Fox could discern at least. Oh, not that Vos wasn’t telling him why. Vos had plenty of "reasons", he’d explain them with a smirk that Fox supposed he’d find charming-- if he had never put up with the Jedi’s shenanigans. And if he didn’t know that Vos and his excuses were full of shit.

"stitched" - no plot only vibes drunk sibling nonse (fox, cody, wolffe)

"Force, you are old," Wolffe drawled, and Fox tried to project his glare as best he could through his helmet. Cody snorted from somewhere behind them, but Fox was too drunk to tell where-- which sent off a prickle of anxiety.. "I see you do not want a present from me for life day," He grumbled, trying to banish his stress. He’d have none of his usual paranoia tonight. Wolffe put his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine. It's impressive. I wouldn't have the patience" Wolffe amended, and picked up Fox's knitting to study it with, annoyingly, what looked like at least some genuine interest.

have a nice day folks!

#quinfox #codywan #my fic #clone wars #chat fic #my stuff

[kitkatt0430]

So today I had an upsetting encounter with a reviewer on ff.net who thought it was appropriate to use their review to complain about/harass/vaguely threaten a different reviewer who’d commented on the same story, learned about ff.net’s user blocking feature that I was previously only vaguely aware of, and reported said harassing/vaguely threatening review for abuse.  We’ll see if anything comes of that.

I really wish I could delete non anonymous reviews on ff.net because I am so uncomfortable leaving that review in place.  I’ve updated my profile to note that reviews being used to start/continue feuds with other reviewers is disrespectful and I’d prefer it not happen on my stories, but there’s not really anything further I can do about it beyond the blocking and reporting.

The whole thing is really upsetting and I just really hope I handled this the right way.  *sigh*

Like... there’s a reason why I prefer how AO3 handles comments - author replies being public being pretty high up there.  Because ff.net replies are private messages, I refuse to reply to comments.  It makes me intensely uncomfortable not having those replies be public, especially because of scenarios like this.  If I did reply, anything I said could, and probably would, get taken out of context.  

(Though I originally turned off PMs due to all the spam on ff.net, the possibility of private messages being used as another avenue for harassment is definitely high on my list of reasons why PMs will never be turned back on.)

#the worst thing is that the person who did it probably thought I'd appreciate how complementary they were at the start of the review #like... the first reviewer was polite concise and complimentary #and I have no idea if reviewer two's complaints had merit #(nor do I care at this point) #but there's a time and place for that sort of thing and it's not when you're reviewing/commenting on someone else's fanfic #the tone by the end of the review was pretty hostile and directed at the other reviewer #which raised the uncomfortable question of whether or not they thought I was a sock puppet for that user #and they signed the review as 'admin' like they were trying to make it appear they had admin authority in ff.net #basically it was entirely unsettling and upsetting #and my brain is anxiety spiraling a little over this which is really annoying #as I'd like to sleep now

[buckys-black-dress]

see through

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

a/n: i dont have much to say other than that it's 1 am and i needed to get this out of my system. chapter 4 of play the game is underway, i promise. also, there will be a pov switch in this fic!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. = POV change!

wc: 4.1k words

[ neighbor!bucky barnes x fem!reader ]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

-

Every Friday night, without fail, you saw the light filter into your apartment.

Notice how you said night?

Yeah, it was almost two in the morning, by the way.

And why was there light coming through the chiffon curtains you had hanging on the rod above your window?

(Great choice on your part, by the way.)

Well, because of your neighbor.

You've seen him a few times, actually. Usually on the street outside your buildings, or just out and about. Never spoke to him, though. He was quiet, kept to himself. Didn't seem very friendly or willing to exchange a greeting if he ever saw you.

But you never took it personally. Maybe he was having a bad day. Every time you saw him.

But that's besides the point. The point right now is that you can see the lights blaring in your room. From the apartment across from yours.

Should it even be possible for light to travel that far? I mean, we don't even live in the same building. You think to yourself as you watch the colors dance in the dark.

You debate getting up and yelling out your window to tell him to shut that shit off or to invest in some blackout curtains. You were tired of sacrificing your sleep every week.

But then you decided against it, because you quite frankly could not be bothered to get up from the warmth of your bed. You'd tough it out for the night, but the next time you saw him, you'd have a few words for him.

-

The next morning, it was almost ten when you woke up. You didn't have your shift at the coffee shop you worked at until three, so you took your time in making your way out of bed.

You noticed the curtains of your neighbor's apartment were still open, but you could see his figure moving across the room. He was clearly on the phone with someone, and he didn't look too happy. You wondered what could have him so angry at such an early time of the morning. He seemed like a person who could use someone to talk to, someone who he could vent to.

But before you let your thoughts get ahead of you, you turn away from the window, heading back into your kitchen to eat breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead of you.

-

"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" You ask as brightly as you can muster at the moment. You were halfway through your shift, another three hours until close.

"Uh, just a large black coffee." The gruff voice says, and it takes you a second until you look up and look closely.

It was him.

"O-okay, that'll be $3.27." You say, and he hands you a five dollar note before grumbling,

"Keep the change."

"Thanks, and your name?"

He gives you a look that's asking, 'what the fuck do you need my name for?'

"For the order." You try and salvage your dignity, because it feels like the stare shrunk you to a speck of dust.

"James."

That's all he all but growls before turning back to find a seat.

As your coworker takes over the cash register, you grab the biggest cup and fill it with his desired coffee.

You try to not think about it too much, but the anxiety you feel rising up inside you and just calling his name to give him his coffee feels absolutely ridiculous.

"Are you just gonna stare at the cup or give it to the customer?" The voice of your coworker, Jenna, rings in your ears and you look up at her, snapping out of the trance you were in.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it today, I guess."

"Everything alright?" She asks, and you nod.

"I'm fine, it's just... that's my neighbor." You nod your head towards where James is sat, in the corner by the window as he watches the raindrops run down the expanse of the glass.

"The one who doesn't let you sleep?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he'd take it too kindly if I tell him about that. He seems to have a lot on his own plate anyways," You explain, and she just nods.

"Well, that sucks, but you still need ta' give the guy his coffee." Jenna smiles and walks back to what she was doing before.

You gently slide out from your spot behind the counter and walk to his table.

"Here's your coffee, James. Enjoy, and- uh, let me know if you'd like anything else." You tell him while placing the steaming cup in front of him.

He murmurs a thank you that you barely catch, but you don't quite have the time to sit and wait for more of a reaction.

For the next several hours, James sits right where he was. He doesn't do anything in particular, either. He just watches outside, as the rain continues to pelt down on New York City, and as people come and go from where they were.

Eventually, about an hour left until close, you offer another cup of coffee.

"Do you want a refill? On the house." You ask gently, waiting to see if you'll get brushed off again.

"Uh... are you allowed to do stuff like that?" He asks, and you're a bit taken aback at the sudden concern.

"I don't think you should worry yourself too much, James. Free coffee's free coffee." You smile lightly, and grab the cup before filling it up without his confirmation. You could tell he wanted to say yes but didn't want to seem rude.

"You didn't have to..." He grumbles, and you simply shake your head.

"I know, but you've been here a while, and what kind of employee would I be if I let a customer sit here without any sustenance?" Your lips ply into a tiny smirk, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

He seems so guarded, defensive. Like any moment, he's ready to run if need be, you inspect to yourself.

"You'd just be a regular employee, Y/N." He says, but the way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine; and you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.

You unconsciously look down at your name tag, pinned to your black apron that's branded with the café's logo.

"Well, I felt like being nice. I hope you can deal." Your voice comes out short, but he knows you mean no harm.

As you walk back to the counter, you see a small smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't allow it to manifest on his face. You take that as a small victory for your last hour of work.

(bucky's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The girl who works at this café is annoying.

But she's got a nice smile. And she's nice to me, Bucky thinks to himself.

He sips on the new coffee you'd just poured for him, without his consent, he thinks bitterly.

But it was a nice gesture.

Why can't you just take a nice gesture?

Because your brain's been scrambled eggs for 70 years. You don't know what to think about anything these days.

He watches you fiddle with the espresso maker, cleaning it with a rag, which you then dip into a bucket.

You look extremely familiar to him, but he can't exactly pin where he's seen you before.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen you, but for a moment, he comes up with nothing.

Ever since he's been living back in the real world, he hasn't been outside too much.

He goes on the occasional walk, or goes to the tower to see Steve and Sam.

But other than that, he spends a lot of time in his Brooklyn apartment. He watches movies that Steve suggests, or he invites Steve and Sam over to have beer and watch TV with him.

He hates how lonely it gets, though.

Bucky wishes that he had someone.

Someone who could understand.

And don't get him wrong, he loves Sam and Steve. They fill in the gaps in his days, and they make them better.

Sometimes, thinking about having something to do that day is what makes it. He likes having something to do, something to plan for for when his friends come over.

But it feels like a teeny, tiny part of his life is missing. A person shaped-hole in his heart.

But Bucky doesn't spend too long thinking about it, or it'll send him into a spiral about failure and how he needs to 'push himself to get out there more.'

Or that's what his therapist says.

"Hey, we're about to close, and we usually throw the pastries out at the end of the day. Do you wanna take these home, by any chance?" Your voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of the impending slippery slope of his lack of love life.

He hesitates to answer for a second, looking at the brown paper bag pinched between your fingers.

Bucky can tell you were nervous when you spoke to him. He knew he made you uneasy, and it killed him inside.

He hated that. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with someone. But everyone seems to know who he is.

Who he was.

"Uh, what is it?" He croaks, unsure of what to say at your gesture.

"It's a few cookies and a chocolate croissant."

"Sure, I'll take 'em." Bucky simply answers, watching as you hand the bag over with a soft smile and watches you walk back.

You sweep up the floor and put up all the chairs, except for the one Bucky's sitting on. You leave his table alone, and bid farewell to your coworker who was scheduled to close with you.

Bucky doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he gets up after he sees you walk out the door, and follows you home.

Damn, if you like a girl, you usually ask for her number or somethin'. Not follow her home to make sure she's safe, you idiot. Bucky's inner voice speaks and sometimes, he wishes it would just shut up because he knows he has no game nowadays, but this is all he knows to do.

He realizes the way you're walking is familiar, and not at all of the way he was supposed to be going. That made him feel a little better, less like a creep. He's about half a block behind you, and when you turn onto the same street he lives on, he's really confused.

Did you know he was behind you? Are you trying to play a trick on him?

But before Bucky can speak up or say something, you walk right past his building, and into the one right next to it.

All of a sudden, images of you right on the street in front of your buildings flash through his head. He's seen you because you're his neighbor. Bucky's seen you right there, getting ready to start your run through the neighborhood, or probably on your way to work, now that he's seen where you work.

But he feels like there's somewhere else he's seen you; somewhere familiar.

He shakes his head, wondering why he's so caught up in you. He thought you were beautiful, but he feels a pull to you that he's never felt with anyone else before.

Bucky's hands move to unlock his door, sliding the key in and twisting the lock open.

He enters, staring at his dark apartment. It's moments like this, when he spends a long day alone, that he wishes there was someone.

Someone to come home to, to hug, to kiss, to share dinner with.

Some to fall asleep with at night. Someone to keep the terrors of the dark away.

But there was no one.

And then his mind thought back to you. Your hair, your face, your warm hands that touched his while you passed him the brown paper bag of treats.

Bucky wishes he was man enough to ask you out. Not even that, just to talk to you. Have a normal conversation, to get to know you.

But that wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon, he thinks.

For now, he focuses on taking things one at a time. And right now, all he wanted was a nice, warm shower and to get at least three hours of sleep tonight.

He's in his room, forgoing the lights for now, before he looks out his window.

For a moment, he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.

There's absolutely no way that you are standing right there, right outside his window.

Well, in your own apartment, of course.

And there's absolutely no way in hell that Bucky is watching you undress right now.

As soon as you pull off your top, Bucky turns around before he could get more than a peek of your black lace bra, and he feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.

He can't tell if it's shame, guilt, or arousal.

(y/n's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn't stop thinking about James all day.

After yesterday, you wondered why you couldn't shake this feeling about him.

He'd made it quite clear that he's not a people person. Or maybe he just wasn't a you person.

But again, you tried to not take things too personally these days.

Sometimes, you wondered, though, as you looked through your bedroom window to his some nights.

You imagined what it would be like, watching one of those movies with him at night. Making dinner with him. Having coffee in the mornings before work, wondering what he did for a living.

You chastise yourself for your thoughts, thinking that you were crazy for these ideas you were coming up with out of nowhere.

As you pull off your clothes to get ready for bed, you feel the same emptiness fill your heart when your head hits the pillow, and another day has gone by where you're all alone.

-

The next day, your shift was at ten in the morning so you were up early.

You took your time in rolling out of bed. The warmth of your duvet was holding you down, and you couldn't help take a peek out your window.

You see that the room facing yours is finally housing a body in the bed. In all the time you'd been living across him, you've only seen him on the floor.

You feel a warm flutter at that. Whatever reason led him to actually sleep in the bed last night was, you hope you played a role in it.

-

You make your way to the café, and although walking in the rain wasn't ideal, you made it, somehow.

You clock in and head to the register, ready to take the millions of orders that come in through the day.

"Hi- oh! Welcome back. What can I get you?" Your tone of voice made it clear you were surprised, but was trying to not let it show.

"Uhm, just the same as yesterday, and... Can I get a chocolate croissant?" Bucky's gruff voice tells you.

You ring him up, wondering if you should say something about him being your neighbor. Although, he didn't seem too keen on looking you in the eye right now, and you wonder if you did something to make him uncomfortable yet again.

He seems to have this issue quite often.

Little do you know, this time, it isn't because of you or anything you did.

Well, nothing you did on purpose.

Nothing you were aware of at the time.

Anyways, you tell James to go take a seat and that you'd be right out with his order.

"Here you go, James," you place the plate and mug on the table, and this time, when you hear him say something, you turn around with furrowed brows.

"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said." You apologize, waiting for him to repeat himself.

"I- nevermind, it was stupid anyways. You probably have to get back to work." He mumbles while looking back down at his pastry.

"James, whatever it is, you can tell me." You offer with a kind smile. "I can come sit with you during my break, if you don't mind?" A hopeful smile crosses your face.

"Uh, I- yes, yeah, that would be nice." He struggles for a moment, but finally nods his head in confirmation along with his words.

"Alright, James. I get off in an hour for my break." You simply tell him with a soft grin, and you can practically feel his eyes burning into you as you walk away.

The blush creeping up your cheeks also stays there until the remainder of your shift.

-

As you plop in the chair across from James, you inspect him for a moment.

He was attractive, you'll admit.

Okay, he was more than attractive.

"So, James, where are you from?" You ask, your own cup of coffee in front of you on the table.

"Well, I'm Brooklyn born 'nd raised. Never was a time I didn't live here. You?" His lip twitches, looking out the window fondly.

"That's nice. I moved here when I was nine, so I guess I've been here a while. But no matter where I go, there's nowhere like home." You smile.

"There really isn't, huh? This place is irreplaceable." He gives you a crack of another smile, and you find yourself yearning for more from him. Just a tooth, something.

"Well, do you live around here?" You ask, deciding to play coy. You wanted to see what he'd say.

"Uh, yeah, actually. Over on DeKalb and Clinton." He clears his throat, the hint of a smile on his face melting right off.

"Huh, that's so funny. I live on those streets too." You grin, waiting to see his reaction.

"O-Oh really?" James doesn't really know what to say without giving away that he knows where you fucking live.

"Yeah, isn't that funny? Which building?" You're pressing, and you know he knows, but you're having your fun right now.

"T-the uhm... I live in the Washington." He's now making zero eye contact with you, and you're close to breaking.

"What a coincidence! I live in the Oakley!" You're in a fit of giggles when his face drops, you just can't help it anymore.

"James, can I tell you something?" You ask in a coquettish manner.

"Yeah, I suppose you'll tell me even if I say no." He gives a tight smile as a joke.

"I don't wanna sound like a creep, but I knew you lived in the Washington."

"Oh," James releases a breath of relief, "thank God. I knew you lived in the Oakley, but I didn't wanna sound like a stalker either." He says.

You laugh, sliding a hand on top of his resting on the table.

"Y'know, you do this really annoying thing where you leave your movies running on full brightness on your TV, and I can see it through my windows at night." You laugh at the incredulity of the situation.

"Oh... I never even thought of that. I'm sorry, Y/N." He looks genuinely remorseful, and now you feel bad for any bad thought you've had about the man that lives across from you.

"It's alright. No big deal." Your smile does a good job of convincing Bucky that you truly weren't bothered by his actions, but he still felt bad.

"Y'know, maybe I could make it up to you?" He asks, and you feel a blush moving up your chest. "Like, maybe over dinner?" His voice is timid, you can tell by the way he tilts his head down while speaking.

"James," you slide your hand into his this time, your smaller one resting in his large metal one. "I'd love to go out with you sometime."

Before he could react, you stood up from the chair.

"My break's over, but I get off at 3." You lean down and pull a pen from your apron, scribbling your number onto a napkin. "Here."

You walk away before he could say anything, but there's something about him this time that you notice.

He's blushing, too. And he's smiling. A bright, white, blinding smile.

You think of that smile throughout your whole shift, until you see he's still waiting for you when it's time to go.

"So, do you like Chinese or Italian better?" He asks with a crooked smile.

-

bonus scene:

six months later

You and Bucky are laid across your bed, the TV blaring a movie that neither of you are paying attention to. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg thrown over both of his, and his hand running through your hair.

"You wanna know somethin' doll?" Bucky asks, and you feel his chest rumble under your head.

"Yeah, everything okay?" You ask while leaning up on your elbow to get a good look at him, trying to gauge his mood.

"Everything's okay, just remembered something." He laughs, his hand moving to hold your jaw in it. You shivered at the touch, but smiled fondly at the action.

"When I first saw you at the coffee shop, that first day when you gave the free coffee and pastries... I followed you home."

Your brows furrow and it's clear that you were confused as to why.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and then it turned out that you lived right next to me. So I went up to my apartment and wondered what I'd done right in a past life to have you live right next to me, and then I saw you lived right across from me." His face was tipped upwards, like he was replaying that night in his head.

"You followed me home just to make sure I was safe?" You asked in disbelief that he did something so nice for you, when at the time you thought he hated you.

"Of course, sweetheart. It was dark out and there 're some real jerks out there, y'know." One corner of his mouth lifts up in a soft smirk. "Didn't want anything to happen to ya."

You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating his gesture.

"I really thought you didn't like me back then, so this is a nice little secret you've been hiding from me." You giggle when he pulls you back in for a real kiss.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could'a hated you if I tried, baby. You're too sweet. And at the time, I was still getting used to being out in the open without being a national security threat." You both laugh lightly, dropping your head down.

A moment passes where you bask in his words, letting them soak in. And then a thought hits you, and you can't help but become more curious. Now you need to know the answer.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, hon." Now Bucky's brows are pulled together, and you reach up and smooth out the wrinkle with your thumb.

"Did you ever... see me doing anything in here? Like, I usually keep the curtains open, and even if they're closed, they're pretty see-through..." You trail off, giving him time to craft his response.

You have a feeling you know the answer, considering how he turns red like a tomato in an instant as words leave your lips.

"I... there was this one time, but I swear, I wasn't trying to peep on you or anything, it was the same day I followed you and I just so happened to look into your window, and you were getting undressed, but I swear, I turned away as soon as I saw what you were doing, baby-" He was rambling, trying to save himself from sounding like a complete creep after all he's just told you.

"Did you like it?" You ask, innocently, but he knew what you were trying to do.

"I-I- You were getting undressed, sweetheart, of course I liked it... are you kidding me?" Bucky's grasping for the words, trying to make you understand.

"Well... we could always recreate it, but maybe in the same apartment this time?" You cock your head to the side, your doe eyes stirring a feeling in his abdomen.

"I think that's an excellent idea, honey." Bucky's hands grasp your waist as you slide on top of his lap. "After all, I am a hands on learner."

-

fin. i hope you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes reader insert #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes au

[ironmanstan]

Now that I've had my like monthly reminder John Green exists I guess I will ramble about the one John Green book I actually like, and not bc of the romance or anything. (tbh I do not like a lot of romance books looking back bc I understand they play up the whole "romance is what makes me live, it's what made me become a person" thing for the Drama of it all but reading it now, it's weirdly alienating. Which's funny bc reading it before I knew I was aro I always had this weird sense of "Pffft I'm not stupid I know it doesn't feel like THAT I'm not some little kid you gotta lie to about this" which. lol.)

But anyway his one book, Turtles All The Way Down (named after this expression, which in the story is used as a metaphor for OCD, a constant spiral downward into something you cannot prove, only loosely believe in and convince yourself of its existence) is the only book of his I've read, finished, and enjoyed, because of his representations of OCD.

I don't see a lot of people in stories or books or anything really with actual OCD rep outside of being stereotypes or being played as an annoying, obsessive person who everyone just wants to avoid for being crazy, and this was the first time I'd ever read anyone (let alone a main character) having it. And like. Even now in the present day I don't remember shit about the doomed-to-fail romance in this romance book but I'll always remember the way he described OCD through the main character's words, and how even when my OCD doesn't manifest in the same way hers does, it still hit different all the same.

"It’s not over. You lie there, not even thinking really, except to try to consider how to describe the hurt, as if finding the language for it might bring it up out of you. If you can make something real, if you can see it and smell it and touch it, then you can kill it.

You think, it’s like a brain fire. Like a rodent gnawing at you from the inside. A knife in your gut. A spiral. Whirlpool. Black hole."

It's so, crunchy. Throughout the book the main character Aza is struggling with OCD and hers specifically manifests around her health and bacteria infecting her (If a topic OCD obsesses around is common enough usually there is an unofficial term for it created, in this case it would be contamination OCD.) And I feel this is a common type of OCD represented, but you'll hardly see it written like this, with care, with seriousness, where it isn't just someone being a "clean freak" or something, it's somebody deep down knowing their paranoia is exactly that, paranoia, but even on medication, even when that recognition is made, all logic can go out the window and the handle on their thoughts can be lost as they spiral down the line of illogical obsession that OCD (an executive functioning disorder that has the symptom of anxiety, not an anxiety disorder) can cause.

Back to health-related OCD being the most common type to represent for a moment, I feel it is because it's the most palatable to someone without OCD. A lot of OCD subtypes are ones that directly question the sufferer's morals, and make them see themself as a reprehensible person. You can have OCD about all your relationships failing (usually causing a fear you don't care enough about people, or that people don't actually care about you), or about hurting people, or about the fear of becoming things that disgust you, like a pedophile or murderer. All of which, are EXTREMELY common things for OCD to center around, but are hardly talked about, which I think can be challked up to how taboo those things are, but this leads to people who do have those paranoias being demonized, and seen AS the fear, rather than simply someone who is a victim to those fears of becoming those things so much they get intrusive thoughts about them becoming their reality.

And I think John Green writes that distinction, between just being the fear (the stereotypical crazy germophobe whose whole personality is just Being That) and just being a person, who's trapped, obsessed with the fear (Aza having extensive knowledge on diseases and viruses and the specific things she's paranoid of being infected with. The way she knows the way she acts is irrational and despite that she cannot help it. And when it shows through, when she cannot control it in front of others, she's filled with guilt. There is a scene where she has to go to the hospital, and in the hospital she ends up drinking hand-sanitizer, which leads the staff to think she's an alcoholic looking for her fix, before her therapist shows up. And then Aza admits to how she felt the obsession of being infected creeping back up on her, and did that to ease the anxiety from it, to act on her compulsions and make herself feel clean from the thoughts, even though logically, she knows it's dangerous and a stupid thing to do, when OCD is present, the dangerous thing can feel like an act of self preservation.)

I think the closing chapter is something I've always really liked. It's said so simply but the casual acknowledgement that she will always be like this, she will relapse, she will spiral, and yet she will keep going despite that and she will be okay. It's nice. Throughout the whole book she feels so stressed and out of her element and constantly stuck IN the spiral, and worrying that she has no future and no worth and no place in the world because of the way she spirals, to the point she goes off her meds and tries to ignore her symptoms, this one moment of her future self commenting on the past feels so grounded and accepting of the reality she has to face and it's crunchy I just like it.

"But it turns out not to be terrible, because I know the secret that the me lying beneath that sky could not imagine: I know that girl would go on, that she would grow up, have children and love them, that despite loving them she would get too sick to care for them, be hospitalized, get better, and then get sick again. I know a shrink would say, Write it down, how you got here."

#dont read this post im being cringe on main anyways #ocd #rohan rambles #long post #books #john green #turtles all the way down

[twst-bs]

TWST Dorm Leaders and an Anxious MC

This is the first piece of written specifically for this blog!

-----

Riddle: Had they broken a rule?

Even if Riddle had improved by leaps and bounds in the anger management department, he still held his rules in high regard. And the way his brows furrowed when he looked at them from across the table, was he angry about something? He couldn’t exactly punish them - they had no magic to lock away, and they were a dorm leader in their own right, so he didn’t have any right to discipline them, but what if they had done something on a personal level? Offended him in some way? They had barely mastered social cues in their own world, what if they messed up in Twisted Wonderland? What if -

...Riddle had said something, and was clearly waiting for a reply. In their internal panic, they had missed whatever it was.

“I-I’m sorry, Riddle, I was kind of zoning out. What did you say?” Were there rules against zoning out? Probably, that seemed like something that would annoy him.

“I asked if you were alright.”

“...Huh?”

Riddle set down his tea cup - it was a pretty, delicate little thing, gilded gold along the edges and handle, with roses painted beneath the rim. His mother would be mortified if she knew he was drinking strawberry milk tea with an ungodly amount of sugar out of it, Riddle had once said with a small, almost sheepish smile. That same mouth was now downturned as he regarded them with concern in his wide gray eyes.

“You seemed to be under a lot of stress lately,” he spoke slowly, like they were a frightened animal. Maybe they were. “Is everything alright? Are you sleeping well?”

They weren’t, but that was more of a side effect of their stress than the cause of it. They idly tapped their fingers against their own tea cup, a matching one to Riddle’s. They had been drinking lavender tea in an effort to calm their nerves, but it clearly hadn’t worked.

“I’m fine, promise,” they grinned, hoping it looked convincing.

By the way Riddle’s face scrunched up, it did not.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I know I’m not the best at handling emotions, but if I can help in any way…” Riddle trailed off, looking embarrassed.

They felt their stomach twist in horror. These little tea parties were the highlight of their week, a little moment of reprieve for the both of them to just relax and enjoy each other’s company. And they had gone and ruined it because they couldn’t figure out how to human properly.

“I’m sorry!” they burst out. “I’ve been so anxious lately, and I haven’t been able to sleep, and I’m worried about my grades slipping because I don’t know the first thing about magic and -”

They didn’t even notice they were starting to spiral until Riddle had reached across the table and grasped onto their hand. Their chest was heaving with barely-contained sobs, and they weren’t sure if the trembling they felt in their hands was theirs or Riddle’s.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured. “Deep breaths, now.”

He was parroting what Trey would tell him to help him calm down, they knew, but it was good advice. They knew that he had talked Riddle down from many an anxiety attack before, but the fact that Riddle, someone who suffered from severe mental health problems, was the one calming them down made something sour begin climbing up their throat.

“I-I’m making everything worse…” they mumbled, squeezing Riddle’s hand tighter. “I should be able to handle this without freaking out, but…”

Riddle reached out and brushed away a tear they didn’t know had fallen away with the back of his knuckle. “I know better than anyone how it feels to be under pressure.” he sighed. “Please, don’t think you have to deal with all of this stress on your own.”

Leona: “Will you sit still for five minutes?”

They hadn’t thought they had been making that much noise. Certainly not enough to wake Leona up from his nap, that was damn near impossible. So either the floorboards in Ramshackle dorm were worse than they thought, or Leona hadn’t actually been sleeping.

“Sorry,” they mumbled, staring down at the worksheet in front of them. They had been trying to finish this homework for hours, and the incantations were starting to blur together. What language were these even written in? Were they in the demonic section or nature section?

Leona sat up from where he had unceremoniously plopped himself on their bed. “You’re fidgeting like a rabbit, herbivore.”

“So you weren’t sleeping after all.”

“Hard to sleep when I can practically smell your anxiety.”

“Then go sleep somewhere else.”

Leona clicked his tongue, sounding annoyed, but they both knew he secretly enjoyed it when they got snappy with him. Not a whole lot of people had the guts to give him sass, and he liked having someone to verbally spar with. “And miss watching you squirm?”

“I’m not squirming.” they bit back.

“So that chair squeaking was just the ghosts, then?”

“Maybe.”

They could practically hear Leona roll his eyes, but they still didn’t take their eyes off of their textbook.

“Staring a hole into the page isn’t going to solve the equation.”

“How do you know?”

“Shut up and get over here.”

That made them look up. Leona had stood up, motioning them over with a tilt of his head. “You’re taking a break.”

“But -”

“You’re. Taking. A. Break.” he punctuated his words by grabbing the back of their desk chair and pulling. Just enough to jolt them, they could tell by the way the chair stopped that he was purposely holding it steady. Even so, they couldn’t help the small noise of surprise they made.

“Leona, I have to finish this!”

“You’ve been staring at the same page since I got here, you aren’t finishing anything.”

Subconsciously, they knew that taking a break would probably be good for them. But the part of their brain that was panicking about failing was telling them that if they took a break they were essentially giving up. And giving up wasn’t an option.

“Herbivore.”

The soft growl in Leona’s voice snapped them out of their thoughts. Leona had gone back over to the bed, flopped onto his back with his arms splayed out. To anyone else, it looked like he was just lazing about, but they had been with him long enough to realize that this particular position was an invitation.

It was then that they realized just how sore their neck and back were from being hunched over their desk. And how badly their eyes were burning from staring at the miniscule writing in their textbook. And how their legs and arms were one wrong move away from cramping because of how tense they had been.

...Okay, yeah, maybe a cuddle break was in order.

Leona grunted when they plopped on top of him, face buried in the crook on his neck. “Shit, herbivore, that hurt.”

“Suck it up.” they muttered, internally melting a little when he brought his arms up to wrap around them.

“Tch,” again, he sounded annoyed, but they knew better. “Learn to take better care of yourself.”

Azul: There was so much stuff to do.

Even if Crowley made sure they didn’t have to worry about money, a lot of the responsibilities of dorm upkeep still fell on them. They had to buy groceries, clean the whole dorm, make sure the place didn’t fall apart, follow Grimm around and make sure he hadn’t scorched any curtains...and that was all after they had done the assigned homework.

All things considered, they did a pretty good job, but sometimes they laid awake at night thinking of all of the things that needed to be done. Which left them in a less-than-ideal state for class the next day.

Gr-gr-grmmble…

They winced, hoping no one heard that. They had slept soundly through their alarm this morning, to the point where Grimm had to slap them awake, and therefore didn’t have time to snag breakfast. And it was really hard to focus on Trein’s droning lecture when they were both hungry and sleep-deprived.

Ace looked at them out of the corner of his eye with a raised eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t say anything. It might have been because the last time they got busted talking in class the spiel from Trein had been worse than if Riddle had just collared them, but still.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Trein dismissed the class. They still had Alchemy before they could go grab lunch, and even though mixing potentially explosive potions in their current state seemed like a terrible idea, Grimm skipped class enough. They didn’t need to add to his track record. So, feeling distinctly zombie-like, they made their way through the halls towards the alchemy lab.

Maybe they could dash by Sam’s shop really quick and grab a protein bar just to hold them over? No, Trein had yammered on until the last possible second, and they only had a few minutes before their next class started. There was no time. Maybe -

“Oof!”

“Whoa!”

Well, that’s what they got for not watching where they were going. Their books clattered to the ground as they ran headfirst into someone.

“Ah, damn, I’m sorry,” they bent down to pick up their books. Now they really were going to be late.

“Are you alright?” they looked up to see Azul stooping down to help them. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I’m fine!” they grinned sheepishly. “Just wasn’t paying attention, is all.”

Azul frowned, picking up their Alchemy textbook before straightening. “You look exhausted. Another rough night?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Pale blue eyes widened and Azul flushed red. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!” he stammered, “I just - I merely - “ he cleared his throat, quickly recomposing his gentlemanly demeanor. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

“Relax, Azul,” they laughed, standing up from their crouched position. “I was just teasing you.”

“Must you do that in public?”

“Are you saying you like it when I tease you in private?”

“That is not what I said.”

They laughed again, reaching for their books, but Azul held them out of reach. “Hey, come on,” they pouted. “I’m going to be late.”

“Seriously, are you alright? You look kind of pale.”

They sighed. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, and then overslept this morning, so I haven’t eaten anything. Happy now?”

“Not really, no.” Azul frowned. “Come on, I’ll treat you to lunch at the lounge.”

“But I have class.”

Azul kept walking, and they had no choice but to follow considering he still had most of their books. “I’m sure Crewel will understand if you miss one class. You have an otherwise perfect track record.”

“How do you know that?” they asked. “We don’t have any classes together.”

“I have my ways.” Azul smiled cryptically at them.

“Which one of them was it?”

“Jade.”

“Knew it.”

Kalim: “...and then, there was this one time, the baby elephants broke out of their cages…”

They wanted to pay attention, they really did. Kalim was a great story-teller, even if he was a bit all over the place. And stories from a magical noble family, no matter how mundane to Kalim, were always fascinating. They could sit here and listen for hours.

Well, usually, anyway.

Nothing in particular was wrong, really. They had just woken up feeling off. It could have been anything. They could have had a weird dream, they could have forgotten something minor, the planets could be slightly unaligned, it didn’t matter. It was just an off day, and they were feeling it.

“...hello? You still in there?”

They nearly hit the ceiling when Kalim snapped his fingers in front of their face. Where they had been sitting there being anxious about trying to figure out what was making them anxious, Kalim had crawled across the floor where the two of them had been having lunch in his room. He had wanted to have a picnic on the flying carpet, but Jamil had put his foot down. Literally, he had stood on the carpet so Kalim couldn’t ride it.

“Sorry!” they yelped, almost knocking their tea over as they were forcibly brought back into the present.

“You looked kinda worried there,” Kalim frowned, quite an unusual look for him. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” they looked down at their lap and bit their lip to stifle a gasp. While they had been worrying, they had subconsciously been picking at the skin around their fingernails. There were a couple tiny drops of blood beading up around their nail beds. Maybe Kalim wouldn’t notice?

“Hey, you’re bleeding!”

Damn.

Kalim’s expressive, ruby-red eyes went wide and he lunged forward to grab their hands. “When did that happen? How did that happen? Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

“Kalim, I’m fine, there's barely any blood.” they sighed, gently prying their hands away from him. “I do that a lot.”

“You just randomly start bleeding?!”

“No, Kalim,” they laughed softly, shaking their head. “I pick at my nails when I get anxious.”

Kalim pouted, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “You’re anxious? Why are you anxious? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, it isn’t you, I promise!” they idly swiped at their nails. The places they had picked open had already closed. “It’s just...it’s a thing. I just have anxiety in general, is all.”

Frowning, Kalim sat back down in his original spot. “Isn’t there a way to fix that?”

“There’s a few ways, but none of them are quick.” they shrugged. “I was doing better, but suddenly coming here brought back a lot of my old habits.”

“Hm…” Kalim stared at them intently before the apparent storm passed and he brightened up again. “Well, we’ll just have to get you new habits to replace the old ones!”

“I...don’t think that’s quite how that works…”

“Here!” Kalim reached down and took a bangle off of his wrist. It was gold, with an elephant charm hanging off of it. With a big, eye-closing grin, he handed it to them. “When I was little, I used to get scolded for squirming a lot, so my mom told me to play with a small toy instead of running around. I know it’s a bit different, but maybe, instead of picking at your fingers, you can play with the charm instead? Would that help?”

For a moment, they were quiet, just staring at the shiny gold bracelet in their hand. Then, a small smile split across their face. “Yeah, I think it’ll help.”

Vil: “You haven’t been sleeping.”

“Hello to you too, Vil.” they sighed, flopping unceremoniously onto the stone bench beside him. Usually they at least tried to hold themselves to a higher standard when they were with the Vil Schoenheit, but they just didn’t have the energy. “How could you tell I haven’t been sleeping?”

“Unless the undead look is a new fashion trend, but bags under your eyes are very telling.” he reached over to tuck their hair behind their ear, both in an affectionate gesture and to get it out of the way so he could assess them better. “You’re also breaking out. Are you stressed?”

“Isn’t everybody stressed?”

“Don’t get existential, just answer the question.”

They huffed, letting their head rest on the hand that was still at their ear. “Yes, okay, I’m stressed, happy?”

Students were watching the two of them on their way through the gardens, but Vil paid them no mind. He had plenty of practice at ignoring the masses. “We’ve discussed this, haven’t we? Mental health is just as important as physical health.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” they closed their eyes, unable to look at him.

“I didn’t mean that to be scolding,” this time, Vil sighed. “Just a reminder that you need to take care of yourself. Maybe a spa day is in order.”

That did sound nice. “Can we do hair masks?”

“Of course, my dear.”

Idia: “Big Brother, you have a guest!”

Idia fought the urge to groan when Ortho popped his head into the room. Why did people always have to bother him on raid night?

Just as he was about to tell Ortho to send whoever it was away, a second head appeared.

“Hey, Idia.” the Ramshackle prefect sounded drained, enough to make him type a quick “AFK” into the chat and turn to them.

“Everything...alright?”

They stepped fully into the room, returning Ortho’s cheerful wave before closing the door and collapsing face-first onto Idia’s bed. “There’s too many people out there.”

“Mood.”

“And they all want me to do stuff for them.”

“Also mood.”

“So can I hide in here for a little? Please?” they turned their head to look at him with pleading eyes. “I’ll be quiet, I know it’s raid night.”

Idia turned to glance at the screen. The team he had gotten saddled with this time around was garbo - three tanks and no healer, honestly - so he was fairly confident they weren’t finishing the dungeon. Shaking his head, he clicked a few buttons and the screen returned to his desktop.

“Bunch of losers anyway,” he mumbled, getting up from his chair. “Wanna play something else?”

“Can we play Skull Girls?”

A few moments later, they were sitting side-by-side on the bed with the opening for the game playing on one of Idia’s monitors

This was what they needed. No people besides the two of them, no lazy Headmasters asking them to take care of problems way beyond their physical and emotional capacity, no chaotic cats threatening to light everything on fire. Just a nice little break.

Slowly, careful, so as not to startle him, they leaned over until their head was resting on his shoulder. He tensed, but his hair didn’t turn red, so they counted that as progress.

“Thanks, Idia.”

“N-N-No problem.”

Malleus: Okay, so this probably hadn’t been one of their better ideas.

Sleep just wasn’t happening tonight. All of the things they had to worry about kept running through their head, and every time they thought they were about to drop off, something else popped up. Eventually, they had given up and decided to take a walk.

Unfortunately, they had completely forgotten how cold it could get at night. Even with the jacket they had pulled on over their pajamas, they were shivering.

“You’re up late.”

The deep voice startled them, but they managed to compose themselves before turning around. “So are you, Tsunotarou.”

Malleus Draconia smiled softly at the nickname, looking absolutely ethereal with the small green lights flitting around him. “It’s dangerous to be out alone at night, Child of Man.”

“The gargoyles will protect me.” they said cheekily. Malleus chuckled.

“And what of me?” he asked. “Do I not get the honor of protecting you?”

“You can fight the gargoyles for the honor.”

Again, Malleus laughed, before noticing the subtle tremors that wracked the human’s body. “You’re cold.”

“This wasn’t my best-laid plan.” they sighed, tugging their jacket closer to their body. “I always forget how cold it is at night.”

Malleus hummed before opening his arms. “Come here, then. I’ll keep you warm.”

They hesitated for a moment before stepping into his embrace, sighing as his body heat seeped into their being. “Wow, you really are warm.”

“Dragons run hotter than humans,” he explained, tugging their head beneath his chin. “It’s why I have no trouble roaming around at night.”

“Lucky.”

“Well,” he murmured. “I’ll simply have to accompany you on your nighttime adventures to keep you warm.”

#twisted wonderland #disney's twisted wonderland #twst riddle #twst leona #twst azul #twst kalim #twst vil #twst idia #twst malleos

[klanceficatalogue]

Klance Fic Starter Pack

So back in June of 2018 I made a Klance Fic Starter Pack post but since it’s been a long while since then I decided it’s finally time for an update. So here we have it! - Karri

so why don’t we fall by aknightley (1/1 | 8,218 | Explicit)

Five times Lance used a pet name for Keith, and one time Keith used one for Lance.

Keith has no basis for having a relationship with someone, so he's trying to follow Lance's lead.

//nsfw

The Marks We Make by wittyy_name (12/12 | 255,302 | Mature)

Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he'll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don't say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It's not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can't bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he's resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by.

Keith Kogane dreads the day he'll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He's just an art student who's struggling to find his place in the world. There's so much he hasn't been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can't do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

//nsfw

(shallura, hunk/shay)

Nightmares by Trashness (1/1 | 14,864 | Teen And Up)

Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.

Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.

call me, beep me (10/10 | 85,591 | General)

(00:31) Do you think she gave me the wrong number on purpose? (00:31) Or was it a genuine mistake? (00:32) Like maybe she writes funny and I misread it? (00:32) Some of the numbers do look a little dodgy... (00:33) Cause, you know, her threes could very easily be poorly formed eights? And maybe she writes her sevens like her ones? (00:45) What (00:46) The (00:46) Fuck??? (00:47) Oh good, you are awake!

where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there

(shallura)

Shut Up and Dance With Me by wittyy_name (15/15 | 249,827 | Mature)

Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith.

Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo.

With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals... or they might crash and burn.

//nsfw

(shallura)

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by klancekorner (13/13 | 135,555 | Mature)

Lance and Keith have been best friends since first grade. Lance’s brain is always on overdrive and Keith’s blunt, realistic ass can never keep up. They both come to realize that sometimes you can learn a lot about loving yourself by loving someone else.

//anxiety //insecurities //nsfw

i bet you look good on the dancefloor by xShieru (7/7 | 43,295 | Teen And Up)

"So like in 'Step Up'?" Allura shrugs. "Now that you put it like that - yes. I guess it's just like in 'Step Up'." The smile that she sends Shiro's way - followed by a shy wave, eugh - is sickening to say the least, and Lance still doesn't believe in dance camps.

-

Lance McClain's dancing career begins and ends with Keith.

Keith just wants to find out what Lance's deal is.

(shallura)

you never stood a chance by kagshina (1/1 | 12,221 | Teen And Up)

lance to hunk ♡ >i’m gonna fukin die hunk oh mygod i sent >keith a work out selfie that i wan supposed to fcukin send to you and you know what it said >”BET YOU WANNA LICK THESE NIPS” >HUNK I WILL NEVE BE ABLE TO FCE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO DI E

(Or, Keith is beautiful, Lance has a crush, and there's lots of shirtless selfies)

nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts (1/1 | 50,369 | Teen And Up)

Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

Sweet Quiznak by CheckeredCloth (4/4 | 6,819 | Teen And Up)

"You're really into him," Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance's face is on fire. Hunk is killing him.

"Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would've mowed his ass like grass. That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife."

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet. Or maybe just the one.

//blood //injury

What a Healing Pod Can’t Repair by Remember_Me (12/12 | 55,777 | Teen And Up)

The compromised wormhole was ripping apart at the seams, sending everyone spiraling away in completely different directions. Lance could feel himself being pulled and bent in ways he was definitely not supposed to be. -- Stitching the team back together after everyone is separated is difficult, and for one Paladin rescue wouldn't be coming for a very long time.

//violence //blood

Bonding Time by magisterpavus (1/1 | 16,416 | Explicit)

“Shiro, I fucked up,” Keith blurted, wringing his hands.

Shiro paused mid-punch, shooting him a quizzical look. “What? What happened?”

“I think,” Keith whispered, “I think I accidentally roofied Lance. With my dick.”

//nsfw

Homesick at Space Camp by K0bot (15/15 | 74,280 | Teen And Up)

Lance realizes he's been an asshole to Keith, and on a diplomatic mission to a key planet for the Voltron alliance he... overcompensates.

//blood //injuries //panic attacks

we’ll make it, you and me by ghostcribs (1/1 | 6,421 | Teen And Up)

"Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

//injury

time out of mind by aknightley (2/2 | 27,849 | Teen And Up)

Keith and Lance wake up married. In the future.

He lays there a moment, processing the faint throbbing in his head, a strange bitter taste like lemons in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, the room spins wildly into a kaleidoscope of colors, so he closes them again, breathing in and out until he feels less like he might throw up. He suddenly registers a warm weight over his waist, and lifts his head to see a brown arm thrown over him. It looks startlingly familiar, but different, bigger than he remembers, more toned.

Keith turns all the way around and comes face to face with Lance sleepily blinking his own eyes open.

A Fish And A Bird by Methoxyethane (1/1 | 13,141 | Teen And Up)

Lance has a boyfriend. Lance does not realize he has a boyfriend. Keith, understandably, does not react well.

On Thin Ice by anonimina (11/11 | 205,795 | Mature)

This multi-chapter fic chronicles the lives of a hockey player named Keith who gets enlisted into figure skating lessons by his brother, Shiro, to "work on his footwork". There he meets a pompous - yet talented - figure skater named Lance and gets swept away by both the sport and the skater.

Or: the not-so-simple story of two people trying to navigate the complexities of living in an ever changing world and face the traumas they've buried far away from the sunlight.

//anxiety 

(shallura, hunk/shay)

bench press me by eggboi (1/1 | 1,683 | Teen And Up)

“The hell are you doing?” Keith grumbles out, body mid-push up. There’s a snicker behind him, too close to his ears, though Keith can’t really understand what would be so amusing about this. Then again, he’s not really sure why Lance is lying on him while he’s doing push ups either. Other than to be, of course, annoying.

“Nothing.” Lance finally says. Keith hears the grin in his voice, which only proves to irritate him a little more. ‘Nothing’ his ass. “Continue with what you’re doing, Mr. ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Socialization’.”

(Lance, as always, tries to annoy Keith by making his exercise harder. It doesn’t work. At all.)

My Youth Is Yours by MilkTeaMiku (10/10 | 29,980 | General)

An unforseen blast in the middle of a battle de-ages Lance into a child for a week.

Keith does not understand babies.

#klance #voltron #vld #klance fic #klance fics #voltron fic #voltron fics #vld fic #vld fics #klance starter pack #klance fic starter pack

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

Travis-centered plots because I Like fix it’s… (I just finished typing them all, I’m ashamed for my sinful brain oml)

- Larry and Travis having once been friends but being torn apart by Travis’ father. Larry keeping an eye on Travis for years but then turning his attention to Sal, whom in turn receives the sudden disdain of Travis.

Sal confronts Travis in the bathrooms one day and Larry listens from the door. Eventually Sal talks Travis into tears. He confesses to being jealous of Sal and not wanting Larry to stop focusing on him, even if Larry ends up hating him. How his dad would beat him if Travis and Larry ever got close again. Larry barges in and holds Travis close. They reconcile (Sal opting to let the boys talk, clearly not in the mood to see Enemies to Lovers tonguing den in the school bathroom.

They uproot and destroy the cult, blah blah blah, Happily ever after and Travis gets help for his trauma induced depression and anxiety.

- Travis has been off for a few days. He doesn’t antagonize anyone. Philip does more talking and ginger touching that Travis violently jerks away from. During class he barely responds and teachers don’t try to force him. Sal didn’t expect to find Travis sleeping on a bench one day. His worn shoes now tattered with holes at the bottom. His black eye prominent but accompanied by a busted lip and what looked to be severe damage to his legs.

Not sure how he did it, but Sal managed to convince Travis to come home with him. Introduces Travis to Henry and leads him to the bathroom where he washed off and got treated. His damage was severe and Sal really wanted to call the police but just seeing a fearful Travis weened him off the idea.

Larry was not too pleased to find Travis at Sals. He almost yelled until he noted Travis look at his raised hand and cower from him. Larry pausing and pulls Sal to the side to understand. Of course they don’t know the full story but it’s enough to have Larry texting the group for help. Most were curious about what could lead them to wanting to help Travis. Ash, however, seemed to know a lot.

They find out about Travis’ abuse, the cult. Travis helps a little. He is still terrified of them but they start to grow on him with time. He even allows contact with Sal rarely, who shows him his face during a bonding moment at the dead of night. Larry makes playlists and CDs to help Travis get accustomed to loud noises (many of which are songs Larry personally thinks Travis would enjoy.

After the gang destroys and puts the cult behind bars. No demons, no murders, and no dead friends. Sal manages to convince Travis to report his father, thankfully they kept his clothes to give to the state police, Todd refused to trust the local police after further investigating the cult and their connections.

Healing and coping, cuddling and coddling. Travis getting the love and attention he deserves! Could end with him dating someone or him just being under their care for a while.

—Salvis but Sal is a bit more aggressive with Travis. Fuck it ABO, Travis is a very spicy omega that pretends to be a Beta. Sal is a strong scented alpha, like it’s a musky and domineering scent compared to his appearance. Larry is an alpha, though his scent is murky and smoky, and he doesn’t act like the stereotypical alpha. Travis nitpicks them like usual, though sometimes they are too distracted by the nice smell seeping off of him. Larry sneers and asks if Travis mom scented him before school. Travis is upset at this. Much more emotional than usual. Sal notes the spike in scent and jabs Larry.

Uh oh, Travis is presenting in the bathroom, and beta Philip isn’t able to fight off the alphas coming to investigate the scent, thankfully Sal is here to soothe and calm the terrified Travis while his friends help fend off the other students.

Mr. Phelps is pissed about an omega son. Travis is constantly scented with distress. He isn’t allowed to talk about it but everyone can smell it. They are well aware of Travis’ fluctuating weight, fatigue and his tan skin turning pale and bruised worse than before. Larry is annoyed by this but can’t tell whether it’s the scent affecting him or his stern belief in protecting omegas from abusive alphas.

Sal hates it, he knows he felt the mate bond but Travis doesn’t seem to notice. Travis’ suffering eats away at Sal until he all but corners Travis and propositions him to save him from his father and give him sanctuary. It takes a lot to convince Travis. Heck, he has to promise Larry wouldnt hurt him (Larry later seeks Travis to reconcile their bad blood).

They get to know eachother. Sal is head over heels and watching Travis grow and blossom into his omega blood. Travis starts falling for someone else and Sal tries to be supportive (until he can’t even look at Travis without feeling heartache). But Travis notes he doesn’t love ____ And follows his heart to Sal. They bond, they love and boom, happy little family. (With three cute babies because Travis and Sal deserve happy families)

Larvis: roughly the same as the salvos ABO but Larry straight up picks up Travis and carries him home. Travis tries to fight but is swaddled and pampered until he’s fast asleep and purring in Larry’s arms.

Mr. Phelps doesn’t have much ground to stand on when he tries to take Travis back. Larry confirming that Travis is his mate and based off of Phelps’ beliefs he should reside with his mate.

Travis is surprised his father backs off so easily (because how could the pastor refute what he preaches?? Such blasphemy would be heard by the church blah blah blah). Larry and Travis talk and Larry admits that they are indeed mates, he never brought it up for Travis’ health. He was already struggling to care for himself, a mating bond would send his already feeble body and fragile mind spiraling. Larry also admits he knew they were mates ever since he presented, which wasn’t that long after entering highschool. But, Travis was so proud to be ‘normal’ and not some horny mess like the others. He also didn’t like seeing Travis harass and bully others, which probably aided in his aggressive rejection of the omega and prolonged Travis’ presentation.

Life goes on and Larry and Travis are happily married with four kids (two more in the oven, because Larry is a very affectionate husband). Cult was handled and Sal is NOT dead and very much the worlds best uncle.

-Travis having a hot girl summer.

That’s it. That’s the plot.

Thotty church twink marching about in short shorts and tank tops (sinful!) showing off his goodies to the masses. Larry shamelessly offers to partake, and gets thrown for a whirlwind when Travis’ phat ass is delightfully uncontrollable. Sal jokingly shoots his shot and winds up slumped in the back of the church from immaculate head.

Mr. Phelps is away so the thot is out to play. (Courtesy of Mama Phelps aiding and abetting her sons growth as a person. He may be throwing it back to the boys he once sneered at but at least he’s nicer to people)

-Travis being rescued from the Phelps home after a concerned report to the state police. The church closed and his father put behind bars for many accounts of child abuse and neglect and the disappearance of Travis’ mother.

Sal and gang are curious about what the new home will do to Travis after months of rehabilitation, and all damn near faint when they see Travis with long pink hair and a cute sun dress marching into the school. Directly towards them and apologizing for his horrible treatment of them, specifically Sal. They can’t believe his change at first but after weeks of watching him, he seems genuinely happier.

This new happiness starts to get unsettling to Larry, who watches Travis and Philip be closer than before. He shouldn’t care he hates Travis! But god he wished the boy would wrap his arms around his and march down the halls. He would kill to get surprise back hugs or do the hugging. He wanted to share lunch with Travis. Be hand fed meals and have his mouth cleaned whilst being scolded.

Fuck, he’s in love! He thought he nipped that in the bud when Sal started getting bullied by Travis. But no, Travis being rescued from his awful father and being a genuinely good person from then on was astounding. Hell, he even brought Sal treats as an apology for walking in on him with his mask off once. Sal said it was fine but Travis babbled ok about feeling bad because Sal looked terrified even though Travis didn’t think Sal was any less cool. (Yes, Sal cried in his room about how much it meant for someone to say that).

For fucks sake, Travis had pictures upon pictures of his new family and their pets. PETS. He had dooogs, god Larry lost his mind seeing Travis jogging around town with dogs in shorts and a sweaty, almost see through tank top!! He’s too gay for this.

He finally confesses, maybe tries to play it off as a joke, but Travis just smiles sweetly and pecks his cheek. He’s sorry but he’s already dating someone. Larry tries not to let his disappointment show, but he just can’t feel the need to go to school for a couple of days. Hides out in his tree house and just smokes. Cause, cmon.. who’d wanna date him?? All he does is smoke and play around! He hasn’t had a stable relationship in years and most he’s known for is sleeping with whoever he deems the hottest.

Sal notices his behavior and tries to comfort him, not sure why Larry is like this, by offering to introduce him to his partner. Maybe they have a friend Larry is interested in. Larry wants to be supportive but he really doesn’t care to see Sals new beau(ty). He really just wanted to camp out in the tree house and smoke away the pain. Or, he did until he sees Travis and Sal holding hands and nuzzling on the couch one day. Sals legs on Travis’ and Travis combing Sals hair. Larry felt like his world came crashing down, his best friend?? And his first and worst crush?? The crush that sent him spiraling for what could have been weeks? Sal is innocent, he didn’t know that Larry was madly in love with Travis. Didn’t know that Travis so politely rejected him and offered to cease contact if Larry felt he couldn’t be around him.

Larry wasn’t much of a romantic after that. He played around with whoever he felt needed love. His partying spiraling out of control in adult hood. Travis tried to contact him and help him find a good person, but any attempts to help Larry ended with Larry crying to him drunkenly. Asking why he wasn’t good enough, why he couldn’t have been Sal. Travis wasn’t allowed near Larry after Larry drunkenly made advances at him, he doesn’t blame Larry he’s extremely emotional, but Sal felt Larry would only get worse the more they stayed in contact, so they were kept apart.

Larry never loved anyone as much as he loved Travis Fisher.

-Last one was a sadder Onesided Larvis, this one is Larry teasing and cornering Travis so much that Travis tries to shock him by kissing him. He came home with some hickies and a very prominent limp.

They’re not saying, yet, but Wingman Sal is politely judging Travis into Larry’s arms. They are constantly alone together. Larry blowing Travis’ back out in an abandoned amusement park when the others split up to explore. “He sprained his ankle running from a shadow” Hmph, Travis smelt like axe. He HATES the smell of axe… but okay lovebirds.

Sal has 100% walked in on the secret lovers getting frisky when moms out. Later helps Travis shop for more pretty clothes, because who wouldn’t want a shopping body??? That’s almost illegal to not take the opportunity.

Larry eats ass. A lot. Travis can literally be on FaceTime shopping with Sal and Larry just slips under the covers and enjoys his fill of boyfriend cheekies~ yum!

Travis, as revenge, will give the gawk gawk 9000. Larry is NOT safe if he thinks Travis has forgotten the embarrassment of Sal chuckling and telling him he has to go walk his homework. He could be on the phone with his boss or Lisa and Travis will give the sloppiest top he’s ever had. (Praise the son for horni bratty bottoms)

#travis phelps #laravis #Larry x Travis #salvis #sal x travis #larvis #sal fisher #sally face au #sally face #larry johnson #I’m but a hole #so Travis will be too #I have more but I so tired ;u; don’t wanna think #but yeah Travis either getting help or being adopted and rehabilitated #god I love the idea of Travis with long luscious hair in the prettiest gowns #prancing around the school and bringing hand made treats to his peers #special treats to the one he likes #long post

[enigma-im]

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Rating: Teen Relationship: Space Orc x F!Human Warnings: angst, avoidance, emotional constipation, repression, fluff, space orc

Word Count: 3812

insecurities are like another person in a relationship, whispering in the other’s ears till something happens.

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

Soulmates are something to rejoice over. Which is understandable, it's the person who is perfect for you. How could anything go wrong? It's your other half, your partner in crime, your true paring. Everyone believed it was a simple affair, you meet and then happily ever after. It was the basics until we found out there was life outside of earth, then things got a bit more complicated. New cultures to take into account along with physiology.

Things aren't as straight forward after that.

When I was a kid I use to fantasize about my soulmate. Would they be tall, short, fat, skinny? What kind of music do they like, and will they also eat their sandwiches without the crust? I adored the idea of having a new best friend to hang with. As I got older the idea never really left, morphing more into adult-type thinking. It isn't till I could translate my mark did I begin to have doubts.

It was an off chance that I happened to see the language my soulmate spoke, a weird situation really. I was fumbling about online and I saw it, just a new article that had a picture of the written language. It as scraggly and difficult to read, like a doctor's handwriting. With further research, I found exactly what species my mate was likely to be.

Orc.

I was excited at the time, I figured it out. My mate was to be an Orc, large creature with mostly human parts. To better prepare I did some more digging, looking up anything I could that wasn't video game lore. It was all so new and surprising. I had a direction now, an image to apply to my fantasies.

Since then I have studied extensively on Orc culture. Learning the ins and outs of how they live, socialize, idolize, and talk. It was all so engaging and rich in lore. It felt like I was getting to know my mate already.

The more I researched I soon had an inching doubt. It started off small, basic insecurities. As I read about their courting did I really give it some thought.

Orcs value strength in their culture. A strong mate is heavily sought after. If a soulmate wasn't of great value then they are known to cast them aside. The idea puts lead in my stomach. I'm not strong, or large like their women. I'm tall but I fit more in the string bean category more than anything. I could never be what a typical orc would want.

As I spiraled in these thoughts one thing became clear. I will not be putting myself through that humiliation. I can't stand the thought of being viewed so lowly by someone who is supposed to be my perfect match. To be laughed at by them or be a dirty secret will kill me inside. I can't be an embarrassment, I refuse.

Thereafter I ignored my mark, keeping occupied in school and work. A little while later it became easy to avoid thoughts about him. It was like I never had a soulmate.

It wasn’t as freeing as I thought it would be.

After college I jump into my career, climbing the corporate ladder quickly. It's easy enough when you are married to your work. That even the thought of free time brings anxiety and stress. After a few years, I am exactly where I want to be. Traveling the world meeting new important people.

I have been everywhere and met every type of person. Orcs being one of those types of people. When I first saw one the excitement peaked its head, only for a moment. Then anxiety took over. What if it's him? The orc said his first words to me and the sigh of relief and disappointment was alarming. A few more introduction after that and the rising emotions settled. It was back to normal after that. Pretending that 'special' someone didn't exist.

Years passed and nothing happened. I didn't meet him or even get a trail. My soul felt numb, everything felt numb. It's hardly noticeable after so long, just a hole I've dealt with. I tried dating to fill the void but no one wants to date outside their partner. Anyone who does has lost their loved one already, wanting to also fill the void. Once they find out mine is still out there they break off quickly. So I focus on my career, it's all I have.

In my early 30s, I'm working in Germany. A lovely place but I always preferred the isles of Scotland, specifically Skye. At the embassy passing around some documents, I bump shoulders with an imposing figure. He is quite tall and buff, the poster child of orcs if I've ever seen one. He twists around, apologizing for the shoulder check.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there. Shouldn't have had my focus too far in the clouds while walking a crowded room," he smiles curtly.

I stare blank face at him, all primary functions failing. I can hear- feel- my heart beating against my chest. Everything is cold, my fingers numb but tingly. My vision tunnels and my brain just screams one thing. Run.

Rudely I turn and quickly walk away, giving no further reaction or words to my mat- to the stranger. I don't have a direction as I make it out the nearest door. I close it swiftly behind me, leaning against it. Sliding down to the floor I ball up. Pressing my knees to my chest and begin crying. Years of repression and closeting emotions are now boiling over. The sadness I ignored, convincing myself that they do not exist, is all on the surface.

I hiccup, stubbornly wiping away tears on the floor of a bathroom. All I can think is,

Fuck.

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

I have to say I've gotten good at not only avoiding emotions but people too. A week and a half of only catching glimpses of the orc. Which is a lot of glimpses, he is out and about often. It helps I'm stuck in my office for the time, only leaving for lunch. Still, he is always around when I'm out.

After I can pretend I've forgotten about him does he show up in my office. Knocking on my door a little after lunch. Too focused on work I don't hear him come in. I look up from my desk and choke.

"Hello again," he smiles," I have a folder for you, Reggie asked if I could bring it by."

"uh," I stare. My fingers grip the pen roughly, my fist almost shaking with the tension. The only thought running through my head now is, 'don't say anything'. If I talk then he will know. Then he will reject me. Then I can't go on pretending.

"You alright," he flicks the folder against his chest," didn't mean to startle you or anything. I know orcs can be kind of intimidating." I almost snort at the irony of that statement. Very intimidating indeed.

Instead of answering I hold out my hand for the folder, my other still white gripping the pen. He quickly crosses the room, handing me the folder before walking back to the door. With a curt wave, he is gone.

Once the door clicks into place I take in a greedy breath, slamming my head into my crossed arms. I groan, mumbling into my fist. My brain is muddled and my heart conflicted. I yearn to follow him but I also crave to leave back to the states. But one thought is resting quietly in the back of my head.

He looks good in those pants.

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

This idiot is now making it damn hard to avoid him. It's like he has made it his mission to get me to talk. Intercepting my way to my office in the mornings, meeting me at lunch, or delivering things to my office. He is determined, I'll give him that.

I'm almost running out of excuses. It's hard to make excuses without talking. I'm almost convinced he thinks I'm mute. Which would have been a grand way out if it wasn't for my coworkers plotting against me. As I talk with them they try to bring him into the conversation, promptly shutting me up.

I learn at some point his name is Garson. When I first heard I actually blushed, like a school girl! It was just his name and he didn't even say it. I will never understand the inner workings of soulmates but Garson always makes my controlled emotions run rapid.

As I sit in my office, absentmindedly writing my door opens. I don't look up, lost in thought for the hundredth time today.

"Hey," that deep -sexy- voice says. I sigh, shoulders slumping. I glance ahead, annoyed, and flustered. Garson waves shyly, holding up another folder. At this point, he has become my special delivery man. "From Vanya," he sets the file down," she asked I bring it on account of her bum leg. I told her it would be a bad idea to play soccer with her teens." his tense chuckle makes my heart throb. I want to ease his anxiety, but I can't. I just shrug, still writing.

He sighs, walking back out the door. The click echoed around the room and I find myself slamming my head on the desk again.

"Fuck," I groan, pounding my fist on the folder.

As I remind myself for the hundredth time why I'm doing this I notice my notes. I shift the paper and grimace at what I wrote.

Garson. Garson. Garson.

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

I can't fucking take it! He is more determined than I am stubborn. Watching him find more excuses to come to my office is almost impressive in its own right. He has upgraded from delivery boy to a food service. At some point he has found out my favorite snacks and drinks.

He interrupts me at the door, handing me a coffee while ranting about his night. As I ignore him, feeling like the biggest idjit, other coworkers join in. the number of dirty looks I get doesn't outweigh the appreciation I have for them talking to him. I feel like complete garbage when I don't respond to him, letting him look like a fool talking to someone who clearly doesn't want to talk. Thank the kindness of others.

Around lunch he pops in for a chat, offering a spot next to him in the cafeteria. I shake my head, pretending to be too busy to interact with him. Every time he offers and I decline he leaves so dejected. It's so heartbreaking to see him like that.

Day after day he tries his damndest to make friends with me. I cannot fathom this type of devotion to someone he doesn't know. I'm almost tempted to think he knows but its impossible. He is just too friendly for his own good.

Some coworkers have cornered me to ask what is up, some more confrontational than others. Some are casual in their attempts, asking simply why I'm so mean to the orc. Others are personally offended for him, being passive-aggressive to the point that I ask them to take his attention off me if they are so angry. Some do, which I'm grateful for. But he isn't swayed so easily.

I sit in my office, alone, contemplating my choices. I can't keep dealing with this. The heartbreak I feel rejecting him is as bad as him rejecting me. I'm doing what I was afraid of him doing, worse is he doesn't even know.

I have to leave.

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

It was weak, I'll admit that. Asking for a transfer was probably the easiest way out. I know I should just talk to him, let him have a choice in this, but I can't. he is a sweet guy, everyone knows that, but he is still an orc. He deserves someone strong and proud as his kind is. It's impossible for me to be that.

As I wallow on my last week of work I clean up my drawers to distract myself. I sort through some papers when the door bangs open. The knob slams against the wall, bouncing away towards that alluring figure. Garson walks in, grabbing the door and closing it behind him. His sneer is alarming, along with his clenched fist.

"You're leaving," he shouts," are you kidding me?" he walks closer to the desk, turning to pace the length of the room. " I tried, I thought maybe it's because I'm an orc and you were scared of me. I understand that, humans are super sensitive that way. But no! I was nice, patient, and doing everything I could to be nonthreatening. Yet that didn't help did it? It seems like nothing was going to fix that. So my question should really be why is my soulmate running from me?" I gasp, gawking at him. He stops his pacing, glaring down at me with crossed arms. He shrugs," well? Why are you running from me?"

I can't answer, shocked and startled by this admission. He doesn't allow me the time to stew on the question. He shoots forwards, slamming his hands on the desk. I jump.

"Why are you running from me," he chokes on a sob," It's been killing me to give you time. To watch you every day and not be able to hold you. If you want to leave, then fine. I won't stop you. I just want to know where I went wrong, what did I do? What could I have done? Was I always going to be not enough for you? Well?"

I bolt up at his words," I was scared! I was fucking scared, ok?" we both startle at my outburst. His self-deprecating look mixed with his attempt at a sneer melt off his face. I sigh, "I didn't want to be rejected, I couldn't handle that kind of pain." I drop my head in defeat.

Garson ducks down onto his knees, catching my eyes. "Why did you assume I would reject you," he asks.

"because you’re an orc and I'm not," I answer.

He scoffs," and you're a human and I'm not. Do you really see that as being a huge problem?"

"Yes," I slap the desk," of course it's going to be a problem. I'm not strong or proud, I'm weak and antisocial. I cry every time I watch sad dog movies. I can't lift more than half my body weight. I also don't have anything worthy for you. I'm an ordinary human while you are part of a devoted species. I am not worthy."

Garson just stares after my outburst. He looks between my eyes then gives me a once over. He huffs, standing straight. He combs his fingers through his long hair, turning away with a laugh.

"You have to be kidding me," he laughs again. His chuckles turn into full-blown laughter till he is lounging against the door.

"What's so funny," I snap. His laughs trail off as he watches me. When he doesn't answer, I sit, arms crossed and lip sneered.

"Sorry," he looks to his feet," it's just ironic."

"Yea, how so?"

I watch him straighten from the wall and casually flop into one of the chairs in front of my desk. Everything is quiet as he collects his thoughts. I faintly hear the sound of shuffling outside my door. No doubt some people heard the shouting.

"When I first found out what species my soulmate was I was excited. I had a direction now, I felt closer to you. I was so excited I told everyone I could. People of my clan held their tongues at my joy, only giving pitiful looks but no words. I never noticed it. It's when my parents sat me down to explain did I get it," he shifts in his chair," 'humans are scared of us' my mom said. 'they are weak' my dad said. I became torn between the fear of hurting you and the fear of you not wanting me because you'd think I'd hurt you.

"When I finally read what your words said I let their words alter me. instead of rejecting the idea of you I sent out to change. I got jobs that interacted with humans and kept myself small. I'm not a threat, I never was. I took every chance to chat with humans, to get used to them. It was all in preparation for you. I was- am- scared of you." he meets my eyes, his so full of fear. My heart patters, the view of vulnerability shaking me to the core.

"y-you were scared of me," I point to myself. The idea is laughable. "So we are a bunch of idiots too worried about each other's feelings to just ask straight out what we actually felt. That is funny," I chuckle. I huff, sitting back in my seat.

The awkward silence should be stifling but we are captured in our thoughts. It's amazing in its irony that he was also the one scared. I feel relieved and foolish all at once.

"so," he bounces his fingers on his thigh," what now?" I shift in my seat, also curious about our direction.

"depends," I nibble on my lip," do you want me despite everything?" the question lingers in the air for me. The answer I've dreaded my entire life. The choice that decides my happiness.

"Despite everything," he ponders," you ignore me for weeks, avoiding any interaction. Not talking to me less you wish to reveal yourself, and requesting a transfer. Despite all that, despite the ignorance and stubbornness, I want you." the satisfaction that flows through me is startling. My hand shakes from the previous fear and now incomparable joy.

"I never thought I would hear those words," I sigh," thank fuck."

He stands from his chair, walking over the side of my desk. "So you want me too? Despite everything," he crouches down. I grab at his face, finally allowing myself the chance to admire his handsome face. His long tusk and pierced lip. His dark green eyes and even darker green skin. He is so beautiful.

I answer him by leaning forward and capturing his lips. Pressing fiercely against him, showing him my cyclone of emotions. He returns it in full, shedding his insecurities to just hold me.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against him.

"it's ok, I'm sorry too," he kisses me again. He cards his fingers through my hair, petting down its length. I don't want to leave this moment, it filling the hole that sat too long in my heart. Though one question makes me part.

"How did you know," I ask. He traces his nose over mine with a hum.

"How did I know what," he asks.

"How did you know I was your soulmate, I didn’t say anything," I clarify. Garson answers by leaning down to my neck and taking a large inhale.

"Fresh baked cookies and honey milk," he kisses my cheek," only my soulmate can smell so good."

I laugh," you can smell your soulmate?"

"of course, all orcs can. Do humans not have this," he leans back. I shake my head, taking the time to lean in and smell him.

"pine tree and blueberries," I ponder," no, pine tree and strawberries."

"pine tree and fruit?"

"I guess so," I shrug, grinning like an idiot. He smiles with me, leaning back in for another heart stopping kiss.

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

After the week is over I transfer back to the states. The distance is aching, the void opening as he isn't there to fix it. I call him every night, regretting more than anything signing those papers. I belong right next to Garson in Germany. Though I can see now that I deserve to deal with the repercussions of my actions. Still, it sucks.

A month in I feel as empty as I did before he showed up. The daily calls help but seeing him would be better. My work suffers as a result, to the point that I consider taking vacation time to visit him.

Soon enough I do just that, putting in a week-long vacation request. I forgo telling Garson of my visit, wanting to surprise him. It's exciting to be able to this with someone. I always watch couples on tv surprising each other like this. It's nice to feel so normal.

The night before my flight I start packing. As I collect my clothes I hear a knock at the door. Tossing the items down I go over and answer. I throw open the door expecting some salesman but I'm greeted to a hulking figure.

"Garson!" I jump him with a hug. I pepper his face with kisses, too caught up in the growing affection.

"Hey, nice to see you too," he laughs, holding me close. He walks in, shutting the door behind himself as he goes into my living room. He sets us both on the couch, leaning down for a kiss.

"What are you doing here," I ask surprised.

"What, can't come visit my mate?"

"Oh shush, you know that's not what I meant. I'm asking because I was just getting ready to visit," I point towards my room," I'm in the middle of packing actually."

"really," he strokes my thigh," I guess great minds think alike."

"I guess they do," I smile. Having him here is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. I underestimated his importance until now.

We can't help but make up for lost time, making out like a bunch of teenagers on the couch till we make it to the bedroom. Pushing the luggage and clothes off the bed we make love for the first time. When he first pushes in it's like a puzzle finally coming together. I can't believe I was going to deny myself this, even with the chance of denial this is too great of a reward.

We lay in bed, me resting against his broad chest and him petting my head. We bask in the afterglow and silence, overjoyed with each other's company.

"I got some news," he mumbles, breaking the quiet. I hum, nuzzling into his chest. "I got transferred here," he answers.

I snap straight, looking down at him, "You're going to work with me?"

"yea," he smiles," it's exciting, I've never been to the states before."

"really? It's not much but now that you’re here perhaps it is," I cup his jaw, stealing a kiss while my excitement is hot.

"you flirt," he teases," I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I mumble against his lips.

We fall asleep that night, curious but excited about our future.

I'm glad things worked out despite our ignorance. How could anyone deny their mate?

----------------------- 

I just.... I just love orcs so much. soulmate stories ain’t so bad either.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#orcs are hot #orc boyfriend #orc x reader #monster boyfriend #exophilia #Enigma-IM #fluff #soulmate #garson

[kittybellestark]

It’s Like Falling From The Sky

Hi I’m exhausting and things suck rn so i wrote this 

I know this is coming out but I really can’t promise that I’ll be able to be very active on here with everything going on with my Dad. 

If you have mad e a fic request I am working on it have no fears I have not forgotten I just needed to write out my emotions so I’m sorry.

I’ll get this on AO3 in the next few days

TW: Flashbacks, Minor Character Deaths, Re-Visiting Peter’s Traumas, Depression, Probably Disassociation.

-

Peter remembers. He hated remembering this. He couldn’t even talk to other people about this. Well, he probably could, but he wasn’t supposed to. 

Dr. Josh said so. 

He didn’t like Dr. Josh very much. He was there when it happened. Dr. Josh went through the same thing Peter did. Sometimes Dr. Josh still came to visit Peter up until the time Skip happened. Dr. Josh was there for Peter’s first trauma yet he wasn’t there for the next one. And Peter hated him.

Peter remembered the plane. 

Officially Peter was never in that plane. There was no records of Peter ever being there, or Dr. Josh being there. But Peter remembered it in perfect clarity. It was one of the only memories Peter had of his parents. 

It was fine. The plane ride. It was boring and he played Uno with his parents. Dr. Josh stayed seated in a corner, close to the front. It was a nice plane, a private one Oscorp had provided them. This plane was newer. Peter hadn’t ever seen it before, this wasn’t the plane his family normally took. He had liked the other plane more, that plane was familiar. 

He was the one who noticed the smoke. It was coming out of the engine. They had thought the shaking was turbulence, just a little bit of wind. The smoke clouded the sky around them. 

Peter remembers that his parents buckled him into a seat, before getting into their own. Dr. Josh went to go into the cockpit, but the door was jammed. He couldn’t get in. The locking mechanism had ceased, there was no way for Dr. Josh to get in there and Peter saw the moment he realized this. The doctor sat down and buckled in.

The lights flickering was the scariest part to Peter. That was when everyone knew things would get worse. Peter could feel it, he was able to feel his parents fear. Their fear was suffocating. It was the way his mother sobbed and his father dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking. There was no battle to be fought, they weren’t going to be able to get out of this one.

Oxygen masks dropped and Peter’s mom made sure to get one onto his face. She kissed his forehead and whispered goodbyes. He cried hard, holding onto her hand with both of his. The door had ripped off the side of the air craft and that made things cold. Cold, cold, cold. And that didn’t make sense to Peter. Outside was bright orange, the colour of warmth and his parents bedding. 

Nothing made sense. It was bad and scary and Peter hates remembering this. He hates it. Peter hates that he was there and that officially he never was. There’s been no one to talk to, no one who can understand. It was in the news, that the only two passengers onboard had died and it infuriates Peter. There was four passengers on that plane and two died. 

Peter remembers the plane going down. He remembers screaming, then he remembers waking up. There was metal scraps of plane all around him and fire, there was so much fire. He was still in his chair, strapped down to it and he couldn’t get out. He remembers calling out for his parents and then looking around for them. 

Peter remembers seeing his mother laying there on the ground. She was awake but gasping for air, her one hand on chest, a leg bent at an unnatural angle, hair melted onto her. Peter was afraid of his own mother. He couldn’t find his father, couldn’t see him, but Peter could hear his screams. Peter could hear him in pain and that scared him too. He feared the people who were meant to be safe. Peter hates himself for that too.

Peter hates Dr. Josh. He hates Dr. Josh for surviving and Peter hates that Dr. Josh for saving him and not going back for his parents. And Peter hates Dr. Josh for leaving him, for not showing up anymore. 

Peter hates Dr. Josh. He never expected to see him again. But the thing about being Peter Parker is that everything goes in the exact way that Peter just can’t predict. 

Becoming Spider-Man was never anything Peter thought he would ever do. Meeting Tony Stark was a pipe-dream, and this mentor-mentee thing was so wildly out there. Nothing ever seemed to make sense and Peter hated that too. It was always a whirlwind and never any time to process any of it. Never any time to make sense of anything.

Peter couldn’t help blaming Dr. Josh for that too. 

“You good kid?” Tony finally, finally asked. 

Distractions are good, welcomed even. Anything was better than his thoughts or the memories of his parents dying. Distractions are easy and they help. Things aren’t so painful if he’s distracted. It’s why parents teach their kids to laugh when they get hurt, it distracts them and then everything is okay.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry- I just got caught up in my head.” 

Peter couldn’t help running his hand through his hair. It was a nervous tick, at least that’s what Dr. Josh had said. Built on his anxiety after his parents death. Peter didn’t believe that to be factual. It was a way to comfort himself, his parents used to run their fingers through Peter’s hair when he was sad or sick or tired. 

He could tell that Tony didn’t believe him. Why would he? Peter hasn’t been focused recently. He needs to focus, but he just can’t seem to focus on anything other than the thought of Dr. Josh recently. It’s a problem and Peter knows it. But it’s just so easy to put the bad things on him. 

Had Dr. Josh at least saved one of his parents, Peter wouldn’t have gone into foster care. He wouldn’t have been placed into May and Ben’s home, Skip would have never been his babysitter. Peter wouldn’t have had to go onto the Oscorp field trip, and Ben would have never been murdered. If just one of his parents had lived Peter wouldn’t feel the grief or hatred he does now. More of his family would be around, he wouldn’t be made fun of for being the reason his guardians all keep dying. May would be happier, she’d have her husband and a in-law. There would never be any over-due bills. So Peter hated Dr. Josh, and it wasn’t fair to do that to him, but Dr. Josh was supposed to be a doctor. He was supposed to save lives.

“Earth to Peter.” Tony waved his hand in front of Peter’s face. “You zoned out on me while I was talking. We have a meeting to go to remember, you’re supposed to pretend to be doing intern-y things. With the Avengers?” 

Peter shook his head, trying to clear it. It was too busy most of the time. Every thought just started and ended on top of each other. But he was going into a meeting, and the Avengers were supposed to be there, so his brain needed to be clear. He couldn’t think about what is felt like to fall out of the sky and not being able to catch himself.

“Sorry, yeah, I’m here. Which Avengers?” 

Smile. Breathe. Listen. Try and be normal. Do not dwell. Not on the past. 

“I mean Cap is going to be there, he’s a total bore by the way. He drones on and on, I think we’ve all learnt to fall asleep to him talking without him noticing, you’re allowed to zone out on him. Natasha is going to be there, she’s sneaky about things so don’t fan boy too hard around her. Clint will also be there, he’ll keep things interesting. You get bored in there Clint is always doing something strange to get everyone’s attention, you two will get along like a house on fire, I’m only a little scared. And Bruce will be there, you’ve met him multiple times already though Pete, so we aren’t going to hyperventilate this time. You’re going to remember to breathe and not overwhelm Bruce with every question you have about one of his research papers.” 

Tony liked to talk with his hands. Grand gestures. It was calming to watch. Peter liked how expressive Tony was. The man said he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions but Tony showed his emotions in his movements. He was easy to read if you knew what to look for, and Peter did. Peter liked knowing. He didn’t get to know much in his life, he could never predict what was happening next and that hurt. But he could see how Tony was feeling and he could act accordingly and he liked to be able to control that.

“I’ve seen the PSA’s at school I think I’ll live. Black Widow is very intimidating so I don’t think you’ll hear me talk more than five words, she’s awesome but she could kill me in the time it takes me to blink. I cannot annoy her Mr. Stark, I’m comfortable being alive.” Tony laughed, Peter joined. “I mean really, I’ve met Dr. Banner and Black Widow has become involved with the government and on tv all the time. An no self respecting teenager doesn’t hate Captain America for those PSA’s at least a little bit. I know them all except Hawkeye really, but he’s the only Avenger that is still supposed to be a secret agent so it’s not like any pictures of him exists. Which is very annoying Mr. Stark. Ned and I hacked into your servers once to see if we could find any pictures of him- this was before I met you by the way- and you didn’t even have anything there.”

Yeah, that sounded like Peter Parker. Laughing, joking, he sounded normal. He was not spiraling. There was no imagining the lights flickering or smoke filled sky. Peter couldn’t talk about it so he shouldn’t think about it. There was no use in his brain remembering the sound of his father’s screams. He could remember so many better things, more useful things. It was over ten years ago. He had more recent trauma, plane trauma at that. This really shouldn’t be the one bad thing his brain goes to first.

Right. He’s supposed to acknowledge and follow and be normal. Peter has this. There’s no plane falling out of the sky today. He is okay. 

“I wish I was surprised about you and Ted hacking into SI servers and then getting into my own, but frankly nothing you do could really ever surprise me at this point. You’re too smart for your own good, I do expect you to take over the world Roo, but for my heart could you wait until you’re done high school.”

It was the right time to laugh. Tony was laughing, so Peter laughed. It didn’t make sense to Peter how his actions couldn’t surprise Tony. Sometimes Peter’s actions even surprise himself. But it’s not really like Peter knew himself very much anymore, not with his life continuing to be so unpredictable. Sure he had gotten used to the fake smiles, and pretending to be fine, deflecting, but that wasn’t really his actions. It just covered them up. 

Peter followed just a little bit behind Tony, it helped ease the anxiety, like a shield. He also knew it wasn’t good to use Tony like this. It was just easier sometimes, when he was scared. This wasn’t a good pattern, but neither was the rest of his life. The world owed him just this bit of comfort sometimes.

“If I’m going to take over the world then I have to take everyone by surprise Mr. Stark. Including you; unless you help me of course. I could use you for your government connections, sway them over into our favour. It really wouldn’t take much.” 

Peter shrugged as Tony stepped into the room, shaking his head while looking back at him. The room was loud as Peter stepped in, but it’s what he had expected. Stories have been told to him about the Avengers, loud and rambunctious, conversations on top of each other. Even with Thor off world the group made up for it in this small room.

“Everyone this is my personal intern. Yes I trust him, no he is not a secret love child, no you can’t interrogate. Yes he will be sitting in this meeting, no you don’t have anything to worry about. Okay? Great, Brucie you know Peter, everyone else this is Peter Parker, Peter this is everyone.” 

It’s like falling from the sky, when he see’s the Avengers. He smells the smoke and feels everything quake. He can hear his father screaming and his mother gasping for air. Everything is warm orange but he’s cold and it doesn’t make sense. He is falling from the sky and it’s way too fast and he cant keep his hold on his mothers hand. He is falling and he can’t catch himself and the world is coming at him way too fast. 

He needs to breathe.

It hurts. 

He’s trapped in the seat and everything is on fire and his family is dying.

And there is Dr. Josh pulling him out and taking him away.

Breathe. He has to breathe.

Peter is not there.

Not in the middle of no where.

Certainly not with his parents.

But he is here. In the Avengers Tower. With Dr. Josh.

He just needs to focus. He needs to breathe. His brain is running too fast and there’s too many thoughts. Peter hates him, hates Dr. Josh. The plane crashed, his parents were alive and he was carried away from them. They died by this man who was supposed to be a doctor. Peter couldn’t help but feeling the anger, over a decade of anger boiling inside of him.

Peter was never good at not saying what he thought. Words were just out of his mouth before he even thought them. It’s always been good to stop people from questioning him too much, but now it was nothing but a weakness. There was no control over this, over his words and Peter hated that he couldn’t control them. He just needed to control something and yet he couldn’t even control his stupid words.

“You killed them.” 

It didn’t even sound like his own voice. He wasn’t supposed to talk about this. He was told not too. Officially Peter was never there. And he was never meant to talk about this. He should have forgotten this.

Captain America, Steve Rogers was the first one to move, pushing himself backwards in his chair before standing up. Peter didn’t like the stance Steve took, he recognized it from school and from muggers too. It was made to intimidate. It worked. Peter found himself pushing against Tony. He didn’t know if that was to shield himself or to shield Tony. It felt selfish though. 

“Kid?” Tony whispered. 

He was clearly hesitant, scared of Peter, for Peter? Honestly, Peter wasn’t so sure. All Peter knew was that he was angry, and the man who ruined his whole life was just sitting there, like this was no big deal like it was nothing. He sat there, just barely a fake look of concern like he didn’t even recognize Peter.

“You don’t even remember me. You’re the reason my parents died, you introduced yourself as a doctor and clearly you fucking lied. They were dying in front of us. Remember that? Instead of helping them you got me out of the seat I was in and walked away. We were the only two who survived, but funny enough neither of us were put on the reports. Officially we never went on that plane. Unofficially you dropped me off in Connecticut to go into foster care, but officially I ran away from my babysitter and managed to sneak onto a train. You remember me now?” The words felt like acid, and Peter didn’t like the way the words felt in his mouth. But he was falling. “Oh, no? See, you introduced yourself to me as Doctor Josh Wilkes.”

Peter didn’t notice how he made his way further into the room. He wasn’t very aware of his body or the words that were spilling out. There was just so much pain, so much that he never talked about to anyone because they were never supposed to know. His world fell apart in front of him when he was too young to understand and Peter never got to tell anyone.

“Peter, I think you’re having a severe panic attack. Can you breathe with me?” That was Dr. Banner. 

Dr. Banner was in front of Peter’s face, enough to block his view. Tony’s arms were wrapped around Peter’s waist just enough pressure to help remind Peter where he was. It wasn’t enough for Peter’s thoughts to stay in his head, but his head had been so loud for so long. Letting it out felt better but also worse. He was finally being heard, but this wasn’t what he wanted to happen. 

Black Widow- Natasha moved around the room, stationing herself in front of her friend, and Steve looked ready to yell. None of this was what Peter wanted. He needed to gain control. He needed to take a breath and start thinking. But here was Dr. Josh, Clint Barton and everything just felt so much more like a lie. Peter felt like he’d been removed from his body and scrambled before being shoved right back in.

“No. No. You told me you were a Doctor, that you saved lives. That was all a lie. Every word you ever said to me was a lie and I hate you, I do. You told me that plane crash was our secret, that I couldn’t tell anyone. You stole my parents lives, and you ruined mine, and now you’re just sitting there, silent. You’re an Avenger, you are supposed to save lives. Why didn’t you save mine?”

There were tears streaming down Peter’s face. He’d been lied too. The man he hates wasn’t even a real person, just some persona that was put on. He hated an Avenger and he never thought he would. Peter hates Clint Barton for what was done to him. And he hates that Clint just sits there not saying anything. Looking at Peter with his eyebrows raised but otherwise looking unaffected.

He had to leave. He needed to leave and go find a place to breathe. It’d been too long and everything hurt too bad. Peter was only 6, barely had any life and yet had it all torn from him.

Peter waiting another moment for Clint to say something.

“You’re a coward.” Peter pulled himself out of Tony’s arms. “I’m leaving. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

He was leaving and Peter knew it was wrong. This was everything he hated but he should be more mature about it. Peter was raised to treat people with respect, never to shout, never call someone names. It didn’t matter who the person was, he should always treat them the way he wishes to be treated.

The past should be behind him and he just needed to stop experiencing it. Peter needed to walk away from his past even if that left his parents behind him. His mom wasn’t gasping for air anymore and his dad wasn’t screaming in pain, but this felt the same as it had then. When he was picked up and carried away fighting to go back. 

The elevator was too small and it felt like falling. There wasn’t enough air as they went down, down, down. They were going towards the ground way too fast and everything was too cold and- he wasn’t there. Peter is in New York and he’s leaving his past behind. It’d be easier to forget it, but that can’t happen. For now he’s in New York and he is not falling, things are controlled now. He isn’t controlling them but things are controlled and that has to be enough.

“Peter, do you want to talk about it?” 

That was Tony. Tony was there walking out of the building with him and he didn’t even notice. Someone was there for him and following him out into the streets and he is upset. This is going to be like Ben all over again. It was all too familiar. Peter is crying and too caught up in his head and he’s being followed by someone who cares again and he is in New York. Last time Peter had a gun held to him because he saw something he shouldn’t and Ben stepped in. Tony would do the same thing as Ben, Peter knows that. 

Planes don’t fall out of the sky often but it happened to Peter twice. Muggings happen often, Peter has seen his fair share. It could happen to him again. History repeats itself, everyone says that. This can happen again too, it could. All because of Dr. J- Clint. 

“You can’t let him kill you Mr. Stark. I can’t lose anyone else, I can’t watch anyone else die. You and May are all I have left.”

Breathe. He just needs to breathe and it’ll be okay. Peter knows this he just needs to get himself under control. One person should not have any control over him, his life, not like this.

“Alright kiddo. I’m staying right here, and you know May isn’t going anywhere either. We’ll stay by your side no matter what. So lets talk, tell me what isn’t official or don’t. Whatever you need right now.”

Peter nodded. He hated how the air was acid but he had to do this. He’s held it all in, every bad thing. He didn’t talk about things, never the bad things, those were made to be secrets. But it never felt good, it always ached, to keep it all inside. Peter never told May and Ben about his parents, all they knew was the official story. He had never told them about Skip, never talked about it more than what was necessary after May walked in. Never said anything about what happened to give him his powers. He didn’t tell May about watching Ben die. He never said anything to Tony or Happy about a building falling on him or crashing the plane on Coney Island. These memories, these trauma’s are not made to be shared, but he couldn’t hold in in anymore. 

His body wasn’t his own and Peter hated not being aware of his actions, pulled too far into the past to understand his movements, his surroundings. When Tony pulled Peter back inside and to the penthouse he hardly recognized his own motions. Sitting onto Tony’s couch helped Peter come back to himself, just the tiniest bit. 

For the first time ever Peter told someone the unofficial story. There was no talking about nothing. He tells Tony about what it was like to notice the smoke and the flames. He talks about being exposed in the sky and holding his mothers hand as they fall. He speaks about seeing his mom, hearing her and his dad. He explains what is was like to be carried away, fighting to be with them, knowing they’d die. Peter tells Tony about what it’s like in foster care, about being considered a flight risk because officially he ran away from his babysitter. 

Peter tells Tony everything.

And Tony listens. 

Peter thought he’d feel better. He never expected to feel like every problem is solved, but he thought he’d at least feel the tiniest bit better. This wasn’t better though.

Maybe it was a mistake.

These big, scary traumatic things were supposed to be kept to himself. They might have changed his life but they didn’t need to affect anyone else’s.

“This is the first time you’re telling anyone any of this?” Tony hand’s Peter hot chocolate as he asks this question, it feels like a stupid question to Peter, he wasn’t supposed to talk about it so why would he tell anyone. 

“I was told I couldn’t tell anyone about my parents. Dr. Josh, Clint, he sat me down and told me no one could actually know how my parents died, that it was our secret. He’d check in on me for a few years after to make sure May and Ben didn’t know. Clint told me that the big scary thing things that happen to a person aren’t made to be shared with others and that no one would believe me, so I didn’t tell anyone. I’m supposed to do what adults tell me, it’s not a big deal.”

Tony hummed, sipping his own drink. Peter didn’t like the way Tony looked at him, like a mystery that revealed itself. It was close to the look Peter gets when people find out his parents are dead and one of his guardians died too, but it wasn’t quiet it. Tony also held some level of anger in his eyes and Peter didn’t know who that was directed at.

“Peter you literally exploded when you saw Clint, that was a pretty big deal. Him telling you not to share the first big traumatic thing to happen to you is a pretty big deal too, especially because he told you that he was a doctor. It’s all big deal.”

Peter groaned. He should have had better control. It was already a bad day and his head was too clouded with the past. It was a mistake. A blip. Peter should have done better.

“FRIDAY, could you ask Clint Barton to come up here?” 

FRIDAY confirmed and Peter realized that this was another mistake. Why couldn’t he just stop himself? He wasn’t good at this. This was a mistake. Peter was raised to do what was right but he only made mistake after mistake. Everything he’s done was a mistake.

“What are you doing kid?”

Planes fall from the sky. Planes that hold Peter have fallen. They are world ending and Peter’s world has ended over and over. He blamed the person that Clint was pretending to be. Peter blamed a lie.

“He forgot me and then I told him he killed my parents and didn’t save my life.”

The elevator dinged out a final warning to what was coming before the doors opened. This time Peter was prepared to see the face of a man who haunted his life. Clint walked in and stayed standing away from Peter and Tony on the other side the coffee table. 

“Sorry for yelling at you. It was a bad day. I was taken off guard and said things without any thought.” 

Unrecognizable. Cold. Unattached. Empty. Peter’s voice didn’t sound nice, there was no personality. But it had been a long day. There was too many emotions all at once and Peter was tired, it was nearly too much today. All his thoughts and feelings were all too wrapped together, snaked around his heart and lungs. In his throat and into his jaw, squeezing too tight; a mess of what should be neat and organized.

“My mission was to protect you. I was assigned onto that plane and to your parents to make sure you were properly protected. Your parents were agents in the scientific division of SHIELD and were assigned to Oscorp to get intel. We had reason to believe that Oscorp was going to stage a kidnapping to experiment on you. My only job was to keep you safe and when that plane went down I had to get you out of the area before you were taken. SHIELD agents were with your parents by the time we got to safety. We didn’t tell you that you’re Dad’s spine was crushed or your Mom’s lungs were filled with blood, there was no saving them. Even if I helped them first they would not have survived, if I was a doctor it wouldn’t have made a difference. My mission was to protect you. I had to drop in after that every once in a while after that because Oscorp still had their eyes on you. I got reassigned when they stopped following you.”

Peter’s mind reeled. Hardly able to process the words being told. None of it made sense. It didn’t feel much like the truth. Peter still ended up at Oscorp and bad things still happened. 

“Well you failed then. You’re mission was a failure.” Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “Oscorp doesn’t give school’s tours, especially not high schools. But they gave my school a tour, but only my class. You did not succeed at your one job. I was there, got separated from my class. After that some Oscorp employees tended to show up where I was for a few months, offered me summer camp opportunities a few internships. I never took them especially not once I got this internship. But they never stopped. Oh, and I was friends with Harry Osborn, for years actually, went over to his house all the time until pretty recently.”

The spider bite. Peter always thought it was an accident. A coincidence. But now it was making sense. The lab assistant who gave him the wrong directions to the bathroom did that on purpose. He ended up in a room filled with spiders instead of a hallway he expected to lead to the washroom. Oscorp followed him to see if Peter had changed, not because they thought he did something bad or stole from them. It was their plan. Had he of taken the internship who knows what else would have happened. 

The mugging that killed Ben, that was probably Oscorp too. It would make sense. Especially if they were watching Peter. The gun was pointed at Peter first, meant to shoot him. Maybe they expected Peter to do something, confirm any theory they may have had about him. Instead Ben got in the way and died. And Peter didn’t do anything that day, or that week, not even that month. Oscorp stopped reaching out as much after that. They weren’t at his favourite places anymore and he got less mail from them. Every once in a while they still offered an internship to him, but it wasn’t a consistent thing like before. There wasn’t anything consistent.

“Clint, I think it’s time for you to leave.” That was Tony. Tony was nice. Tony helps. “Peter, buddy, you need to remember to breathe. C’mon Roo, I know that was a lot but breathe for me, please.”

He couldn’t do it. Everything about Peter was a lie. The man he blamed was a lie. The idea his parents could be alive was a lie. The reason Ben died was a lie. Everyone lied to him, his entire life, every traumatic experience came from a lie. Being Spider-Man came from a lie and working with Tony rooted from one too. There was no truth. He was never given the truth. 

Peter couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to. Nothing was true. How could he do anything real, or true? His life was a pile of lies stacked on top of each other in a way to control him and to manipulate. There’s no control here, this was a fall and every time there was something to grab onto it just disappeared. Nothing was real, it wasn’t real. Someone else pulled the strings on his life and now they’ve all been cut and there’s nothing holding him up anymore. 

Alone. He’s alone and he can’t do this. Just a kid who lost everyone on a lie. Peter never had a chance to control anything,  Everything was set up for him to react in certain ways, he had no choice, probably never did.

“Peter, buddy, c’mon, breathe for me. Don’t do this, you’re going to hurt yourself. I know this was a lot, but Roo, you’ll get through this, I know this was a lot, your whole life thrown at you in one go. I’m here with you.”

Focus on Tony. He needed to breathe, gain control here. But this was wrong, all of it was wrong. Peter had been through a lot but this was something else entirely. How can any expect him to get through this? 

“No. No, Mr. Stark. I can’t- I can’t do this. I’m not- it’s not- it’s a lie. I can’t do this.”

He was sobbing, face tomato red. Tears were streaming down his face, his body shook just like the plane that went down. He couldn’t calm down and he hated himself for it. Peter couldn’t control the way his thoughts always went to his biggest traumas, and now he couldn’t control the way he was reacted. Maybe none of this ever happened, and that’s just a lie too. There’s no proof that he isn’t dead or in a coma or even lost his mind. It’s all been a lie this far, it could be a lie past that.

Arms wrapped around Peter. They held him tight and he fought them at first trying to break free. He needed to be free of them, free of his thoughts. He only struggled for a few minutes before finally being able to relax, entire body going limp.

Everything was too much. It was too much.

And Peter was falling from the sky. Falling too fast and too hard into the rest of his life. There was no way to catch himself, not at these speeds. He was just a six year old with too much heartache. No Spider-Man there to catch him, no webs strong enough. Peter was falling from the sky and he couldn’t stop.

But Tony is there, and Tony will be there to catch Peter before he crashes.

-

Taglist (DM/Send an ask if you would like to be added):

@erinbeanie @jean-and-diet-coke @dead-inside-pt2 @they-were-cloudsinmycoffee @parkersjiggle @7peternotparker7 @thatonecrackheadshipper @kevinthewoman @faline4you @lynxshinon @narutoyaoifan @pastelwheeler

#irondad #peter parker #spiderson #tony stark #avengers #marvel #mcu #spiderman #iron man #hurt peter parker #whump peter parker #clint barton #steve rogers #natahsa romanoff #bruce banner #marvel cinematic universe #irondad and spiderson #peter and tony #sad peter parker

[unsaidmar]

WC: 2.5k (long winded girl, I know)

Plot: They share stuff and it changes how they see things. Connection ensues. 

CW: Mentions of death, illness, hospitals I guess, violence.

a/n: Hello y’all. This is part two of whatever the fuck is going on inside my pea brain. Hope you enjoy.

Part one, the meeting. 

Two; It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

She laughed at the awkwardness of the text and the perfect grammar Dr. Spencer Reid maintained while texting. Ollie made a mental note to care a little more about the phrasing of her own texts, especially considering the circumstances. To say she wanted to impress him was an understatement.

“Good, germs are yucky.” Sent at 7:45 am.

“Also, hi. Good morning” Sent at 7:45 am.

Good morning? Too much too soon? She fell victim to her overthinking for at least twenty minutes after sending her last text, realizing she had to slowly build up the courage to ask about the next time they would be seeing each other, which apparently would have to wait, since Spencer had an inconvenient schedule and could be out of the state in a matter of 20 minutes.  Ollie exhaled and stood up from her awful office chair to go and make herself some coffee, hoping to stop her mind from reeling and sending her into her usual never-ending pit of despair and anxiety that came with stepping out of her comfort zone.

A ping echoed in the room and her screen lit up, displaying a text from the one person she had been thinking about. Ollies mother would be crying laughing if she saw the state she was in, positively losing hair over the fact that a cute, smart, witty man was texting her back. A man she had spoken to for the first time not even 24 hours prior.

“I’m a nice person, I’m funny sometimes, I offered him coffee.” She whispered to herself, rationalizing every aspect of their interaction. “That’s how friendships start” She laughed bitterly. “I’m here… freaking… wishful thinking, and maybe he has a significant other… maybe he doesn’t even like women… maybe he just thought I was nice and he thought ‘yay, a new friend’… fuck” she plopped herself back on the chair and threw her head back.

Lia would have known what the right thing to do is, she would come up with a cool thing to text back on the spot, and she resented her absence like she had a million times before. Ollie had gotten used to writing her letters like her best friend was living somewhere else in the world and she would eventually read her friend’s attempt at keeping her updated, which she knew was not healthy and definitely not helping her move on.

The thing is, Lia’s death was not a surprise at all. It was a possibility to the point of actually being expected. She had been diagnosed as a terminal patient for a little over a year before she passed and almost everyone around her had made peace with the fact that she could go any day and that life would have to go on without her, but no amount of grief counseling and encouraging talks with Lia’s family could have prepared her for the unimaginable pain Ollie felt when it happened. She had heard about experiences that made the world turn upside down and how some life events made you go numb and make your legs give weight, but had never come face to face with a happenstance that painful.

She figured she was going to have to carry the burden of her loss till the day she died, and even then, the words “I missed you, till the very end.” would be carved in her grave.

Coming back from her spiral, she remembered how she fell down the rabbit hole in the first place. She took her phone with the intention of texting Spencer back and smiled at how stupid she had been to worry about seeing him again.

“Hey, arrest made successfully. Are you busy right now?” Sent at 7:57 am.

Sighing with relief, Ollie smiled and tried to sound casual with her reply as to not sound like seeing him again was the only thing she had been thinking about.

“I’m the boss, I can un-busy myself. Why? Were you charmed by my Keurig?” Sent at 8:00 am.

Spencer was not the kind to send sassy texts, or any text for that matter. This was completely new to him and he was determined to get it right, so he channeled the Derek Morgan that lived within him and prayed to whatever deity was looking out for him to make him sound cooler than he was feeling.

“I’m a sucker for coffee so, yes.” Sent at 8:05

 “I’m a sucker for you, apparently” Ollie nearly screamed at how quickly that came out of her mouth. “Fucking loser, dear God” She shook her head, scolding herself and whatever hamster was in charge of her brain and thought process.

“Mi oficina es tu oficina, then. I’ll be waiting.” Sent at 8:07

Twenty minutes later, he was there, coffee cup in his hands. After what felt like no time at all, they were four coffee cups deep into their conversation and had learned a lot more about each other. Turns out Spencer had a day off after they landed from an away case, he had a thing with germs, his favorite color was purple and his co-workers were more his family than just the people he happened to work with. He liked a bunch of sugar with his coffee and had an eidetic memory that was as much of a blessing as it was a curse.

He was impressed at how this girl was not what you would expect her to be, every aspect of her seemed to make no sense and at the same time, it made perfect sense. This purple haired girl had ADHD and a PhD in history, she was the oldest daughter of two of the most stubborn Mexican immigrants and had a sister that made even the most patient of humans go mad. She loved music, and was not ashamed to admit that her taste in music was far from sophisticated. “I am Taylor Swift’s bitch; I know the words to every single one of her songs! Same goes for One Direction too” She argued when Spencer said that it couldn’t be that bad.

A blaring ring halted their conversation to an unexpected stop. Ollie picked up the office phone with an annoyed grimace and exchanged a few words with whoever was calling.

“Hold that thought, I have to go sign a thingy at the front desk” She dashed out of her office and left Spencer there.

For the first time, he felt compelled to look around and fixate on the details. There were a few old looking pictures and some newer ones with people who looked a lot like her. There was one picture that caught his attention, isolated from the rest like it deserved a spot of its own. In it, there was a red-haired girl that looked around Ollie’s age, one of her arms around her waist and the other one cradling her head that was laying on her shoulder. Ollie’s eyes were closed and the red head looked like she was caught mid-sentence. Stuck to the frame was a little post it note that read “I love you, head ass. -Lia” It looked intimate, they were clearly comfortable with that kind of physical affection, and if Lia hadn’t called Ollie a head ass in the post it, he would have assumed they were together romantically.

Ollie came back in a hurry, apologizing for having to run out like that and sitting back down to resume their conversation.

“It’s okay, don’t worry” Spencer assured her. “I was looking at your pictures, I hope you don’t mind” He said, suddenly very aware of how invasive that could be.

“Not at all, those are there to be looked at” She shrugged, bracing herself for the question she knew was coming. Somehow, talking about Lia with him did not feel as dreadful as it had all those times she was asked about it before, perhaps it’s just him and his calming presence.

Sure enough, he pointed at the picture Lia had framed for valentine’s day and asked, “Who’s that?”.

“That’s Lia, she was my best friend. She is my best friend.” She smiled fondly, something that had never happened before when talking about this specific topic. Maybe sharing Lia’s memory with someone who didn’t know her was different. “She passed away almost a year and a half ago. 468 days ago, to be exact. She was really sick, it was inevitable” Ollie let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, reaching for the post it and tracing the words over with her finger.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been”

“It was… heartbreaking. Even with all that time we had to process the news, it still took me off guard.” She shook her head trying to ground herself. “Anyways, that’s a sad topic. I don’t want to bum you out with it.”

He knew the feeling all too well, he had apologized to several people when he rambled about Maeve, feeling like he had said too much and gotten too personal. He was not about to let this beautiful, vibrant soul feel the way he had for so long. Like he still did, truly.

“Don’t apologize, I get it. You’re not making me sad” He felt like he needed to elaborate to actually convey the message. “I went through the same thing with someone I loved too” he said, looking down at his hands, the very familiar feeling of oversharing creeping in. As he looked up, he noticed the sad look Ollie was giving him, but if the profiler in him was right, she was inviting him to share, not to stop.

“Her name was Maeve. She… she was a geneticist. She helped me through a rough time and she became my friend. It’s a long story…” he looked away.

“I want to hear it, long or not. But only if you want me to.” She gave him the warmest smile she could muster, which convinced him to keep going.

“Um, I started getting some headaches a while ago. I went to a few doctors but none of them gave me an answer. I reached out to Maeve for help and… We bonded, I guess.” He took a shaky breath.

“You don’t have to continue if you feel uncomfortable” she whispered in the most delicate tone.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’ve never told this story before. Everyone in my life that I care about was there to see it.” He said, meeting her eyes so she could see how honest he was being. The man got a hold of himself for a minute, and continued.

“Maeve had to go into hiding. She was being stalked by some woman she met at work. Beyond talking on the phone, we hadn’t even met. I had no idea what she looked like and vice versa. This girl, the stalker… She wrote a paper, and Maeve dismissed it because it didn’t have a good enough foundation. When she started stalking her, she scared her into hiding and eventually started dating her ex-fiancé to try and get closer to Maeve, assuming he knew where she was. They ended up finding her and confronting her. She shot herself and the first person I ever loved. Right in front of me and my friends. The first five minutes I got with Maeve face to face, were the last.”

Baring his soul to a person he had known for a whooping 18 hours was the weirdest thing Spencer had ever done, so unlike himself it was almost funny. But at the same time, he felt like it had to happen. By no means did he believe in fate or destiny, but this one moment made him feel like maybe whoever does believe in that stuff, is not completely wrong.

She was not a therapist. She listened because she was going through a similar thing herself and her interest in Spencer’s loss was not rooted in psychoanalyzing him and helping him cope. She was just a mundane human that did not look at him with condescension and pity, she looked at him like she, too, had found a person who wouldn’t ask her “And, how does that make you feel?” in a monotonous voice. They both knew better than to assume they had all the answers.

“Spencer, that’s horrible. I am so sorry you had to see that. Jesus, fuck. I- “She thought about her next words very carefully. “That’s enough to crush anyone’s spirit” She looked at him like he was turning green. The reason being, he did not look like he was crushed. He had a beautiful smile that shook Ollie to her core, he was easygoing and conversation with him was carefree and it flowed easily. If he had not told her about Maeve, she would not have guessed the man sitting right in front of her was as affected as her.

“How did you manage to get through that?” Ollie questioned, fully intending to take notes.

“I don’t really think I have yet…” Well, time to come clean. Spencer thought. “The whole reason I was here yesterday, and a lot more times before that one, is because she and I talked about this museum. She told me about some conferences she had attended here and we made plans to visit together. Doesn’t quite sound like someone who’s over the whole thing.” He fiddled with his fingers, suddenly too aware of how cold it was. “How did you get through Lia’s death?”

“Yeah, well. I don’t really think I’m quite there either. Not like I’m trying, anyways. I can’t seem to get away from the Grey Roots either” Mental images of two little kids running around with dusty books in their hands came to her and she couldn’t help the small smile she broke into.

“I’m a hopeless romantic at heart, I have always thought that the way Lia and I found each other was pure magic. We met when we were in the second grade, right in this museum, we were on a field trip and we clicked. It was crazy to me that I actually met my best friend at such a young age, and the kind that lasts forever too. It sounds like when people meet the love of their lives on their first try. It sounds dorky, I know”

“It doesn’t. If anything, it sounds like you consider yourself lucky to have loved her like you did. We need more people like that, people that believe in magic.” Spencer reassured her with a shrug. He wished he could believe in cute stuff like that, but he was happy Ollie led a life that made her believe.

“Yeah, but us crazy people, we get our hopes up too easily. Sometimes it hurts.”

“Tell me about it.”

And just like that, in the not so well-lit office of the head Conservator of the Grey Roots Museum and Archive, something in the world had shifted.

#spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x latina reader #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds #bau #fluff #spencer reid headcanon

[adiwriting]

Sunday Mornings 4/?

Notes: While this is the 4th ficlet in this verse, it’s technically the first thing I wrote for this verse. I was working to fill a prompt “watching them sleep” and it got away from me like most things. So I’m excited to finally get to post this part. It’s my personal favorite so far, so I hope you all enjoy! <3

Now on AO3

Week 4: 

The feeling of the sun warming his face slowly pulls Alex out of a blissful dream. Not quite ready to move his body yet, he turns his head to the nightstand and opens his eyes. It’s 5:55am. He’s tired, sure, but years in the military have taught him that attempting to go back to sleep now is futile. His body is wired to be up between 0500 and 0600 everyday, no matter how little sleep he got the night before. 

He yawns and turns his head to look at the source of his exhaustion. He can’t help but smile at the sight of his boyfriend. Michael spent the night last night, as he has most nights since they got back together a month ago. In fact, the only reason Michael isn’t in his bed every night can really only boil down to a stupid comment Maria had made about them moving in together. Michael still feels enough guilt over their breakup to have insisted that they are most certainly not living together. Alex would be mad at him for the entire thing, but he can’t bring himself to be. One, he too still feels how awkward things are with Maria and he loves her enough to want to be sensitive, even if she hadn’t always been sensitive towards him. And two… Michael can say he’s not living here all he wants, but the evidence speaks for itself. 

Michael’s black cowboy hat is hung on the hook on the door, where Alex used to hang his favorite Air Force hoodie. The same hoodie that now permanently rests on the back of the couch because Michael always wears it like a blanket when they watch movies together. There is an ever growing pile of change accumulating on the dresser from where Michael regularly empties his pockets when he comes in to change out of his jeans. Next to Alex’s bottles of lotions and various meds is a bottle of warming gel that Michael uses whenever his hand acts up. Hanging up in the closet are several of Michael’s clothes that Alex put there when he’d pulled his laundry out the other day and realized that half of the clothes were Michael’s rather than his own. Over by the full length mirror is a pile of the only 3 pairs of shoes that Michael owns. 

No. Michael doesn't live here. His things have just been slowly taking over Alex’s space… And Alex loves it. 

He bought this house last year and fell in love with its character, but it hadn’t really started to feel like home to him until the day there were two toothbrushes by the sink instead of one. 

Alex stretches carefully and tries not to groan at the way his shoulders pop. His body is particularly achy today, which he equates to a combination of lack of sleep and the enthusiasm that they’d gone at it last night. He’s going to have to talk Michael into a massage later.

Once his body is decently stretched out — or at least as stretched out as it can be without waking Michael — Alex rolls over onto his side to watch his boyfriend properly. 

Michael is always beautiful. It’s a fact. But the truth is, there’s something particularly entrancing about the way the morning sun hits Michael’s tanned skin. Alex allows himself to stare in a way he can’t get away with when Michael is awake. Not without Michael teasing him for it. 

He starts with his hair. Frizzy and all over the place. A combination of Alex’s hands constantly threading through and pulling whenever they have sex and the fact that Michael moves when he sleeps. A lot. The sun makes his hair glow like a halo, which is all too fitting. He reaches out and gently pulls a curl away from Michael’s face so that he can focus his attention there next. 

Alex watches the quick, constant movement of Michael’s eyes underneath his lids. He’s always thinking. Calculating. Planning. Inventing. When they were kids, Michael told him that his head was constant chaos that only music could quiet. Knowing what he knows about Michael’s past, he can see why Michael had chosen that word. But chaos doesn’t describe Michael’s brain. Not anymore. He’s just brilliant. He’s wicked smart and never stops thinking. Michael processes information at an inhuman rate, which Alex would equate to his alien DNA if he didn’t know that neither Max or Isobel share in his genius level intellect. 

It’s not rare for Michael to wake up in the middle of the night having somehow solved some complicated problem in his sleep. It’s why Alex had started to keep a journal on Michael’s side of the bed, so that he won’t have to get up at 3am and tear the house apart looking for paper so he could write down whatever complex equation he’s just solved. 

Alex runs his fingers across Michael’s forehead gently. He loves that brain. He firmly believes that Michael could solve the world’s biggest problems if he tried. And though Alex won’t risk the fight by bringing it up, he seriously hopes that Michael gets his degree one day so that the world can benefit from his genius. Roswell is too small for a brain like Michael’s. 

Alex traces the line of his nose and bites back a giggle when Michael scrunches it up in response. He’s so adorable at times that Alex truly marvels that anyone can honestly believe his tough guy act. Michael is so soft and tender with Alex. Even when they weren’t together and every other word out of Michael’s mouth was a sarcastic dig meant to goad Alex into a fight, Alex had always been able to see the vulnerability in Michael’s eyes. It was part of what sent Alex running so often. He always had a genuine fear of breaking and in turn, getting broken. 

His palm moves to cradle Michael’s cheek and Michael’s head leans into the touch, turning his head to kiss his palm. Even in sleep, Michael is constantly seeking him out. It’s moments like this that make Alex question how he ever felt insecure about Michael’s feelings. Maybe if he had just trusted in their love earlier… 

“Stop. Sleep,” Michael grumbles, seemingly cutting off his anxiety spiral before it could even start. 

“I’m not tired,” he teases, but Michael is silent, having already fallen back asleep. 

Alex’s hand drifts down to Michael’s neck and he cringes when he notices a bruise to the right of his collarbone that wasn’t there yesterday. Alex has always been incredibly careful about hickeys. He’d had to be. And by the time he’d felt safe enough to risk it, he was at an age where it was no longer socially acceptable. Thankfully, this one should be mostly hidden once Michael puts on a shirt, so hopefully he won’t be too annoyed with Alex. 

His hand travels down Michael’s chest. He stares at the dark hair, one of the most noticeable changes from when they were seventeen. Alex hasn’t been with a lot of men, but virtually all of the ones he’s been with manscape. Which is fine. It’s understandable. It’s not like anybody wants to worry about hair in their mouth when they are kissing their way down someone’s chest. But damn, there’s something about the dark hair on Michael’s tanned chest that always gets him going. 

It’s unfair really, because it means that Alex is pretty much always turned on whenever Michael is shirtless. Which is all of the time. The man has some kind of personal problem with wearing shirts. 

He drags his index finger through the darker patch of hair on his stomach and he feels Michael’s muscles tense under his touch. Before Alex’s hand can dip under the sheet currently protecting Michael’s modesty, the man grumbles something incoherent and rolls over onto his stomach, snuggling into Alex’s side. 

Alex sinks back into the pillow, his one arm pinned under Michael’s head. He moves his free hand up to play with Michael’s hair. Michael hums in content, but doesn’t say anything more or do anything to signal that he’s truly awake. Alex closes his eyes and tries to relax. While he isn’t likely to fall back asleep, that doesn’t mean he isn’t content to lay here for hours while his boyfriend does. This is the kind of stuff Sunday mornings are made for. 

Isn’t this what Maroon 5 was getting at? Cause, yeah. Alex never wants to leave. 

He buries his nose in Michael’s hair and breathes in deep, taking in the smell of rain and dollar store shampoo that is uniquely Michael. It smells like love and safety. Like home. 

God, twelve years of loving this man and Alex didn’t think it was possible for that love to continue to crow. Each day he’s proven wrong. See, he’s starting to learn that these small moments together… the quiet unassuming moments… They are a thousand times more powerful than the big, dramatic moments that rom coms are made of. Because right here? At this moment? All he can think about is the ending of the stupid Grinch movie when his heart grows three times in size. 

That’s how Michael makes him feel. Like his heart is constantly growing, aching with joy but always wonderfully welcome. Waking up next to Michael in the morning is one of those painfully sweet moments that pull at his heart. And maybe it won’t always feel like this. He hopes it does. He doesn’t want to get used to this, because he doesn’t ever want to stop realizing how lucky they are that they managed to come together after twelve years of will they won't they. Alex hopes he appreciates the magic of waking up next to Michael because he never wants to grow complacent in this relationship. 

“You’re being creepy again, and it’s too early,” Michael grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes. Instead he throws his leg over Alex’s hip in an attempt to snuggle even closer. 

Alex rolls his eyes at the argument they have most mornings. “Why is it creepy?” 

“Because you’re studying me like you’re plotting the best ways to murder me in my sleep.” 

Alex laughs at that, shaking Michael who reaches out to pinch him in his side and demands he stop so that he can rest. 

“No murder today,” he promises, kissing the top of his head. 

Michael’s hand moves up to rest at his heart and Alex reaches out to grab at his wrist to keep his hand in place. “I love you.”

Michael does open his eyes for that. Alex meets his gaze and the only way he can describe the way Michael is staring at him is fond. 

“I love you, too,” Michael says, lifting his head just long enough to kiss Alex. “Go back to bed.”

“We’re already in bed,” Alex teases, earning him another groan. 

“Go back to sleep. And get better dad jokes before we have a kid, please.” 

Michael bringing up a kid is enough to stop any teasing that Alex would have likely continued with. Though his stupid boyfriend clearly doesn’t realize the gravity of what he’s just said, because he’s already fallen back asleep. Alex can tell he’s not just faking it either because he’s lightly snoring in that way that Alex really shouldn’t find adorable but does. 

Dad. Him. 

It’s an interesting thought. One he honestly hadn’t considered. The thought of bringing another Manes into this world is frankly terrifying. Alex would be satisfied if the family name died out with him and his brothers. But thinking of having a child with Michael? A little Guerin baby? 

Yeah, that thought gives him plenty to think about for the next two hours while Michael sleeps. 

Tagged: @callieramics​​

As always if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!

#roswell nm #roswell new mexico #Malex fic #malex #fic: sunday mornings #alex manes #michael guerin #fluff #domestic bliss

[idio-cies]

Unpopular opinion or not...

I have a feeling that people are going to be so annoyed with Tine and the narrative 2gether has taken where Tine still doesn’t fully trust Sarawat. 

I must admit watching this episode, I was a little sad that Tine didn’t have more faith in Sarawat after everything thus far. I understand that Tine is a character who is easily hurt and he evidently has some kind of anxiety and self-image problems and that is what makes it difficult, but honestly? Who hurt him? What happened to make him this deeply wounded so easily?

This response is so ingrained in how he functions it has to be more than just being rejected. Type acts the same kind of way, with having a self-image problem and strives to be a perfectionist, which I think is a factor in why he didn’t leave with Man at the end of the day. He was scared about his image. The theme of planning for the future and all other scenes with Type alone (and with Man) are all about perfectionism.

But I’m pretty sure it was also for Man’s sake, as he was trying to stand up for him at the end of the meal and other indications of just having some respect for Man’s kindness etc. And didn’t want a fight to start out. 

1. This is not a face of pleasure from Tine towards that boss

2. These next lines and actions indicate that he was trying to prevent a fight from happening and the best thing would be to go with that boss, in order to protect Man, even if he didn’t like it.

Anyway, I get “Oh similarity of brother’s thing” because my sisters and I both have the same problem of self-image and self-love problems which can be seen in both my mum and and my dad as well. I get it, which is why I believe this to be more mental health oriented than it just being a simple character trait. 

So the reason why Tine is the way he is, is more than rejection and not being able to find the right love; he also has the kind of brain that blows things out of proportion, finds it hard to have comfort and everything in between. So before people start to say “Oh, I don’t understand why Tine isn’t over this” sort of thing. I understand that this is annoying, but I also understand why Tine is the way he is. 

To add. If Tine is anything like me. I listen and believe what people say for a matter of minutes, hours if I’m lucky (sometimes it’s not at all) before I start spiralling again in self-doubt. Tine has the added indication of what this song could mean (love), which he believes that it is the one Sarawat has been writing for Pam. Then we have the scene that has been said in ep 3 (hence the flashbacks)

I understand where he is coming from, and his actions. I really want no hate to come of this because it really does seem that Tine has anxiety problems. I personally, have never believed anyone has ever been genuine to me in my entire life, or had the ability to change my mind about myself. It is annoying, believe me from and outsider (helping friends and family believe in themselves) and inside I know this. My mum has gone through her life having self-doubt and even though my dad alleviates those negative feelings, she still has it quite strongly. It is something I don’t believe you can get rid of. 

This is why I believe he has anxiety. This is so deep within him, and for me it makes things more believable. Sure, it sucks, sure this is more drama that frankly is not wanted, but it’s so understandable that I’m caught in the middle.

Also can we just take a moment to fully appreciate Win’s fucking amazing acting?? Like, the pain I felt when he put his hand on his hard as he cried like that. God damn, that was amazing!

It killed me.

Please be kind. I welcome discussion though ^-^

#2gether #2gether the series #sarawatine #Tine #Mantype #type

[eunsoyi]

congrats on 100! #3 + hinata if you don’t mind

prompt list here and requests are still very much open!

#3 from prompt list with hinata shoyo (trigger warning: depression, mental illness, mentions of suicide)

think

hinata shoyo doesn’t think.

no, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t use his brain. he’s bad at studying, sure, but that’s another conversation for another time. shoyo doesn’t think about the things around him. some might call him a simpleton or an airhead, but he knows he wasn’t like that. he’d rather call it a defense mechanism.

he doesn’t think about losing, especially in his school life wherein he devoted all his hours in volleyball training. he doesn’t think about his family getting mad at him for not taking care of his health because he knows pushing himself to the limit is going to benefit him one day. he doesn’t think about his friends leaving his side because he is well-aware that they all have their own paths to walk on.

he tried not to think. he tried to alleviate the pain from thinking too much. he could try and try until his life ended, but his gears simply started to turn whenever it came to you.

no, he wasn’t in love with you. that mere thought of being in a romantic relationship with you felt uncomfortable. after all, you were a sister figure to him, just like natsu. but he hated seeing you like this. so broken, so fragile, it was as if you were on the brink of your limit.

you and shoyo had been best friends since god knows when. he just knew that from the moment the two of you were born, you’d be inseparable. you were like two peas in a pod: bright, ambitious, optimistic.

where did it all go wrong?

it had been seven weeks since you last showed up to school. seven weeks since he last saw your face. seven weeks since he last heard your voice. he attempted to know what was happening with you, but your mother insisted that he should not bother.

“it’s too much.” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “please, just go home and pray for her.” shoyo didn’t listen. he visited your house everyday after practice, desperately trying to get a glimpse of you. he’d bring over your favorite snacks, asking your mother to at least bring it to you for you to enjoy. then, finally, your mother gave in.

she led him upstairs to your room, and he felt a strange aura as he walked towards it. everything felt dark, grim, and heavy. her mother took a deep breath before opening your bedroom door. “i just want to say, shoyo, i’m very very sorry.”

“wha-what do you mean?” he stuttered. your mother didn’t answer and proceeded to finally open the door. what he saw next made his heart drop to the depths of the earth.

your room was dark, lights weren’t opened, the blinds were closed. clothes were sprawled everywhere on the floor. the food he was bringing you everyday was still inside the classic opaque plastic bags, untouched and rotting. you were curled up in a fetus position, blanket over your whole body.

“what.. what’s going on?” he managed to speak out.

“y/n, sweetie, shoyo’s here.” your mother didn’t answer shoyo and instead called your attention. you shuffled slightly, but gave no response. your mother sighed and closed the door.

“let’s talk downstairs.”

she led him to the dining area, gave him a cup of tea and sat down adjacent from him. “you see, y/n’s sick.”

“sick how?” he asked.

“she..” your mother sighed once more, pausing to think. “she feels there’s no hope for her in this world.” her voice cracked, tears started to fall down on her face.

“what do you mean?” shoyo asked, getting impatient.

“it started last year. it’s like she’s a different person. she doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep, her grades were dropping.” she sniffed, sipping on her tea. “i asked her what’s wrong, she didn’t answer. instead, y/n told me that she doesn’t want to live anymore.”

your mother then continued to explain that she brought you to a psychiatrist in order to at least cure you from whatever you were feeling. she then told shoyo you were diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety disorder, and that information alone caused you to spiral. you didn’t want to believe you were sick.

shoyo went back home with a lot more on his mind than he wanted. he understood why your mother acted the way she did. shoyo wasn’t educated enough about the concepts of mental health and mental illnesses, but he knew things. at least, that’s what he believed in. he remembered the day your father died. tons of people from your neighborhood had visited to pay their respects and to say their condolences to the family he left behind. he saw you sitting at the front row, gazing at the casket that was lying there in front of you. he angled his neck to see if you were crying, and to his shock, you weren’t.

“i don’t know who to blame.” you said, sipping on your orange juice. shoyo had offered to walk with you outside of the memorial for fresh air to which you happily obliged.

“you don’t need someone to blame.” he responded, cracking open a can of soda.

“perhaps.” you smiled sadly. “but it makes it easier if i had one.”

shoyo stayed silent while you continued talking.

“i was the first one to see dad’s body.” your voice quaked slightly. “we just got home from school, i walked into his room, and he’s just there. not moving.”

you stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “you know what, i do have something to blame.”

shoyo snapped his head towards your direction. “who?”

“i blame dad’s brain. if he stopped thinking, he’d be alive.”

shoyo tried to muster out a reply, but ultimately failed. you giggled and brushed the topic off and offered to play some volleyball with him back home and he said yes.

you didn’t cry during the funeral. you didn’t cry after the funeral. life went on normally.

shoyo had forced you to enroll in karasuno high school with him, much to your dismay. you really wanted to get out of miyagi and go somewhere far away, but he wouldn’t let you. not in a million years, no. “you promised we’d be together, forever.” he whined, causing you to say yes reluctantly.

shoyo adjusted just fine in his new high school. he gained friends at a terrifying speed. he became popular and was known as the new little giant by his friends and his teammates. you, on the other hand, stayed alone. when shoyo noticed this, he tried to talk to you about it.

“go out and meet new people, y/n! karasuno students are very nice!” he exclaimed.

“yeah, no.” you responded nonchalantly.

despite his busy schedule (mostly volleyball, eating, and socializing), he always swung by your house to hang out. you did attempt to throw him out multiple times because he was disrupting your study session, but he stayed nonetheless, enjoying your annoyed reaction. everything seemed normal, seemed happy, seemed bright. shoyo continued to flow naturally, accepting everything that came his way. from game losses to injuries to failed exams, he lived life.

he liked living life because you were mostly there to help him out, even if it was against your will. you helped him study for his make-up exams, you lent an ear whenever he was rambling on and on about how annoying and stuck-up kageyama and tsukishima were, you went to his games, you were there when they lost to aoba johsai. he liked living life with you by his side.

shoyo whipped out his phone when he got home and called your number. it rang a few times before it stopped, meaning you had cancelled his call. he wasn’t going to give up then and there, since he has attempted to call you for seven weeks now. during his fifth try, you finally answered.

“what?” you said in a hoarse voice. shoyo felt a lump form in his throat.

“i.. i..” he struggled to find the words to say.

“i heard you come in earlier.” you said, the hoarse voice gradually going away.

“i did. sorry.”

you let out a soft yet sad chuckle. “it’s fine.” the two of you stayed silent for a couple of seconds. shoyo felt his eyes sting. he hated seeing, hearing, feeling you like this. he felt guilty. where was he when you were going through such a hard time? was he even worthy to be called your friend? how come he didn’t notice? why didn’t he try and notice? millions of questions rushed through shoyo’s head.

“shoyo, stop thinking.” you suddenly said. shoyo’s train of thoughts halted, tears falling down his face. “w-what?”

“i can hear you thinking right now.” you replied in a quiet voice. “don’t do it.”

“yeah.” he laughed, which sounded more like a sob. “yeah, i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry.”

you sighed. “it’s not your fault.”

“but i should’ve known! i should’ve tried and become a good friend and ask you what’s wrong. i should’ve tried harder-“

“everything’s fine, shoyo.” you hushed him. “sometimes, it hits you like a truck. i was shocked as well, you know.”

shoyo choked back a sob.

“i’ll be fine. i’m going to try.” you said. he felt your smile against the phone as he tried to hold back his cries once more. “thank you for being by my side, shoyo.”

#hinata #hinata shoyo #hinata headcanons #hinata scenarios #hinata hcs #hinata x reader #hinata angst #hinata fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #hq #hq x reader #hq headcanons #hq hcs #hq scenarios #hq fluff #hq angst