#((I get to project all my fatigue and ‘‘done with this shit’’ energy onto him lol))

[studiojeon]

troubled outsiders | intro - jjk

| summary | -  how you two end up pining for each other.

warnings: none :) 

content: idol!jungkook x student!oc, friends to lovers (because it’s THE superior trope okurrrt), jungkook is quiet and shy but a social butterfly when needed (and when it comes to oc but you’re not supposed to know that yet), oc is both a badass and a socially akward queen, she has TWO friends and only because one is dating the other (like... same), the Lee Charyeong is her bestie, oc works at bighit and feels like everyone either fears her or hates her, author nim is a crackhead and has no plot planned for this series whatsoever (doesn’t know if she’ll keep this up, we’ll see).

words: 1.93 k

His presence was overwhelming, to say the least. Even if he were surrounded by six hundred other equally handsome men, somehow, to you (and the majority of the female population, at that point) he was as captivating and magnetic as they come. Jeon Jungkook didn't pay no mind to no one, but sure as hell everyone became hyper aware of his existence and essence in time. And that didn’t exclude you.

Yet, as nonchalant and indifferent as the man could be perceived, in reality he was more considerate and friendly than the aura he exuded. You knew this because working in the same company had to teach a thing or two about the people who literally carried said company and the whole industry at some point, still you barely knew four or three people, including your assistant and Jungkook, whom you had met once.

The opportunity of working at the company had come to you out of the blue, quite literally, you were attempting to send one of your assignments in when an email appeared in your notifications during your sailor moon study break. 

HYBE Entertainment

We’re glad to inform you that you’re being recruited for the position of Logistics Manager in one of our sub companies, BIGHIT Entertainment. We’ve thoroughly looked through the CV you’ve submitted and are very interested in your capabilities and what you can contribute to our organization. One of our other managers will gladly meet you on a day you can both agree on. Make sure to answer this email to get more details about your interview.

“Nani!? THE FUCK?” sure as hell that your eyes and cognitive functions were deceiving you (ADHD) you went over the text a little over three times in a row before the message settled in your mind. This was sus. 

Before even considering a reply you made a quick call. “Fucking Lee Chaeryeong” you spat on your end of the line. “You did this, didn’t you?”.

Her silence was more than enough to have you cursing her under your breath. “I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about but it most likely was me. Does it have to do with a sex toy in particular?”

“No” you denied almost monotonously, guessing the pile of boxes in the corner of your room with her names on them was what she referred to. “Does anything come to mind if i mention BIGHIT FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT?”

It was her. All those conversations during the summer about how badly you wanted to work in the entertainment business as marketing staff of some sort had their effect on your friend, who, despite all your excuses and denials, knew you better than you and your mom combined did, and because of this, was sure as hell you were not making a move towards that goal whatsoever. So, being the boss bitch she was, she took matters into her own hands, was what she explained.

You concluded that was the reason you had reached a point in your life where you had more experience than most recently graduated kids in your field, because Chaeryeong had you moving every summer break. You had been the manager of a coffee franchise and convenience store during you junior and senior years, and also figured a way to improve the marketing management strategy of a fucking restaurant while at it. Not to toot your own horn, but you were kind of cool.

Or not. “I hope this job satisfies your workaholic ass for once, I’m running out of ideas”. Chaeryeong spat before hanging up.

Sure as hell it would. 

On friday afternoon, you made your way to the HYBE INSIGHT building and introduced yourself to your recruiters who promised to give you a call at some point. “It went fine” you told Chaeryeong once you were in your car. And it was the truth, however you weren’t so sure if they would actually hire you at some point since well, you were a girl in a male dominated industry and, in your opinion, there were always better people than you. “Wanna go grab coffee?”

“I want to. But, I have practice today. I’m actually on my way there. Please avoid driving through Hongdae today, this shit’s packed.” You sighed and thanked her for the heads up. You missed your friend, badly. You hadn’t seen each other in three weeks, and you didn’t even live so far away from each other (you did, but it had been worse before). You two had very agitated lives to say the least. Chaeryeong was a kpop group member, and well, you were jumping from job to job and getting your phD in Business Management at the same time. It was hard to find moments to spare together during some periods of the year, but you guess the anticipation made your encounters better.

“Talk about anticipation” you slammed your forehead against your desk, taking a breather after such an anxiety packed situation. Short story: you got the job (for some fucking reason). And you had gone through a whole week of expectancy and anguish. Not getting that job would have broken your heart, and ego at the same time. 

You guessed the law of attraction tactics Chaeryeong had taught you had sorted their effect and were what led you to your current position in life.

“Miss _____, your presentation’s ready” your work assistant gave you a comforting pat in the back as she took a seat somewhere next to you. You were nervous, shitless. It was your fifth week at the job, and being the proactive woman you were, you had collected lots of data in order to come up with a resources management plan.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and more than a hundred people sat in front of you, waiting for your speech. Including him, who you’d once bumped into accidentally during one of your data recollections runs inside the building. 

You hated having the need to impress others yet, hence your anxious behaviour. But this was a decisive moment in regards to your validation in your new job and how you’d continue to be perceived during your work stance (no reason to panic at all)… you needed to get it together.

“I think I just pissed off a bunch of old men right now,” you told your assistant right after you got off stage. “I need a bathroom break”. Linh gave you a reassuring smile, one she always had plastered on her face.

“Take as long as you need to. I’ll give you a call once the rest are done”.

The commute to the bathroom was unnecessarily complicated in your opinion. You had spent a little over a month rushing through the hallways of the building and you swore every single day your spatial orientation got a bit more fucked up. There was no way there wasn’t a single bathroom on the floor you were in, that would just be atrocious. “It’s not completed yet” someone said beside you as you stared at the half empty map the company had projected on a wall next to the elevators. “Where do you need to go?” 

Kim Taehyung of all people in the world was talking to your ugly and unworthy ass. Your breath caught in your throat and after staring for at least five seconds your body finally reacted to your orders. “Oh, um… the bathroom. I’ve been looking for it for a good ten minutes” you explained with a nervous laugh.

“Trust me, I get it. I still get lost over here” he smiled gently. “It’s in the hallway in the middle of the next hallway” 

You laughed at his very ambiguous explanation. “Thank you” you bowed your head and made your way to said destination.

It was in the hallway to your left, not your right, and it took you a while to figure out that new piece of information. Once you were staring at yourself in the mirror, you realized that you looked considerably tired and exhausted from all the social interaction you had undergone throughout the day. You were used to the side stares and whispering you’d get whenever you entered a room at that point, but some days you just wished you could get a break from them. After all, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look Korean at all, and that you also didn’t fit the stereotype of a foreigner.

You got that from your mom, both the non Korean features and social fatigue. But that wasn’t even the problem most of the time, it was your friendly and smart nature which she had also passed onto you. Some would consider it a blessing, but to you it was a burden, like a clear glass that shielded you from introducing yourself into other people’s realities. You had few friends and people to trust, but in your everyday life you had to deal with the pressure of standing out too much and that came with a lot of negative energy from others. You sigh as you spray your favorite fragrance on yourself. You could be feeling like shit, but no one will ever catch you slipping.

But that excluded him apparently. You hadn’t noticed that on the other side of the hallway was the men’s bathroom and the realization hit you as you were calmly getting some tea from the vending machine. “Good afternoon” the man greeted you as he made his way out the hallway, but stopped in his tracks right after he noticed you. “_____! Hi” he smiled at you and you wanted to die, suddenly forgetting what you were ordering in the first place.

“H-hi Jungkook” You smiled back, poorly attempting to put your wallet back into your backpack. 

“Need help there?” he noticed your agitated state and held your bag for you. He smelled just as heavenly as you had expected, somewhat between big dick energy and flowers. Oh, and he also remained as kind and polite as you remembered him.

Seeming as if he wasn’t planning on continuing his path to wherever he was heading to in the first place, he stood quietly by your side, waiting for you to be done with your deal. “How have you been?” you break the ice for him.

Quickly, you grab your tea and start walking back to the auditorium together, unaware of your surroundings or the suspicions that could arise. “Busy, but very good. How have you been? I saw your presentation earlier… I wish I understood half of what you said but you still sounded amazing”.

And you would never admit it out loud, but you were positive you were blushing (and falling in love too - platonically, of course). “Oh god, you think so? I basically told them they’ve been doing things wrong all along so maybe you’re the only one who’s appreciative of my work” you handed him the second can of iced tea you bought without him noticing. You swear his eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. “Payback for the other day” you smile at him.

The first time you two had crossed paths you didn’t look nearly as glamorous as you did now. In fact, you looked incredibly disturbed and in pain, carrying a huge pile of paperwork in your hands. But as soon as sweet Jungkook noticed your state, he offered you a hand and somehow ended up helping through your multiple data collecting trips that afternoon. It was a nice day.

“Anytime” he took the can in his hands with a shy look on his face. “Unless I’m practicing, you know…” you look down at his feet, with huge black boots engulfing them, and you smile due to their contrast with his personality. “Here, i’ll give you my number so you can call me whenever you need to put all those papers back. Hopefully I’ll be around” he added as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Way to get a girl’s number, my god.

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x  Reader (Pt. 3)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~2.5k words)

Warnings: again poor communication!!! angst, no sex in this chapter

A/N: Let me know what you think!

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

“Oi, you fucking bastard, you knew!”

Iwa losing his temper over the phone wasn’t exactly atypical, even if it had become a less frequent occurrence, but for once Oikawa was actually genuinely surprised to hear his friend this angry over the phone. Especially given that it was almost 2pm in San Juan, which made it the very early AM in Tokyo, so whatever had worked him up had also kept him up way past his bedtime, given that Iwa was now extremely careful about his sleep hygiene. 

Oikawa took enough time to properly swallow the bite he’d just taken of his choripan before answering.

“What did I know, Iwa-chan?” He finally inquired, setting down his sandwich in the wrapper spread across his lap before leaning back into the park bench on which he was sitting. It was a wonderful sunny day, the type of day where it was a shame you were being yelled at, he mused briefly.

“About ___ and Ushijima.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows furrowed, not that Iwa could see the confusion on his face. There was a short pause which Oikawa broke eventually.

“Am I missing something or…?” His genuinely confused tone didn’t serve in any way to make Iwa less irritated.

“You didn’t say anything!” He hissed loudly enough that Oikawa winced, holding his cellphone a good distance from his ear before answering. “You used to tell me about that motherfucker’s every move, and now that it’s useful information, you have nothing to say?”

Oikawa frowned.

“Why are you blaming me for your communication issues, Iwa-chan?!” He all but whined.

When Iwa’s voice grew silent on the other line, Oikawa grew slightly nervous. But he was right. This was a particularly severe lapse in communication between Iwa and you that he was now projecting onto him, severe because clearly it had ended up being a bigger deal than it should have been in the first place.

As much as Iwa didn’t want to admit it, yesterday evening was evidence that something was very, very wrong in his relationship with you, or at the very least a residual tangled web of feelings to sort out, and it wasn’t exactly something he could easily fix or improve on his own. 

Not that he wouldn’t try. 

“What happened?” Oikawa finally asked, and Iwa retreated.

“Nothing. I’ll… talk to you later.”

The phone cut off on Iwa’s end and Oikawa sighed with mild irritation before returning to his lunch thousands of miles away.

On the other side of the globe, Iwa made his way from the balcony to the bedroom, setting his phone down on the nightstand and taking a glance at you who had appeared to be finally sleeping soundly, but betrayed by the intermittent soft hiccups of someone who had been crying just moments earlier. 

He hadn’t meant to make you cry. In fact, he hadn’t even meant to force another discussion at all, but hours after the last guests had filed out, none the wiser about the fight that had just transpired earlier (even if Hinata had made a single innocent comment about the bruise blooming on Ushijima’s cheek), the elephant in the room had grown entirely too large for him to bear. Unfortunately, the simple demand for clarification had spiraled out of control and ended up with a shouting match which had culminated in you bursting into tears.

It wasn’t a good look for him to behave like this. 

Even so, Iwa couldn’t stop thinking about how the subject of your argument had replied to his grumbled apology with the admission that he probably deserved the hit for all he’d done. Somehow, the persistent remorse in his voice made Iwa consider hitting him a second time for good measure. 

That wouldn’t be the right move either. There wasn’t really a right move, was there? All Iwaizumi could do was hope that everything would blow over. 

You loved him after all; he was sure of it.

---

you knew, didn’t you?

knew what?

You grit your teeth at the quickly returned text message, then set your phone down at your desk letting out a hushed but aggravated sigh, before picking it up again and typing furiously. 

you texted me, ‘how’s everything going?’ right before all that shit happened.

that could mean literally anything??? What???

You didn’t know how much longer your friend was going to feign innocence, but it looked like not very long because once your eyes flitted back to the unfinished project proposal you had been working on, your phone quickly buzzed again. 

By the time you had told her what happened this morning on your morning commute to work, she had grown a little too quiet, interjecting very little as you spoke and not asking any clarifying questions. You had assumed that she had just been being extra considerate, but now that it was early afternoon and there was a lull in your concentration, it occurred to you again just how clearly she must have anticipated the awkward situation.

YOU said you didn’t follow sports anymore + it’s been 3 years. HOW was I supposed to know you were going to overreact?

Overreact?

There was a small pause in which you saw her speech bubble pop up and then down, and then up again.

Not overreacting I guess, but I’m just confused… Don’t you and Iwa talk? How did it become a huge deal?

You decided you didn’t really have an answer to that. All you could do was return a noncommittal idk, letting the conversation die out and returning back to the task at hand.

---

“Mommy, why does he look like that?”

Ushijima glanced for a split second at the small child pointing openly at him, giving a small, understanding nod to the mortified mother trying to quiet her son’s whispers before continuing on his way back to his hotel.

His face didn’t exactly throb anymore, but the bruise he had been gifted with was very noticeable even if he had to be thankful he didn’t have a black eye. Iwa had hit him surprisingly hard, which was good. At the very least, he could count on him to protect you.

Getting hit in the face by your athletic trainer wasn’t ideal but he and Iwaizumi were both professionals. They could put it past them.

Even if they didn’t have a deep friendship, there was a sort of camaraderie since they’d met in California years ago. That relationship didn’t have to sour, he told himself. 

He just needed to give you two a wide berth. 

Even if he didn’t want to, he had to. It was the right, mature thing to do. 

Even if he didn’t miss on the court, he’d missed a crucial set in life. 

He had no right to demand a second chance.

---

You hadn’t traveled home alone in a while, you realized, as you set pace towards your apartment after a long shift. The subway was cramped as usual, but the closeness of the quarters felt more noticeable and uncomfortable now that Iwa’s hand wasn’t holding yours and keeping you close to him. He’d messaged you about an hour before you were about to leave work to give you a heads up that he would be returning late, and for a moment, you wondered if it were really true or if he was still mad at you.

But you knew Iwa well enough to be confident that he didn’t hold grudges, and if he were still uncomfortable he would tell you - he would never actively avoid you. 

Then again, you hadn’t had a conflict like this before.

I don’t love him, I only love you, you’d said to him almost screaming, defensive because Iwa’s voice had sounded hurt when you failed to come up with the words to explain why you were so shaken still.

You’d meant that with your whole heart. So why exactly did you react so poorly? 

Maybe it was the final death rattle of unresolved feelings, rearing their ugly head before being banished to whatever realm past hurts went once they were healed.

When you finally made it to your apartment, you stood for a moment at the entryway after flipping the light switch, taking a couple of seconds to blink away the fact that things didn’t look quite right. 

For a moment, you couldn’t remember exactly when you had replaced your TV - was that before or after Ushijima? Had that couch always been in that position? 

Fatigue even made you wonder where your houseplants had gone, until you remembered you had all but given them all away, telling yourself that those last vestiges of your relationship would have to vanish before you could truly count yourself moved on.

Now that the plants were gone, were you truly over it?

You let out a sigh and set your keys down before shooting a message to Iwa to let him know that you had made it home. That proposal wouldn’t write itself, and you could tackle it anew once you’d treated yourself with a warm bath and a modest glass of wine.

---

Seated in his soon-to-be minimally used office, Iwaizumi leafed through the short stack of papers before him, including prior athletic history and a formal written statement from the team physician. Satisfied, he gathered the documents and gently pushed them across the desk towards the silent, patiently waiting athlete sitting across from him.

“It looks like you’re cleared for practice tomorrow,” he said, offering a measured smile to Ushijima.

“Not that I expected any issues,” Iwa continued, compelled to keep speaking from the lack of response from the man before him. While he didn’t exactly sense hostile energy from Ushijima, it seemed like he was even more difficult to read than usual. 

Then again, Iwa was unsure if he was projecting; he acknowledged that prior to this very moment in time, he had been more standoffish than usual, having avoided unnecessary interaction with Ushijima during the day’s orientation activities.

He took a surreptitious glance at the wall clock above his head. There were only two more members to clear after Ushijima and then he’d be done for the day and could go back home to you, maybe picking up sushi on the way home as a peace offering.

Ushijima didn’t exactly look like he was getting ready to leave, but Iwa hadn’t explicitly dismissed him.

The two sat in an awkward silence and Iwa wondered if he should apologize again to settle the stagnant air between them, not knowing that the man before him was considering the exact same thing. 

What happens now? seemed to be the question du jour.

“How’s your father?” Iwa asked abruptly, shifting in his chair and leaning forward on elbows propped onto the desk, maybe a little too forward, in attempts to keep his mind off the fact that the volleyball player before him had also played with his love’s heart.

“He’s been well. Thank you for asking.”

Another pause ensued and Iwa was running out of ways to tell him politely to get out of his office for his next client, but for once Ushijima was the one to break the silence.

“I want us to have a good working relationship despite everything.”

The statement hung in the air for a second before settling and Iwa could feel irritation start to bubble in the pit of his stomach once again, but instead he forced a pleasant smile.

“Of course.”

---

With feet tucked beneath you, your laptop perched on the glass coffee table and a half-drunk glass of white wine (refilled once) atop the end table next to the couch, the sad truth was that you had only written about five lines in the past 45 minutes. 

Instead, against all the advice you’d ever been given in your life, you had sleuthed your way into your ex’s Instagram and Facebook accounts, gleaning as much information as you could about what had happened after you were two, after you’d blocked him cold turkey on every social media application and vowed never to look back.

As expected, the pictures and life updates he posted were few and far between, but there were still some to learn from, especially when you looked through those snapshots taken by others in his life. You were initially surprised to see old pictures of you together still up if you went back far enough, but clicked past them quickly because the fact that you looked so happy was more irritating than sad at this point of time. 

You took another sip of your wine, feeling a soft warmth in your cheeks and a light pleasant haze fill your head while you kept perusing. Some pictures you recognized from his prior team here, Schweiden Adlers, and then there were other promotional images from a new team, Orzel Warsawa... He had even traveled to Poland without your knowledge, you mused.

You took special note of women he looked all too close to for friendship as you browsed, noting a gorgeous, tall blonde in several pictures he appeared to have dated for a brief stint of a couple of months.

1 short relationship in three years. It was a shame, you thought. They could have had the prettiest kids.

And there, you finally realized your internal monologue was crazy. Why were you doing this again?

You threw back the final bit of wine and switched back to your Word document. Maybe writing while a little tipsy wasn’t the best of ideas but any words on the page were better than none.

…

It didn’t take long for you to doze off and your boyfriend to find you sprawled on your belly on the sofa, your glass empty and precariously placed at the edge of the sofa, and your laptop placed just inches above your head.

Iwa’s smile was immediate as he admired your silly position while setting down dinner, quickly walking over to gather you up for bed.

You murmured slightly as he scooped you into his arms, your face instinctively nuzzling his chest. He couldn’t help but think of how cute you were, kissing your forehead softly before tucking you under the covers. You had been so exhausted lately from work, so he’d let you get some early shuteye rather than disturb your peace.

Leaving the bedroom to eat dinner alone on the couch, he noted your laptop in suboptimal location, moving it to the table before sitting down to avoid a future accident.

It flashed on with the slight movement, revealing a lengthy document with heavy blocks of text, which he saved just in case because autosave failure would bring you to tears. He then clicked out, only to see the results of your cyberstalking session.

His heart may have skipped a beat or two but he closed your laptop instead, leaning back into his chair to finish eating dinner.

The uneasiness that filled his stomach instead had to be related to the raw fish he’d brought home. 

There was simply no other explanation, couldn’t be.

[kurohoely]

more (kuroo x y/n)

here's my first random mini drabble, self-indulgent kuroo fic because i can :) twitter saw it first but reduce, reuse, recycle am i right :'D

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff if you look respectfully

wc: 866

You and Kuroo were both in your junior year in college, the point where your assignments are piling up and harder but you didn’t have any special treatment because you were in the ‘middle’. Everything needs to be done during this year before its too late after graduating.

There are bad days for sure but having them back to back two weeks straight is just inhumane. You need a break this time. You forgot to save your report after fixing it. You dropped your bubble tea right in front of the shop. Your groupmate decided to bail on the project.

You had enough. You just can’t handle this anymore. The fatigue kept building up and today it reached its breaking point. You grabbed your keys and walked to your shared apartment as fast as you could.

“Fuck it. I’m just gonna go to bed”

As soon as you arrived in your apartment, you thought Kuroo would be here, greeting you as always. But he wasn’t. Your shoulders dropped and you stashed your keys into the wooden paw bowl. You sigh, dragging your feet into the bedroom.

The bed never looked more warm as ever. A place that was so intimate, a small world that was built within the four walls with your other half. Your cheeks dampen without you realizing it.

“Ah shit”

You climbed on your side of the bed, hugging Kuroo’s pillow tightly. You cried. You law down and cried. What else can you do. You felt as if you weren’t good enough for your major and even more so feeling that you will have to retake the classes. Why was the world hate seeing you having a little control over your own life?

You grabbed your phone with the last bit of your energy and texted Kuroo.

“im tired”

Sent. The last bit depleted just as you hit send. Kuroo was struggling to understand why was his Nutrition mid term got some missed mark when he thought it was perfect? This isn't fair.

After staying back for office hours with the TA, he finally saw your text. His heart drops and cold sweats started dripping.

“Hey bub, you okay? I’m coming home rn”

No reply. He waited for a few more minutes before texting you another on the bus.

“Hey. Did you have a bad day?”

“You’re not talking about me right? I’m sorry ik ive been busy but its mid terms week so yknow how it is right”

Nothing. Not even read by you. He didn’t think much. His ride home was silent but only god knows the chaos inside his mind right now.

He was grateful at least to see your shoes on the floor. At least he knows you’re home, safe. He called out your name but didn’t heard a reply so he thought that maybe you were in the shower.

As soon as he opened the door, he could hear his world and future cracked. Near to shattering when he saw you curled up, hugging tightly onto his pillow with a wet stain on it. The view somehow convinced him that he IS the reason for the text. He drops everything and slowly climbed to the bed. Softly, pulling your body into his laps, resting your head on his chest. He hugged you tightly, firmly as if you it was the last thing he’ll ever do with you. His warmth was home but his heartbeat was thumping. Hard. You woke up as he tugged you.

“Hey bub are youー”

“Please. I’ll fix anything. Don’t leave me”

The hug tightens more.

“Hey baby? What are you talking about? You don’t have to fix anything and I’m not going to leave you. What made you to have these thoughts? Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his heads but his body was still trembling out of anxiety.

“Your text”

You grabbed your phone and saw ‘17 missed calls and 9 new messages from Kuroo bub <3'

Your eyes widen but then soften. You understood why he was acting like this.

“Hey baby, look at me”

You cupped his cheeks and gently thumbing his cheekbones. You gave your earnest smile.

“I was having the worst day. I cried my eyes out when I saw the bed and how I missed you so much for this past week. We’ve been busy with assignments and everything that we barely have time for each other. My fatigue was building up and it broke today. I’m sorry to have you hanging like that. It must be so scary right? But I’m here now bub. Okay?”

“I thought you were tired of me for not making you my priority. I was so scared that our home was going to break because of me. My own lack ofー”

You kissed his lips gently before he could even finish. Kuroo has always been the teaser in your dynamic but when things get serious, he became quiet and uses less word. Cautious because he knows words weigh more in these situations.

“Do you wanna cook dinner with me? All of the crying is making meー”

Kuroo’s stomach cuts you.

“Shut up”

You both giggled and walk into the kitchen, scavenging whatever is left. You both looked at each other.

“Let's just have takeout, how's that sound?”

Yeah, we’ll be okay

[master-sass-blast]

Release.

Hmmmmm... this thing is solid projection. Whoops.

Summary: You're exhausted. No matter what you do, you can't get enough rest to save your soul. You try to keep up with everything, try to not let the fatigue hinder you

--And then it all comes crashing down.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: T for depression, anxiety, chronic fatigue, and general angst-hurt/comfort vibes.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical,” but this one is special in that it doesn't directly impact the canon. It's sort of a special one-off.

Author’s Note: So, as some of you may have gathered from the tags and preamble, this fic is basically me venting my own frustration.

I've been dealing with some pretty wicked chronic fatigue for the better part of... coming up on a year now, actually. Wow. I didn't realize it'd been that long.

It's made life really hard for me, from everything to eating to doing chores to hanging out with friends to writing. We don't know what's causing it, and we're trying to take care of it through lifestyle changes and making sure I don't exert myself too much (we meaning me, my family, my fiance, and my doctor). There's been a few things that have helped, but by in large it's still been kicking my ass.

I know I was gone for a long time. Part of that was the fatigue making it impossible to write or post. To those of you who are still around, thank you -and I'm sorry. I'm trying my best, I promise.

If you're dealing with chronic fatigue or think you're dealing with chronic fatigue, just know that it's okay that you're tired. You're not lazy. You're not a failure. You're not going crazy. You're not a burden. Your body needs rest, you need rest, and you *deserve* to rest.

Here's a resource on chronic fatigue syndrome and what it looks like.

I hope you're all doing well. Stay safe and wear your mask.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

It creeps over you. It starts as a wispy, soft cloud, hanging over the horizon of your existence.

And then it grows. Larger, more oppressive. Until you’re fully immersed in it, with no sense of direction or how to get out.

 ***

 You’re not really sure you remember when it started. You’ve always been tired to some extent –anxiety, nightmares, and running on the X-Men schedule will do that to a person.

Exhaustion hits like a brick one day after training. You slump against the tiled wall in one of the shower stalls in the locker room. Water streams down your sweaty face and body while you struggle to make your eyes focused. Shit. I must have pushed too hard.

You manage to get yourself cleaned up and trudge back to yours and Piotr’s home at the back of Xavier’s property. You collapse onto the couch in the living room. Your limbs are stone, too heavy to drag another step. Your body throbs in time with your heartbeat. I need a nap. Just for a couple hours.

You only want to sleep for a couple hours.

You only mean to sleep for a couple hours.

You wake up at nine in the evening, to Piotr gently nudging you.

He tuts, fussing over you like a worried mother hen. “Are you feeling well, myshka?” He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You have slept for long time.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, mind still cloudy with exhaustion. You force yourself to sit up. You jaw cracks when you yawn. “Just overdid it in training today.”

Your husband gently chides you, ushering you into the kitchen so you can eat. “It is important to replenish energy.”

You go straight to bed after eating and sleep for another ten hours.

 ***

 Part of you wonders ‘how did I let this happen? How did I let it get this bad?’

The other part of you wonders if you had any say in it at all.

 ***

 The fatigue starts seeping into other areas of your life as well. Training, grading, hanging out with friends, eating…

You’re so tired. You chalk it up to mission stress, to going too hard during training, to running on weird hours all the time.

You start sleeping through the day to cope. No matter how well you sleep at night or how much sleep you get, you’re always so fucking tired.

Piotr notices the change in your sleeping habits. Because of course he does. It’s ingrained into his very DNA to be an observant, loving nurturer.

He brings it up during dinner one night. “Are you doing alright, myshka?”

“What? Yeah. Of course.” You’d woken up from a nap a couple hours before, and you feel good for once. (You’ll crash a couple hours later.) “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You have been sleeping at odd hours,” Piotr says, stirring his soup with his spoon. “I just want to make sure you are not having mental troubles.”

“I’m fine, baby.” And, on that front, you are. You’ve got your meds, your support system, a home, creative outlets, and a fulfilling –if occasionally dangerous—job. “I’ve just been tired lately, is all. I think it’s the weird mission hours just putting my body clock out of whack.”

“You should try to stay on normal schedule, then,” Piotr points out. He frowns, concerned. “Is not good for mental health to keep odd hours.”

You bristle. You are trying, dammit. You push through training and grading and your obligations every single damn day, even if all you can do is collapse in bed afterwards. Who the hell is he to say that you’re not trying?! “I am, Piotr. You don’t have to micromanage me. I’m not one of your teens.”

Piotr recoils, blue eyes widening. He holds up his hands. “Easy, dorogoy. I am not trying to micromanage. I just want you to be healthy.”

You drop your gaze down to your bowl of soup. Your heart races in your throat. “Sorry.”

***

 It’s like being one of those houses infested with termites. You’re being consumed from the inside out. On the outside, you look fine. On the inside, you’re crumbling away like a sad, dry cookie left in the bottom of the cookie jar for five long, lonely months.

You’ve always been weird. You oscillate between outgoing and reclusive like nobody’s business. You’re a lot like Wade –somewhere between amusing and a nuisance to most of the adults, though most of the teens and kids like you.

(Piotr insists that it’s not true, that everyone likes you well enough, but you’ve never quite had the full faith to believe him.)

No one notices that you’re hurting. No one notices that something’s wrong. No one notices, no one notices, no one fucking notices—

But, to be fair, you hardly notice it yourself.

 ***

 You kind of start to lose your mind, if you’re being honest.

It’s hard enough to keep up with your workload with the mission scheduling –but being tired all the time slams the nail in the coffin. You manage to drag yourself to training on time because it’s mandatory, because it’s important, because it’s for the good of your team, and—

And everything else falls apart.

You spend countless late night hours on the couch cramming through your grading, because you needed to sleep earlier, and the deadline’s only looming closer, and you have to be productive, dammit—

More than once, you drag yourself up to bed when Piotr’s just getting up for the day.

He frowns, forehead creasing. “Myshka—”

“I had grading to do,” you mutter as you crawl back into bed.

He finishes buttoning up his shirt, then sits down next to you. The bedframe groans under his bulk. “This is not healthy, moya lyubov’.”

“I’m fucking working on it, Piotr!” you snap, glaring at your husband. “Just –leave me alone!”

He swallows hard, blue eyes shining with hurt. He looks like a kicked puppy.

You huff and slam your face into your pillow, mostly to hide the fact that you’re crying.

Piotr smooths your hair down, then kisses the back of your head. “Ya tebya lyublyu, myshka.”

You bite down on your pillow and cry harder.

 ***

 It’s more than just being tired.

It’s guilt. It’s enough guilt to fill an ocean. No amount of effort you make is good enough; no matter how hard you try you wind up failing. Or snapping at someone you love. Or being unable to do even the simplest shit.

There’s so much anger, too. At the world, at anyone who points out that you’re not doing well, at yourself. There’s a scream constantly behind your lips, trying to crack its way out of your chest.

You’re failing. You’re trying to scoop up handfuls of sand to keep an entire dune from consuming you, and the grains keep running through your fingers; it practically looks like you haven’t done anything at all, and you’re so fucking tired…

 ***

 The ‘house’ collapses over a load of dishes.

One load of fucking dishes.

It’s ridiculous.

You manage to drag yourself out of bed one morning, trying to get the haze that seems to be a permanent fixture in your mind to clear. You trudge downstairs, energy sapping out of you with every step you take.

You see last night’s dishes in the sink, waiting to be rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher.

It’s an easy task. The dishes aren’t all that dirty, and there aren’t that many of them.

And you can’t do it. You don’t have the energy. You’re just too fucking tired.

You failed.

You crumple to the floor, weeping against the wooden floorboards as the dam you’d been trying so hard to keep stable gives way. You scream, anger and guilt and frustration and self-loathing washing over you, crushing you beneath their weight. You clutch at your hair, seething as the past few months finally come to a head—

And then Piotr’s arms are around you. (Later, you’ll learn that he stopped back at the house to pick up a gradebook, which is why he was even around during the day in the first place.) He scoops you up, cradling you against his chest. “Myshka, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You sob into his shirt, beyond words.

“Okay, okay.” He checks you over to make sure you’re not visibly injured, then carries you upstairs to bed.

You whimper when he tries to tuck you in. “No –I’ve got stuff to do—”

“It can wait,” he says, loving but firm. He gently tugs the comforter over you, then toes his shoes off before laying down next to you.

“It can’t,” you cry, even as he tugs you into his arms and tucks you against his chest. “It’s already waited for so long.”

“And it can wait longer.” He kisses your forehead. “It is okay, myshka. Rest.”

You snuffle and sob and gasp—

And, eventually, you fall asleep.

 ***

 You wake up to Piotr stroking your hair. You inhale sharply, blinking to cast the bleariness out of your vision. “What time is it?”

“About noon,” he says.

Your heart sinks. “Shit. I’ve got grading—”

He places his arm over your waist, holding you in place. “It can wait.”

“But—”

“You had breakdown this morning, myshka. Health comes first.” He gazes into your eyes, brow furrowing. “Talk to me, moya lyubov. Please. What is wrong?”

Your heart rips into infinitesimal pieces at seeing him so worried –and then you start crying again. “I can’t…” You squeeze your eyes shut and buy your face against his chest. “I can’t. I can’t do it. No matter how much sleep I get, or I don’t get, or how much I exercise or don’t exercise, or what I eat or –any of it. I’m so tired, Piotr.” You let out a choked sob. “I’m just so tired, and I keep failing—”

Piotr rubs your back and kisses the top of your head. “It’s okay, myshka. It’s okay.”

***

 Eventually, you settle again. You’re snuggled against Piotr’s chest, sniffling and sighing while he strokes your hair.

It’s not a bad place to bed.

“How long?” he asks, voice quiet and gentle. “How long have you felt tired?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, lulled to a state of near drowsiness by his ministrations. “A few months? Maybe a little longer? I’ve always been kind of tired, what with anxiety and nightmares and all that shit.”

He ‘hmms,’ kissing the top of your head. “Have you eaten yet?”

“…does leftover pizza at three in the morning count?”

He sighs, exasperated and amused. “Okay, time for food.”

“I can’t,” you whimper, tears coming back as frustration swells in your chest. “I’m too tired to eat.”

Piotr shushes you, gently drying your cheeks with a tissue. “What if I bring you something?”

You stomach churns with guilt and self-loathing. “I’m not a baby. I don’t… I shouldn’t need people to make food for me.”

“No, not baby,” Piotr agrees, kissing your cheek. “But you are unwell.”

“I’m not sick!”

“Unwell is unwell,” Piotr states, voice brokering no room for debate (though it never loses that gentle intonation of his). “If I bring you food, will you eat?”

You hesitate, then manage a small nod. “Something small, please. I don’t want, like, a whole meal.”

Piotr nods. He heads downstairs, then returns a few minutes later with some toast, fruit, a glass of milk –and some Cheetos.

You giggle when you see the fluorescent orange cheese-snacks on your plate. “You do love me.”

“Navsegda.” He hands the plate to you, sets the glass on your nightstand, then waits for you to start in on your toast before speaking again. “I think you should see Dr. Mccoy about fatigue.”

“But I’m not sick,” you argue after swallowing a bite of toast.

“That you know of,” he corrects. “Lots of things can cause fatigue. Is best to check, to make sure more serious problem is not happening.”

“But…” A lump rises in your throat. “What if this is just me now? What if… what if I’m just broken?”

Piotr takes your hand in his. He presses his lips against your knuckles. “Then we know, and we make life suited to your brokenness.”

“I can’t slow everyone down, Piotr,” you insist. Your eyes burn with unshed tears. “I can’t –I can’t be a burden. It’s not fair to everyone else if I’m getting some sort of special treatment because I’m tired.”

“You are not burden,” Piotr declares, gaze boring into yours. “You are never burden. Understand?”

“Piotr—”

“Things happen, myshka. Sometimes, our bodies just… do not work right anymore. You still deserve comfortable, happy life. Nothing is unfair about that. Nothing.” He kisses the back of your hand again when you sigh, then pats your leg. “Finish eating. We go to doctor afterwards.”

 ***

 The only way out is through.

Who would’ve guessed.

 ***

 Dr. McCoy runs a series of comprehensive tests. Thyroid, allergy, iron deficiencies, vitamin deficiencies, glucose levels—

It comes back negative. All of it.

On one hand, it’s a good thing, given that you don’t have some sort of life-threatening condition that needs treating.

On the other hand, you just feel worse. It’s like proof that you have no excuse, that you’re tired for no reason, and that you just need to try harder.

“You are trying,” Piotr says when you admit as much. He draws you into a hug and kisses the top of your head. “We just need to find tools so that trying isn’t so hard.”

“What if there’s nothing?” you ask in a horrified whisper. “What if we try everything and nothing works?”

He kisses the top of your head again. “Then that is okay, too. However you are is okay, myshka.”

 ***

 “How’s the tai chi going?”

You shrug. “It’s fine.” Nathan had switched you over to low impact exercise the second he got wind of your fatigue issues. “Wade likes to do it with me; we like to try and incorporate lame dance moves into our sets to see if Nathan’ll catch us doing it.”

Alyssa chuckles and shakes her head. “And does he?”

“He definitely did when Wade started doing the worm.”

The two of you laugh together.

“And how’s your task setting going?” Alyssa asks when you both settle back down. She grins when you scowl. “Ooh, I knew that’d be your reaction. I knew you were not going to like it one bit. You keep trying to eat the whole whale, sweetheart. You’re gonna choke!”

“I know, I know.” You sigh, frustrated and dejected in equal measure. “It’s just… hard. I used to be able to do so much more. And now –it’s like my body was stolen away from me.”

“I know, sweetheart. And I’m so sorry. But it’s important that you learn to readjust your scope for what’s reasonable and what’s not. Otherwise, you’re gonna keep spinning yourself in anxious circles –and you’re gonna keep making the fatigue worse by overworking yourself.”

You groan and rub at your face with your hands. “It just… it feels wrong! Like I’m being lazy! I don’t have a reason to be so tired.”

“Sure you do,” Alyssa says, as if it’s that simple. “Your body is healing. You spent a lifetime being traumatized and abused. Your body put itself on hold to help keep you alive. You’ve dealt with your anxiety, depression, and trauma to the point where you’re stable, so now all those years of stress and pain are finally catching up. This is your body’s way of saying ‘hey, it’s my turn!’ So, now you need to listen to it.”

“But what if I don’t get better?” you ask, voice fraying. “What if I’m like this forever?”

She shrugs, tucking her braids over her shoulder. “That could happen; the amount of trauma you went through would be more than enough to result in a permanent presentation of chronic fatigue syndrome. But it could also get better, too. There’s no point in trying to predict the outcome.”

“But if I don’t get better, I’ll have to step down from being an X-Man.”

“There is more to this life than being an X-Man, honey,” Alyssa says, smiling warmly at you. “You have an entire world to discover. You just might have to do it at a different pace than everyone else. Your goal isn’t to get back to being an X-Man. Your goal is to take care of yourself.”

You tuck your knees under your chin and wrap your arms around your legs. “That doesn’t feel like enough.”

“How come?”

“Because it’s me. I have to do more to make up for the fact that it’s me.”

Alyssa points her pen at you. “That’s the anxiety and depression talking. You are more than enough, just as you are. Your worth is not based on your productivity or what you can offer to society. It’s based on your existence as a human being, that’s all.”

You drop her gaze, opting to look down at the ornate, ocean blue rug she keeps in her office instead.

“I want you to keep working on adjusting your goal setting,” Alyssa says as she jots down a few notes in your file. “Three things a day, whether it’s chore, work, or self-care related. Nothing else goes on that list unless you need to remember to do it, like taking your meds. Okay?”

You mutter your assent.

“Attagirl. I also want you to do your positive affirmations. Three times a day, plus whenever you get caught in negative thought patterns.”

You groan and slump down on the couch. “No! Positive affirmations suck!”

“They’re wonderful,” Alyssa fires back, chuckling. “They’re so good for you, so good for your brain…” She laughs when you retch, then closes your file and stands. “Alright, sweetheart. Keep at it. I’ll see you next week.”

Piotr looks up when you walk out of Alyssa’s office. “All done?”

“She’s making me do more positive affirmations,” you grumble (you can hear Alyssa laugh at your admission).

“Ah, is good for you,” Piotr says as he ushers you down the hall. “Good to say truth out loud.”

You retch again. “Not you, too. I need to go find Wade. He’ll understand.”

Your husband chuckles and shakes his head. “Come on, myshka. Back home with you.”

“Why does it have to be so far?” you groan. “It’s so much walking.”

“Are you feeling tired?”

You sigh. “Honestly, yeah. I’m really wiped out.”

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulder in a one-armed hug. “I am sorry, moya lyubov’. Would you like me to carry you?”

“I shouldn’t need carrying.”

Piotr stops. He cups your face in his massive hands, making you look up at him. “Is not about ‘should’ or ‘should not.’ If your body needs help, then you need help.”

You hesitate, but ultimately nod. “Yeah. I’d be nice if you carried me.”

He nods. He waits until you two are outside, then kneels so you can clamber on his back. “Hop on, myshka.”

You loop your arms around his neck. You wait until he has his arms looped around your legs, then point in the direction of your house. “Home, Jeeves.”

Piotr chuckles. “I am transport service, now?”

“Damn right.” You gently slap his burly chest. “Mush. I want Poptarts.”

Piotr laughs again, then sets off across the lawn.

 ***

 You’re not alright. Not technically. Alyssa’s right that you’ve been hurt. Healing takes time, and you’re just beginning your journey.

But you’ve got Piotr. Your family. Your friends. You’ve got Dr. McCoy and Alyssa as professional support. You have a home to rest in when you’re weary.

You’re okay –and on the days that you’re not, you will be.

And that’s more than enough.

[suneatersupportsquad]

lime st.

summary :: you and colby got together a little while before colby left for LA. it’s only been a few months, but colby hears a song that reminds him of you and he rushes to finish everything he’s doing today so he can get home and call you.

song :: neck deep - lime st.

pairing :: Colby Brock x reader

WARNINGS :: long distance relationship, slight sadness

find more fics at my new blog @trapboysbunny

It’s been a few days since I saw you last And there’s a few thing that I have to ask

Colby had been waiting outside LAX for 20 minutes and he couldn’t help but be a little upset to be back; he was here and Y/N was stuck back in Kansas. Every time he would visit, both of them would have long conversations about Y/N moving out to LA with him but, right now, it just wasn’t a possibility. Y/N had been working hard to put themselves through college - they were almost finished, too! It would have all been a waste if they were to drop out now. Colby couldn’t help but miss them.

And so the first is, do I hold you back? And did I fuck up too many times?

Colby had been staring up into the darkness for a few hours, tossing and turning until he finally gave up. Reaching for his phone, he dialed Y/N’s number without even looking and pressed the device to his ear. It rang a few times before they answered. “Hey, baby. Can’t sleep?” The sound of their voice instantly relaxed him, the tension fleeing from his muscles.

“Nope,” he answered, already smiling fondly into the nothingness. “What’re you doing up? I didn’t expect you to answer...”

His date mate huffed a little on the other side, clearly frustrated with their schoolwork. “I’m actually studying for art history; have a test later this week.”

“Okay, baby. Sorry to bother you, I’ll let you go-”

“Don’t hang up,” they cut him off and Colby could almost hear them laying themselves across the desk they were using. “I needed a break anyways; my eyes hurt. Talk to me.”

Colby frowned a little; he could almost hear the i miss you that teased the tip of his lover’s tongue. “Okay, love.”

“How was your day?” they asked through a yawn.

Colby closed his eyes and imagined Y/N. A vivid image of them danced across the backs of his eyelids. He could almost see them leaning across their dorm room desk, cheek resting on their arm as their sweater-covered free hand rubbed the end of their nose. “It was good,” he replied, raising his eyebrows to remind himself to stay awake ((he was suddenly tired)) but keeping his eyes closed. “Busy, helping everyone film their videos.”

“Yeah?” Y/N asked softly, amused. Colby hummed in response. “How is everyone?”

“Good. Everyone’s good,” the brunette boy mumbled in return.

“Good.” Colby could hear their smile, small but full of energy he could feel even over the phone. “Have you been drinking water?”

“Yes.”

“And eating regularly?”

“Yes, baby.”

“And sleeping?”

Colby inhaled sharply, scrunching up his nose. “...Yes.”

“Cole!” Y/N whispered in playful disappointment. “Baby, you have to sleep!”

“I know, I know. Just too many projects to get done right now.”

Y/N hummed into the microphone of their device, their eyelids growing heavy as they continued to lean over the desk.

“Baby, I have a question,” Colby blurted, eyes opening suddenly, only to be greeted with darkness.

“Yeah, what’s up?” his partner replied, blinking hard and lifting their head.

“Is this long-distance relationship thing working?”

Y/N laughed, the sound of it almost disturbing in the quiet that had filled the gaps in their conversation. “Of course it is. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be talking on the phone with you right now.” There was silence on the line as Colby searched for the right words. “Cole Robert Brock, you are not about to break up with me over the phone at one in the fucking morning.”

“No, of course not!” Colby found himself saying suddenly. “I mean... I don’t hold you back, do I?”

Y/N snorted, and Colby could hear them slap their hand over their mouth. “No! If you held me back, I wouldn’t be finishing college right now. Holding me back would be moving me out to LA with you without asking what I wanted. Holding me back would be you telling me I’m not allowed to go out without you. You are most definitely not holding me back.”

Colby chewed on his lip for a moment before speaking again. “One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Did I fuck up too many times?”

They busted out laughing and he could hear Y/N’s roommate in the background, sleepily telling them to ‘shut the hell up.’ “Oh man, baby, we’re gonna be here for a while.” They were joking, clearly, and the LA boy couldn’t help but smile a little.

We’ve fallen out of place But I pray to God we don’t lose connection Just need to see you smile or maybe stay awhile Before we lose all sense of direction

It was a Tuesday. The day hadn’t started off very well and Colby could feel his mood dropping with every passing hour. Fuck, he missed them. He was on his way to a meeting when he decided he needed to call Y/N. He hadn’t thought to check whether or not they were in a class first but, thankfully, they weren’t. “Hey, love,” Y/N answered, the sound of a bustling coffee shop in the background.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted in return, smiling at the sound of their voice. He was already feeling better.

“How’s your day going?”

Colby sighed. “It’s going, that’s for sure.”

He could almost hear your frown. “Shit. I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s fine.” He paused. “Hey, I’m thinking about coming to visit. What’s your schedule looking like?”

Y/N’s hand met their thigh loudly, the sound of the slap dulled out by the material of their jeans. “Midterms are coming up...” Both of them slumped a little in their seats. “Sorry, baby. I really wish-”

“Don’t say sorry; it’s fine,” Colby assured them, drumming on the steering wheel. “We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

They hummed on the other line, chewing on their straw as they tried to find a solution, or at least a compromise. “I could send you a picture?” they suggested.

“If that’s all I can get right now, I’ll take it,” Colby agreed jokingly, but deep down his heart hurt. He really did miss Y/N.

“I’ll be sending a kiss your way, so be expecting it,” they added sweetly, and he could hear them blowing the ‘kiss’ from their palm in the direction of California.

“Thank you, baby,” he said sweetly and found himself smiling fondly. “I’ll let you go now. I love you.”

“I love you too. Have a nice day!” Y/N said happily into the microphone before the call ended. A few minutes later, a text came in: it was a picture and a link to a playlist. good songs for bad days ((for my lovely boy)). The picture was of Y/N, smiling. They sat at their usual table in the tiny, cramped coffee shop a few minutes from the dorms on campus. Colby was well aware that they didn’t live in the dorms anymore - that they weren’t allowed to, but that they kept going because they’d been going since freshman year. They were almost drowning in the too-big gray sweatshirt that Colby had left with them last visit and their hand rested over their heart. It was their sign; it meant i love you.

And I haven’t seen you smile this whole time It bums out and make me wonder what I can’t do right And I’m trying my best, I promise And I want this as long as you want it

Colby had come to visit for a few days. Him and Y/N were lying on Y/N’s bed, their head resting on Colby’s chest as Colby played with their hair. The TV played in the background, but Y/N wasn’t watching it. They were simply staring at the wall, listening to Colby mindlessly talking about nothing, Y/N’s eyelids growing heavier by the second. They had gone out to eat earlier, but Y/N was so mentally exhausted from midterms that they couldn’t bring themself to actually show any emotion. Of course they loved the fuck out of Colby, but their brain literally hurt from taking so many exams - all they wanted was to sleep. So now that they were in a space to do so, they were fighting their fatigue; it was either spending time with their boyfriend who lived half way across the country, or sleeping.

“You okay, baby?” Colby asked, noticing how uncharacteristically quiet you had been.

Y/N hummed and nodded, tapping their fingers on his stomach. “’m fine, love.”

There was more silence between them before Colby spoke again. “Is everything okay with us? Did I do something wrong?”

The other groaned into the LA boy’s shirt. “Ugh. Fuck you.”

“What?” Colby was confused, panicking a little as Y/N clutched the material of his shirt and pressed it to their face.

“Stop fucking doing this shit. Every time - babe, everything is fine. Just take a nap with me. I love you.”

“...but this is still what you want, right?”

They turned onto their back and glared up at their boyfriend through the hair that tickled their eyelashes. “Would I be here if I didn’t want this?”

Colby chuckled, rubbing circles into their back with the palm of his hand. “I guess not.”

“Good. This is progress.” Y/N nodded once. “Now shut the fuck up and take a nap with me.”

“I love you too, by the way.”

Y/N simply hummed in return.

You asked me where we could meet I found you there at Lime Street One cig left in the packet Stood shy in your dad’s jacket A moment I’ll always keep Oh, take me back to Lime Street I swear to God you saved me Oh, I swear to God you saved me

September 2014. Y/N Colby had known each other for a few months and were just beginning to grow close. Almost at close at him and Sam, Y/N would pride themself in saying. Fall had just reached its peak and the two of them had decided, since the heat had died down, that they would start spending more time together. It was kind of a given with how overbearing Y/N’s parents were, that they weren’t really allowed to go running around with strange boys, especially in the dark.

That night, Colby had called the landline claiming that he needed help with his math homework. Y/N’s (parent/legal guardian) had been skeptical at first but, after the boy had rambled on for a good few minutes about parabolas and logarithm graphs, the adult had forfeited the device to Y/N. “Where can I meet you?” Colby asked. This was the first time either of them had done this, and Y/N could almost hear the excitement in the other’s voice.

Y/N could barely keep themself from giggling in excitement. “Meet me on Beverly and 157th.”

“Okay. See you in a bit.” Both of them hung up quickly after that. Y/N had told their (parents/legal guardians) that, after such a long day at school, they were going to head to bed a little early. Heading upstairs, they stole one of their dad’s old jackets from the hallways closet before heading into their room, setting up their bed to look like they were actually asleep, and climbing out the window. The fall air was chilled their knees and fingertips and they came to the realization that maybe they shouldn’t have worn shorts out tonight. Oh well.

An hour later, Colby found them on the corner of Beverly and 157th smoking an old cigarette as they sat on the curb. “Where’d you get that?”

“Must’ve been my dad’s,” Y/N shrugged, raising it to their lips again as they brushed a few stray hairs out of their eyes. After one more puff, they ground the butt of the cancer stick into the pavement. “You ready?”

Colby nodded. They ran wild on the streets of Stanley, Kansas that night. They conquered the town, and it was theirs until the sun came up again. They had never felt so free.

Is it too late to say, too late to say That I’m sorry for the things I do? I’m missing you like shit today And as the world spins on its axis Seems like it’s brought me back here To say, “Oh God, not this again”

Colby had been running around Los Angeles - his wonderful City of Angels - when it hit him like a brick wall. It was a dull, heavy pain on his heart that instantly made him slump a little. He ignore it, though, at least until they sat down to eat dinner. He missed Y/N, and he missed them bad. Somehow, he had managed to stay put until him and Brennen ordered their food. Then Brennen called him on it. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I, um,” Colby started, but stopped himself. He couldn’t understand why he was choking up. “I really miss them, Brennen.”

The raven-haired boy’s expression softened at that. “You really love them, don’t you?” Colby nodded. “You can go call them, dude. You don’t have to wait for me to give you the green light or anything.”

“Thank you, dude!” Colby said in an outward breath as if it were the best news he had received all day. After giving Brennen a thankful pat on the shoulder, he quickly made his way outside and dialed your number.

“Hi, baby. What’s up?” Y/N’s voice was music to his ears, instantly putting a smile on his face.

“Hi! I’m so sorry that you constantly have to keep putting up with my shit, baby. I love you so much. I know the world is gonna keep spinning no matter how much I miss you but - fuck - mine just stopped. I miss you so fucking much. I can’t wait to see you again, I-” Colby kept rambling, feeling tears leak from the corners of his eyes and he leaned his forehead against the wall outside the restaurant. He rambled until he ran out of air and found himself gasping in another breath before going again, rambled soliloquies about your hands and sonnets about your eyes, rambled until you spoke over him loud enough to pull him out of his thoughts.

“Wait - calm down, baby. Are you okay?”

“No. I fucking miss you so bad, Y/N. All I wanna do is hug you and you’re two-fucking-thousand miles away from me,” he was kind of sobbing at this point, muscles tense as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Are you sure about that?” he heard them ask cheekily on their end, the sounds of a busy, bustling city in the background.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure about that. What’s that supposed to-”

“Can you turn around for me, baby?” Y/N asked cheekily.

Colby swung around faster than he had ever moved before to find Y/N and Brennen standing behind him, cheesy smiles plastered across their faces. He ran to Y/N so fast he had almost toppled the both of them over. “Fuck you!” he exclaimed, sounding almost offended before pulling them into his chest and crying into their hair. “I missed you so much! How did you do this?”

They simply chuckled into the material of his shirt, arms snaking around his waist. “I had the week off and decided to come visit, but I wanted to surprise you. So I had Brennen take you out for the day.” They shrugged nonchalantly as if it were no big deal, slyly sneaking a high-five from Brennen.

“Really?” Colby asked, seeming touched as he lifted his head to look you in the eyes.

Y/N nodded, removing one hand from his waist and wiping a stray tear with their thumb. “Really.”

Colby surprised them both when he suddenly pressed his lips to theirs. “I love you.”

Y/N chuckled fondly, leaning their forehead against his. “I love you too.”

[ltleflrt]

Oh my gods, I can’t believe I’m about to do this... (part 2)

So in my last post prompted by @unforth-ninawaters I shared the first thing I ever wrote.  Everything after that was usually self insert fanfiction hiding behind an original story facade.  I never really finished anything tho.  I have shelves and boxes full of notebooks full of writing, but it was just me imagining myself in fictional worlds.  And they never saw the light of day because I had a teacher tell me once that I should be more creative and make up my own stuff.  That messed me up for years.  Decades, really.  I stopped writing after high school.  That literary magazine that my little ficlet was published in was the last time I put any effort into my writing, and I only wrote little stories that sounded like children’s bed time stories.  But after getting out of that class?  Nothing.  All my saved notebooks are from my teenage years.  

Then when I was 31 (in 2011), the writing bug bit me and I started working on a story I call Incandescent.  I had a reason for that title, although I don’t remember it now that it’s almost 6 years later lol.  Anyway, I was talking to @jupiterjames the other day about old writing, and I went through this file and replaced the original names with Dean and Cas and y’know, I might be able to repurpose this into a fanfiction.  But just for funsies, here is an unedited version of the first thing I wrote after I gave up on writing after highschool.

Duncan lay on his back, one hand propped behind his head, and the other arm wrapped around the hard body of his lover.  He trailed his fingers lazily over Ian’s shoulder, and took comfort in the warm breeze of the other man’s breath against his neck.  

He wished he could fall asleep too, because the constant pull in the back of his mind was exhausting to resist.  The last few hours he’d spent wearing Ian out hadn’t helped his fatigue, but he knew that he would have done it again.  Unfortunately, he needed to be awake to ignore the pulse of magic that was attempting to pull him away.  

He twisted his head to look down at Ian’s sleeping face and smiled crookedly.  At least someone was getting some sleep.  He really needed to get up and get down to the bar, but he was reluctant to leave the warm sanctuary of his bed.  

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled to himself.  His eyes drifted closed.  It had been so long since he’d slept…

A woman sat cross legged in the center of a warding pentagram, nude but for the symbols painted on her skin.  Before her was another large symbol, ugly and warped in his sight.  He could hear her whispering to him in the old language.  The normally lilting sounds were twisted by unskilled lips and tongue, but he could still understand.  

“Come for me.”

He felt his body harden in response to the double meaning.  He wanted to obey her request.  He wanted to pin her to the floor with his body, and his claws and teeth. He wanted to spread her legs, and pump into her as she screamed in pleasure and pain.

“Take what you will.”

And he would.  Her flesh, and her soul.  He could almost taste it already.  It would be coppery, and slightly rancid on his tongue.  He licked his lips in anticipation and took a step towards her, no longer paying attention to the glowing glyphs scribed on the floor in salt and blood.  

She looked up as if she could see him, although he knew she could not.  Not yet.  He would reveal himself only at the last moment, so he could taste her fear.  She looked confident, and he wanted to see her eyes fill with realization and terror when she saw his true form for the first time.  

He moved to step forward again, his foot hovering over the warped glyph, and she smiled in triumph….

A strong fist reached out of the darkness and with an audible crack of bone against bone, slammed into his jaw.  Duncan’s eyes flew open and he focused on Ian straddling his waist, fist pulled back for another punch.  

The worried look in Ian’s eyes faded into relief.  “Thank the Light,” he breathed.  “I thought she’d gotten you that time for sure.”

Duncan grunted and reached up to rub his jaw.  “Jesus, Ian.  Did you have to hit me so hard?”

“You started to phase out when I slapped you.”

“You slapped me?” Duncan asked in shock.

“You obviously didn’t notice,” Ian said wryly.  Now that the Duncan was fully awake again, he relaxed his weight and sat back on his lovers thighs.  He ran his hands over Duncan’s chest and stomach in a way that they both found comforting.

Duncan sighed and soaked up the reassurance of Ian’s touch.  He wanted to close his eyes again, but was afraid to.  “She’s getting stronger,” he said quietly.

“I noticed,” Ian said just as softly.

Duncan groaned and closed his eyes, and put a hand over them.  He didn’t want to see the understanding in Ian’s eyes.  It was bad enough that Ian could see what Duncan experienced, but the fact that he could also sense some of what Duncan felt during the visions made him distinctly uncomfortable.  

“Hey.”

Duncan stubbornly kept his eyes closed.  

“Hey!” Ian said again, this time running the tips of his fingers along the ticklish underside of Duncan’s arm.

Duncan didn’t uncover his eyes, but used his free hand to grab Ian’s roving hand.  

“I’ll find her,” Ian promised.

Duncan bared his teeth in a hiss.

Ian laughed.  “You don’t scare me Demon.”

Duncan finally uncovered his eyes and snarled at Ian in earnest.  “I have yet to give you reason to be, Angel.”

Ian’s smug smile was so wicked, that Duncan could imagine his proverbial halo rusting.  “Bring it,” he challenged.

Duncan exploded in a fury of motion, and despite the fact that Ian had been prepared for this reaction, he was almost too slow to react.  Luckily he was rested in comparison to the furious demon, and was able to fend off the attack.   Their wrestling ended with them both spilled onto the floor, with Ian back on top, Duncan pinned on his stomach below him.  

Ian leaned down and brushed his lips against Duncan’s ear.  “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.  He knew his friend well, and understood that he was ashamed of his reaction to the witch.  “I woke you as quickly as I could.”

Duncan took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.  Ian felt him relax and knew it would be safe to let him up.  He got to his feet, and watched in admiration as the hard body below him flexed as Duncan pushed himself off the floor.  

Duncan twisted around until he was sitting on the floor leaning against the bed.  He looked up at Ian with a wry smile.   “I’m sorry I’m an unappreciative bastard.”

Ian grinned, “Well, she was smokin’ hot.”

Duncan rolled his yes, but chuckled.  Not wanting to think about the witch, he decided to change the subject.  “I had to fire Lynette last night.”

Ian took the hint.  “Shit,” he grumbled.  “What happened?”

“Winston caught her stealing from the register.”

Ian sighed. “Was it at least for a good cause?”  He’d been the one to hire her.  When he’d found her begging on the street, he’d offered her the job.  She’d been starving, and he couldn’t help himself.  

“She smelled like heroine,” Duncan said softly.  He knew Ian liked to bring in strays and help them get on their feet.  That’s how they’d come to hire Winston, and the werewolf had been working for them for 15 years now.  He still felt a thrill of amazement at himself that he cared if Ian’s feelings were hurt by the failed projects.  He felt a twinge in his chest when Ian’s face fell in disappointment.  

Ian’s mouth quirked in a rueful smile, “Well, I tried.”  He turned away from Duncan and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a pair of green boxers.  

Duncan winced.  He shouldn’t have brought it up.  Now Ian would be depressed for days.  He got up and went over to where the angel was slowly getting dressed.  He wrapped his arms around Ian from behind and propped his chin on his shoulder.  “Hey,” he said softly.  “At least someone tried.  If you ever stop trying, then I’ll know I’ve failed.”

They both went still as they remembered Duncan’s promise so long ago.  Ian leaned his head to the side, until his temple touched the other man’s.  “It’s so hard sometimes,” he whispered.

“I know,” Duncan said just as quietly.  “I miss her too.”

Ian reached up and pressed his fingers to Duncan’s cheek affectionately.  He took a shuddering breath, and moved away to finish dressing.  “Will you be ok for another few days?” he asked in reference to the constant energy drain Duncan was dealing with.

Duncan nodded, and also moved to get dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans without bothering with underwear.  “Yes, if I keep busy I should be fine.”

Ian nodded.  “Good.  I’ll do some hunting this week and see if I can find her.”

Duncan grunted.  This witch was good to have kept herself hidden from Ian for so long. Duncan wanted to help with the hunt, but she was strong enough that if he left the wardings around their building he could feel the tug of the summoning spell increase tenfold.  Typically a witch needed to know his true name to affect him this strongly.  He was grateful that she didn’t, because he knew he’d be lost.  The bitch obviously didn’t need him because she was already powerful.  Only greed could be motivating her at this point.  

“Alright,” Duncan said.  “Good hunting.  I’m sick of this bitch, and I need a fucking nap.”

It was going to be a story about a witch falling in love with a demon, whose best friend was an angel posing as a human priest.  But I never got anywhere with it because the witch kept being ME and I didn’t want her to be.  And somewhere along the way, the relationship between the demon and the angel became more interesting, and those were the scenes I focused on more than anything.  I thought to myself, why not a poly fic?  But again, the female character was trying to be me, and I personally didn’t want to get with the male characters because I was far more fascinated with watching them be cute together.  This was looooooong before I knew what slash was, and I’d never read a fanfic in my life.  I didn’t know it was possible to write gay romance.  Weird, right?  

I’ve got probably 30k of scenes written for this story, but I know I’m never going to finish it.  Not in its original form.  But I might mine it for fic stuff someday.

After a while, I gave up on this story because I knew I wasn’t going to finish it.  Shortly after, I discovered fanfiction.  And the very next thing I wrote was Peace Begins With A Smile in early 2012.  It’s the first thing I ever finished, and nearly everything I’ve written since then is published on my AO3, so you can see where I went from here if you’ve been reading my stuff for a while :)

[endeavoring-doctor-blog]

Entry #2

Hello again. First things first, let me give you an update on my day so far. It’s only 4 PM, so who knows what might happen. It’s been an off-day, which is quite annoying seeing that yesterday was such an on (right?) day. I was so productive yesterday and feeling so awake and energized but today, anxiety was through the roof. I’m shaky, anxious, and have a general feeling of fogginess, like I’m floating through today in the clouds. I don’t feel 100% present because I just feel so confused in my own thoughts & irrational fears.  My first guess at this is because I just started to take vitamin supplements. Just a simple one-a-day women’s multivitamin with some magnesium and turmeric supplements on the side. I noticed yesterday that an hour or so after I took them, my energy sky-rocketed. I was a little uncomfortable at first, but I sort of eased into it and got my work done. Today however, it was a little too much. I felt super uneasy, restless, fatigued, and unable to concentration. It was almost as if I was going into some sort of manic state. I’m thinking it might be the B vitamins in the multivitamins that are making me feel a bit bonkers. I’m going to test this tomorrow by cutting my multivitamin in half and taking that with my magnesium and turmeric and see how that makes me feel. I’ve taken magnesium by itself before in the past and it never caused be any problems, so I have a feeling these vitamins might be the underlying issue. Readers, you’re going to have to get used to this. I tend to try and diagnose myself or try and figure out the underlying issues of my current-state-of-mind on my own. There’s no one that knows myself better than i do and being so constantly in my head all the time, I know when something isn’t right. With that being said, I love to analyze every crevice of my brain, personality, and everything about myself to better understand not only what the issue is but also to better understand myself as a whole.  This past year and a half has been a lot of that. A lot of self-reflection and figuring out exactly what makes me, me! It’s scary, but at the same time, very exciting. This feeling of uneasiness and restlessness led me to start pondering about the various irrational fears and stresses in my life. For example, I woke up this morning to me remembering the conversation I had with my boyfriend on the phone. It was a usual conversation, like any other, filled with lots of “i love you” and “i miss you” but then we started getting into finances. When he came up to visit this past weekend (we do long-distance even though we only live about 1 hour away from one another) and we just splurged. Needless to say, we spent a lot. He started discussing other job options that he could take and mentioned going back into restaurant-managing. As he said, if he were single, he’d go do it and make a lot more money that way. The words “if I was still single” resonated in my head like not other. The logical side of me knows that he didn’t mean he wished he were single or that this relationship was a burden to him, but my irrational side just wouldn’t have it this morning. All I could think about this morning was whether I was burdening him with our relationship or that he’d be better off without me because he would be spending less money, would think of himself rather than both of us, etc. I know these fears are irrational, HOWEVER, I am unable to stop thinking of them. The perks of anxiety am I right? Because I was already thinking of our financial topics talk, I began to stress about money. I don’t have a job, well kind-of. I walk dogs and pet-sit on the side to earn some form of income. I’ll be going to Vegas this weekend for my best-friends birthday and lets just say I have to be very stingy with my money. I have a couple of walking and house-sitting gigs coming up soon but they’ll be in the next 2 months, whereas I could really use the money like NOW. On-top of that, I also have to buy her a birthday present. This was brought to my attention when she told me about her wonderfully spent birthday yesterday, leaving me feel inadequate and that I have to do more for her. I was so happy to hear about her day and how well she spent it, but the conversation made me feel bad that I didn’t send her a package or something on her birthday and was waiting until I saw her in Vegas. Irrational thoughts again. Next came the wonderful stresses over school! Yay! My Favorite. I have a midterm coming up this week in my Physics of the Environment class. Let me remind you, I am NOT a physics major, I actually despise the subject (sorry) and my brain simply doesn’t understand it as well as it understands biology or other concepts. It’ll be open book, open laptop, open note, open EVERYTHING but I’m just scared I’ll have a huge brain-fart and just completely forget how to do any math! Hopefully it’s not too bad. On top of that, I have a group project in that class and having to manage my time during the week is difficult (because I’m almost always occupied every weekend).  And who could forget worrying about the future? Certainly not me. I’ll be taking the MCAT this summer after I complete my course and the idea of that test honestly scares the living shit out of me. Not only the content and the length of the exam, but the fact that it LITERALLY is my ticket to medical schools (at least through the primary application process). My GPA is not at the average 3.7-3.8 so my MCAT score is what’s going to be making me a competitive applicant. I’m scared to study for it, I’m scared to take it, and I’m scared that my score will not be good enough. Overall, I’m just scared. It’s a giant hurdle, no no, scratch that, a giant fucking WALL that I need to learn to park-core over or some shit. I know I can do it, I’m just scared. FINALLY, everyone is already getting post-grad jobs and everything! Meanwhile I have to still do my course and finish up two more classes in the Fall before even considering working anywhere. I know everyone is on different time-lines but I can’t help but compare myself to others I surround myself with and question whether I should be looking for a job too? So that’s it for my daily anxiety and worries. Onto more productive things! I’ve wanted to create a Goal List for the month of May. I used to create the bullshit “New Years Resolutions” but let’s be realistic here, you almost always forget those after a month or two. So let’s try and be realistic by taking it step by step, or in this case, one month at a time. By hopes in creating this is that when the month ends, I’ll be able to look back at my list, see which ones I’ve accomplished (or haven’t) and use that to brain-storm another set for the following month. So here goes. —————————————————————————————————- List of Goals for May 1. Eat healthier (seriously, stop snacking on junk food, resist!) 2. EXERCISE - Start running like you used to!  3. Practice breathing techniques; they’re not as stupid as you think they are 4. Draw at least one piece of artwork  5. Have a nightly face-washing & flossing routine 6. Create an MCAT study plan for the summer 7. Express yourself more; don’t hold it in and DO NOT be afraid of being “too much”  8. Call to check in with your parents & best-friends more, one simple call can make a HUGE difference 9. Write these entries at least once a day - keep writing it all out! 10. Continue to think of at least 3 things that make you happy throughout the day —————————————————————————————————- I think that’s enough for now, and in accordance with Goal #10, I’ll also put in my 3 happy things for today (even though I know the day is only half over). —————————————————————————————————- May 2nd; 3 Happy Things 1. Making a goals-list (that’s do-able) 2. Calling one of my best-friends from home to see how she was doing 3. The tree’s rustling in the wind and how beautiful they look —————————————————————————————————- Ahh. Officially done. Thank you.