#dont bother attacking me for that too

[princesstarfire1234]

TLDR: I fucking despise ship art and fanfics that infantilize Orion Pax / Optimus Prime

Okay so I just wanna put my thoughts out here right now because I've not seen many people talk about it and it honestly bothers me a lot...

So, it's no secret that I ship MegOp and stuff right? I like and have reblogged a bunch of art of them before and I will keep doing so, but something about how this place (or more certain parts of the fandom) portray the ship gives me major icks and I fucking hate it so much

Detailed thoughts under cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Case in point, a massive part of the TFP fanbase likes to ship Orion and Megatronus and I get that, I get why people like shipping those two but it's the WAY they do it. A lot, not all, but most of the fanart surrounding Orion Pax and Megatronus is him being like the smaller and more submissive one of the relationship which fine, whatever, but most people just end up drawing him REALLY small like ik he's shorter than Megs who was a gladiator and all that and he was an archivist but jesus christ... Aside the size which is weird and all but it's really all about the rampant infantilization of the guy. When they remove all agency from the character and act like Orion is gonna fucking combust the moment someone confronts him or tries to fight him like no... I've not read Exodus but I don't think Orion being a nerdy book guy is gonna make him THAT soft, this is still the same mech who became PRIME like cmon

I don't know the exact words for it other than "infantilization" but like y'know what I mean right?? I'm not gonna name blogs but there's this one AU on here where Orion is blind and it has this cutesy artstyle which is fine but I vividly remember reading a comic on that AU where some thugs confront Orion and he's all like sobbing and shit and has to be saved by someone and it's... so you made him disabled and also a crybaby and absolutely incapable of anything??? Does that NOT give you an ick of sorts or seem weird??? God I don't even know anymore because I've seen many people seem to like that so I'm just scared I'm the weird one and wrong for this lmfao... Maybe there's smthn im not getting, you tell me

Anyways this post is getting real long, but this kind of "infantilization" also applies to certain fanarts of TFA MegOp, I always thought the ship was bordering on kind of strange (since TFA Optimus is like the equivalent of some 20-something college dropout and Megatron is implied to have been doing the war stuff way way way back like Ratchet's time) but I won't get into that, I just don't ship that certain brand of the characters myself, but it's fine, do what you want with it. Just know that I have seen art of those two where they treat TFA Optimus as this sort of incapable cutesy uwu boy (aaaghh)

So yeah.... hahahaha stop infantilizing characters and taking a ship where they're both grown ass big men and like straight up turning the other one into some weird ass incapable version of the character that lacks any and all agency and honestly bordering on being really icky as fuck, thank you, idc if you make Optimus the bottom or whatever, that's not what I mean, cya ✌️

[kingjasnah]

Hi kingjasnah, can I ask why you don't post cosmere stuff very often anymore?

ummm ok sure. tbh the big nebulous reason is that it's not always easy to be a person of color in this space. i don't take a lot of what people say online seriously and I never have (which is probably why ive been on this blog so long), like im secure enough in my offline life to tbh not worry about it and my experience of these books is solely personal. which i recommend to everyone. but sure the last few years have been a little grating like i think there's a reason most of the mutuals of color i had in 2020 (and before) have um moved tf on as they say. im not going to expand on this LOL if you were here you know what i mean

the slightly chiller reason is just very simply that none of the releases since ROW have captured my interest as much? the ssps were cute but whatever. im personally not an era 2 person but i love a lore dump so lost metal was fun for that reason. when the next stormlight preview season starts I plan to be fully back on my bullshit I will be posting I will be keeping up with things I will be theorizing but I'm not here to do that 24/7 in the off season anymore

[sp4ceboo]

rant but im a bit scared im going to get attacked

[animentality]

you talk like a proshipper

i don't believe in censorship.

I also don't believe in the idea that people will read bad fanfiction and do bad things.

you guys got that order wrong. bad things happen, and they are reflected in fiction. people are allowed to discuss bad things that happen to themselves or others through their chosen medium.

as long as they don't bother a real person, who cares?

you motherfuckers are siding with conservatives on this bullshit.

there are no fucking thought crimes. you are not a bad person because you ship will and hannibal.

you are not a bad person because you wank it to toxic ass romances.

[flamboyant-king]

I had an Isaac run where it was so stressful my heartrate was at a 145bpm and it persisted for 6 hours. After that, like every day that followed, my heart would just suddenly shoot up to 120-140bpm for an hour if I so much as thought about something I've been stressing over recently. Everybody encouraging me to go to the ER. And I'm just like "Oh please I've actually always been like this, I'm fine." Had to chop down my Adderall dosage. But I swear I've felt like this since high school, but I guess the medicine enhances the feeling and that feeling was ANXIETY.

So, suffice to say, playing The Binding of Isaac™️ almost gave me a heart attack.

[crowtatoes]

sometimes i wonder if other people with anxiety have the same strange over-fabricated reasons behind being afraid of things.

some are reasonable: anxious about being annoying to people because then they won't want to interact with me.

not logical (i know my friends are very good and won't throw me aside for being annoying on accident) but normal enough.

and then there's

"i can't have people be angry or annoyed with me because what if it becomes an obsession of theirs and they stew on it for years to the point it drives them insane and then they hunt me down and kill me"

"i cannot have any kind of fame because then people will know i exist and the more people who know i exist the more chance there is for someone to become obsessed with me or enraged with me or annoyed with me and hunt me down to kill me"

"I cannot wish for anything ever because then a monkey's paw somewhere will hear me, start rolling like the Chef Boyardee tin in the commercial towards me, hunt me down, and kill me."

[ashmp3]

not to be insensitive (i will be) but making plans with anxious people is so annoying like why are u having a panic attack on a walk omfg keep it to yourself i dont even wanna go out now u and ur panic attack killed my mood

[jeysbvck]

oh tony khan can fuck off honestly.

yes wwe is not perfect & has its own shit & accusations, but to go on national tv & call wwe "the harvey weinstein of pro wrestling" when chris jericho, ric flair & a number of other people with accusations (including one person who a few years ago said he'd rape mercedes) is really disgusting & truly tasteless. especially with the news about harvey weinstein in the past couple of days.

[trans-estinien]

its so wild seeing how non mmo players exist and well. i dont like it!

[theslowpath]

Saying you like a character despite them being "overrated" is such a backhanded compliment ill be honest

[10yearsatleast]

This made me giggle out loudly.

Oh sure Levi is gay because you, an anon who doesn't even have the guts to say this to the person directly, know the character more than anyone and can't let people just enjoy what they like because your ego can't take different interpretations.

Like tell me you're narrow-minded without telling me you're narrow-minded lol.

you're embarrassing writing levi fucking women when he is gay

[saturngas]

hickeys on display

[🪐] satoru wears proudly the hickeys you left on him last night

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: established relationship; only one suggestive paragraph; crack fic? again me trying to be funny; nanami mentioned!; slight possessive traits;

word count: 1k

..

nanami sometimes pitied you. you were a good human being, a nice woman, a devoted and strong sorcerer. but why did the world reward you with this menace that calls itself satoru?

the moment his eyes landed on the tall sorcerer walking in the bakery shop, nanami swore he wanted to throw himself off the window.

satoru had convinced him to go out to his favorite bakery shop to spend time while his beautiful wife returned from the mission. the blonde man actually didn't have any other plans for the day, so he could bare a couple of hours with the strongest.

but not like this.

Japanese culture revolved in humbleness and respect towards others. satoru was anything but that. he had gained multiple stares since he landed on the bakery, all eyes focused on the angry marks on his attractive neck and collarbones.

"what happened to you? were you attacked on your way here?" nanami asked sarcastically as satoru sat down in front of him.

"what do you mean, nanamin?" he faigned ignorance as he adjusted himself on his sit, his large hands fidgeting with the menu. nanami sent him a dead stare, not believing his cluelessness. "oh this?" he pointed to his exposed skin. "oh it's just that I miss my wife so much. I also want anyone to know im so taken."

Nanami couldn't believe his ears. he wanted to choke the hell out of the sorcerer for being so shameless.

"your ring is sufficient."

satoru eyed the silver band adorning his ring finger, the lovely reminder of your wedding playing on his head. "well, yeah I guess... but people dont usually look at other's people hands first."

the curious and judgmental stares from the strangers in the store were making nanami a bit uncomfortable. maybe he should just have his baguette as a take out.

"nanamin, have you ordered yet? I think ill have the strawberry cheesecake and a vanilla milkshak— what are you doing?"

in front of him was nanami holding up his phone, hands ready to take a picture of satoru as an evidence to you and a reminder to him to never go out with him again.

"im sending your wife a picture of you. I hope she doesn't approve this and takes you home away from people." as soon as satoru heard the mention of his wife, he stood taller in his sit, puffing out his hard chest, his exposed bruised neck more on display as a boyish grin struck his face.

"haha, okie~" a fit of giggles left his lips that made nanami exhale the hardest he had that evening. "please tell her I miss her and that I love her with all my heart."

come get your husband. he has no shame.

your phone buzzed in your pocket as a final puff left the remaining of the curses you just have exorcized. you checked the message sent by a good friend of yours, nanami. you couldn't help but laugh.

since you were called for a quick mission not too far from tokyo, poor satoru was left alone without his pretty wife. he insisted on going with you, however you reminded him of the house chores he had been avoiding the past weeks.

your husband had a habit of sending you recurrent messages whenever you were away. it could be him on a mission overseas sending you pictures of himself in every angle just to crack a smile on your face. or it could be him spamming you on texting him back if you left him on read by accident.

right now, it had been around thirty minutes since satoru had informed you he had finished his duties, sending you visual proof—he would often get away with it—and a dozens of messages declaring he missed you and was miserable without you, so he let you know he would be visiting nanami, probably because there wasn't anyone within his range he could bother.

what you didn't expect was the photo attached to nanami´s previous message.

satoru was sitting in a booth—probably in some bakery shop—with one of the biggest grins you had seen on his angelic face. his baby blue eyes were covered by his rectangular glasses and his white hair was a bit messy.

but what immediately caught your attention wasn't his toothy grin or his perfect jawline—it was the shameless exposure of his bare neck, where purple and red marks decorated the pale skin of his collarbones, neck, and trapezius.

the night before was a night. satoru made you feel so full that your eyes were at one point covered in tears of pleasure, your jaw as tight as ever as you took all of him so well. the carnal heat inside you was boiling and daring to explote, so you released it with snug bites on satoru's skin, anywhere within your range, making him groan and hiss in painful arousal. there were moments where you would almost chew on the rosy skin to suppress the loud moans. satoru took good care of you. but now?

your husband deliberately decided to wear that low collar sweatshirt you loved so much. but not right now! how was he so uncaring about showing the entire world your marital business?

a sighed left your lips as you replied to nanami with an "im coming," before departing your way to the place, already having the directions since satoru left his location on with you all the time.

"please dont ever do this, toru."

"then dont give me these hickeys! and dont leave me alone too much! I need to remind myself you still exist, baby."

"I was done with my mission in like two hours!"

"oh wow, you are getting stronger pookie bear."

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks

hello guysss, im working on other works because I have like so many ideas but it's kinda hard to write them all the way I want to. im also working on pt 2 of some works some of y'all have suggested. bare with me alr :]

[veggiesxxx]

POV: You spend time with a guy "behind their back." (Part 2/4)

(reader is NOT cheating!!)

ft. Jealousy, fluff,

Sylus

Your phone buzzed, interrupting your conversation with your friend.

"And then, it started charging up it's attack-"

"Ugh, sorry. Somebody's spamming me." you mumbled, rolling your eyes, reaching to turn your phone over on the table, screen face down so you wouldn't have to look at the relentless messages.

"As I was saying-"

You tried to continue, only to hear your notifications blow up even faster, the buzzing incessant. You were convinced that if you didn't reply, your phone would combust in the middle of the café.

"Sorry. I've got to check this," you sighed, picking up your phone, lazily going to see who was the contact spamming you relentlessly.

"Sweetie who is that." "Is he bothering you?" "sweetie?" "Are you hurt? is he threatening you." "Y/N." "If u dont reply im coming over" "Why did you turn ur phone around." "Kitten who is he?"

Scrolling through the barrage of texts, your brows furrowed, immediately becoming suspicious. Sylus? How did...

You looked up, gazing intently at any pipes on the ceiling or dark corners a certain mechanical spy could be hiding. Knowing Sylus, and what to look for, it made finding the problematic Mephisto a lot easier. Your frown deepened, as the bird noticed you glaring at it. As if sensing your glare, the robot flapped its wings, cawing loudly. A customer walked into the café at that moment, and the bird cawed a final time, making it's presence known, returning your glare before taking the chance to fly out the open door before the owner chased it out. Poor man who walked in had to duck the diving 'bird' as it soared into whatever shadows outside.

After witnessing that 'spectacle', you turned your attention back to the phone in your hands, immediately tapping your thumbs on the screen, sending a reply to the spammer.

"Sylus? Why are you suddenly spying on me- in Linkon??" "I saw Mephisto. How long have you been watching me?" "No! Don't come!! I'm fine!"

You started to panic, heart sinking, frantically texting back so Sylus didn't appear and do something drastic-

"It's a bit too late for that, kitten. look up."

'What-?" You didn't get to snap out of the baffled daze before you felt a hand on your shoulder, and a rather threatening, unmistakable presence towering over you. You froze up, embarrassed that he was having this fit in front of your friend.

You glanced up at the Onychinus's big boss, your gaze following his— which was locked dangerously onto the man sitting opposite you.

"Sweetie, let's go." He snapped his eyes back onto you, his voice laced with not-so-subtle possessiveness and suppressed irritation, not leaving much room for argument. Sylus was obviously in one of his 'fits'.

Sighing, you shook your head in exasperation, getting up. You quickly apologised to your friend, shooting him a "sorry about him" glance. Sylus didn't wait for your pleasantries to be exchanged. In his eyes, getting you away from the other man was something to be done immediately.

Once outside the café, pulled by the hand, you confronted Sylus for his abrupt interruption of your peaceful lunch. "Seriously? You couldn't have waited for my answer? I replied in less than 5 minutes..."

"You turned the phone over." He asserted, like it was some important evidence. He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow, not a hint of any teasing smirk on his face. This was serious, you noted mentally. In your head, it wasn't a big deal�� he'd seen you flip the phone over multiple times when notifications became too annoying– but if he actually felt that this situation was significant...

"I did. Still, you know it's nothing- I do it all the time."

"Not to me. You always answer."

That.. was true. You never did ignore his messages.

"But you turned me away. For him." He continued, and you could swear you've never seen him so serious. Never.. not since your first meeting. "I thought something happened. Mephisto doesn't record audio." his voice was low, however, it couldn't hide the trace of vulnerability. Like he was trying to pretend he was this concerned because he thought you were unsafe with an unarmed man, rather than just afraid of losing you.

"Nothing happened, I'm fine, Sylus." you murmured, putting your hand over his, uncrossing his arms for him. You gently squeezed his hand, not really wanting to let him off the hook yet. "He's my friend. Just a friend,"

"Friend or not. He can't have what's mine.'

Your cheeks flushed, not expecting him to express or even acknowledge his own feelings so openly. You didn't look up at him, and he was glad for that- so he could hide his red ears.

"Overprotective, much?"

His solemn eyes raised, missing their usual glimmer of mirth, meeting yours, tilting his head, and a piece of his hair bobbed against his forehead.

“Call it what you want, sweetie. I'll always be here to watch over you.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile. As infuriating as Sylus could be, his unwavering devotion had a way of making you feel safe—even when he went overboard.

“Fine, fine,” you gave in with a sigh. “But next time, just call me instead of sending your creepy bird, or yourself.”

Sylus’ smirk came back faintly, more like a relieved smile. “No promises.”

"I'm proud of you, though, kitten. You spotted Mephisto faster than I thought you would. How'd you learn that?"

"Yeah.. because all pipes have glowing red eyes.." you said, sarcasm slipping out.

"...Wait. Did you say next time?" His gaze grew more intense, eyeing you down.

"No next time. I'll snap his neck." He hissed, gripping your hand tighter in his.

"You keep those sharp eyes on me, sweetie. Where they belong."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧༶

Hope you enjoyed!! Pls leave a note if u liked yay

Next :

╰┈➤ Zayne/Xavier (Part 3/4) -voted below-

Previously :

╰┈➤ Rafayel (Part 1/4)

A/N: I don't know if this is too long lmao

Tags: @cordidy @liz9898 @crystalfay

[harumasa-wifey]

i dont know if you still accept harumasa requests but, hear me out on swatching lipstick colors and then give harumasa bunch of kisses on his face while leaving bunch of colorful marks

Harumasa x Fem! Reader

Warning: slightly suggestive,fluff and lots of kissing. Not proofread

Note: i see what you did there and now you are responsible for what's about to happen anon/j. I'm not gonna ignore how the docs tried to correct my snacks to snakes like buddy you sure that is it? I post in the middle of the night like I got some rent due ( I don't even live in a rented house) but anyways i really wanna kiss this man XOXO

He was lazing around on his desk when he heard footsteps enter the office. The footsteps didn't bother him but the sound of sweet laughter surely did. He knows that voice by heart it was you. He quickly looked up to see you walking in the office with yanagi while holding two bags.(Confused puppy mode activated)

He glanced at the brand name and understood it was some cosmetic after all yanagi promised to take you on a shopping spree today. How could he forget? She got to her desk which was in front of him happily greeting him.

“Oh well morning to you harumasa, were you sleeping?” he yawned, stretching back and giving her a lazy smile genuinely feeling happy seeing her first thing after his nap, he peeked into the bag asking. “Well hello there beautiful where ya been?” she was about to answer but got interrupted by soukaku who ran around in circles around her.

“Oh oh oh?! What's in those bags! Is it snacks!” they asked, feeling enthusiastic as ever. “Well not quite but I do have snacks for you, oh and also give this calligraphy brush to miyabi for me please?” She said while handing Soukaku one of the bags from the desk which the oni happily took and ran away then she turned towards a pouting harumasa. “How could you forget about your own boyfriend, I see this is it for me, you don't want me anymore” he said while leaning back on his seat dramatically. She glared at him. “ Of course I'll never forget about my lovely partner, it would be disastrous. Stop being dramatic, I am sure you can wait a little more” she said while turning towards the bangboo who was offering her some papers. He looked at her confused. “What do you mean wait? What are you trying to give? Hello?? Am I being ignored?” She silently collected the papers and went to give them to yanagi. After a long day's work they were walking back home. He was thankful he escaped yanagi’s overtime today after skipping through paperwork.

He walked beside her holding her hand.

He turned to her and asked “ sure you wanna stay over?”

“You don't want me to?”She asked while masking her face with sadness.

“Wait wait wait wait do not attack me like that i would never say no to you!” He said rasing his hands up , she then smiled. “ Well there is no problem” she said happily entering his room as he followed after her closing the room.

“My do you not live in here or something” she said looking around.

“Well i warned you” everything was organised as if someone hasn't visited for two days because of the hospital appointments. She put her bag down and took out a box. “Guess what i have”

He looked at the box “a lipstick pack? Woha that's a whole set” he said while removing his bandana and falling in the bed while she opened the box while humming a tune besides him.” Would you choose a colour for me?” She looked up at him smiling and showing him the box. He thought for a while before picking on the lighter side. She picked the one he choose and tried it on. “Hmm does this look any good?”

Which he replied to “ of course duh i don't think you need it tho” she glanced at him across the mirror. “ I think i have another way to test it” he tilted his head then suddenly she pulled him into a kiss. His hands around her waist while she was on his lap. She broke the kiss and looked at the Mark around his lips.

“Well this colour is too light lemme try another” she said picking out a darker shade then kissing him on his cheek leaving another mark. It's been about 5 mins and 10 different shades with more 10 to go and his face and neck covered in different lipstick marks with his shirt buttons undone. “Hmm I can't find the one I like, you must be bored by now”

He shaked his head sideways and whispering in a low husky voice. “Go on.” She leaned in again leave new marks over his lips and collarbones.

Don't blame him if he sleeps in your arms this will the most peaceful he has ever been. Well he won't blame you either if the marks don't wash off with just water in the morning. He might try to get a sick leave. More like love sick leave.

[gf2bellamy]

hiii!

i was wondering if you could write spencer x reader, where she’s having a really bad day but spencer is coming home from a case and is exhausted, mentally and physically so she feels guilty that she would bother him with her mood

So she just hides away and is on the verge of a panic attack and spencer finds her and is all “you save me, so pls let me save you” and just comforts her (and calls her angel because 🫠)

thankyouuu so much (you dont have to do it if you dont want! no pressure at all!) i love your writing, it’s so incredibly cute and endearing <3

exhaustion — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader crying a lot , reader feeling guilty / tired / exhausted, spencer calls reader angel a/n: hii thank you so much for your request !! i hope you like this <3

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, staring blankly at the empty space in front of you. The TV was off, the big overhead light was off, and the only light came from the small lamp on the side table.

You hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, your mind swirling with the events of the day. It had been one of those days—the kind where nothing went right, where every little thing seemed to pile up until you felt like you were drowning under the weight of it all. 

You missed Spencer. A lot. Especially right now.

He had a way of making everything feel better. You longed for his comforting hugs and the way he’d listen to you ramble about your day.

But he wasn’t here. He was at work, buried under mountains of paperwork and case files.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, your heart leaping in your chest as you hurried to the door.

Spencer stepped inside, looking disheveled and exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his bag by the door with a heavy thud, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into a tight hug. 

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. He smelled like coffee and faintly of paper. For a moment, you just stood there, holding each other.

“I missed you,” Spencer mumbled into your hair, his voice muffled but sincere. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to let go, but after a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed gently over your cheeks.

“Today was horrible,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he let go of you to shrug off his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, looking more tired than you’d seen him in a long time. 

You bit your lip, hesitating. “What happened?” you asked softly, following him as he moved further into the apartment. 

He sighed again, sinking onto the couch and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Just… paperwork. So much paperwork. And then Garcia’s computer crashed, so we lost half the files we needed, and Hotch wanted everything reorganized by tomorrow morning…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was just one thing after another.” 

You sat down next to him, your heart aching as you watched him. He looked so drained, so unlike his usual self, and you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about burdening him with your own problems.

Today had been hard for you, but it sounded like it had been even harder for him. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. 

So instead of talking about your day, you reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That sounds awful.” 

He gave you a small, tired smile, his fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s okay. It’s just… one of those days, you know?” 

You nodded, your throat tightening. You did know.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Instead, you shifted closer, pulling him into another hug. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“How was your day?” Spencer mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy as he leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him.

You settled against his side, his head still resting on your shoulder as your fingers continued to gently card through his hair.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment, your hand stilling briefly before you forced yourself to keep moving. 

“It was… good,” you said, your voice carefully neutral. You tried to inject a note of cheerfulness into your tone, but it came out sounding hollow, even to your own ears. 

Spencer hummed against your shoulder, seemingly too tired to notice the slight falter in your voice. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his words muffled as he nuzzled closer to you. His warmth was comforting, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest. 

After a moment, he shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before slowly sitting up. “I’m going to get changed,” he said, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before standing and heading toward the bedroom, leaving you alone on the couch. 

As soon as he was out of sight, the lump in your throat returned, thicker and more suffocating than before. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill all evening.

But it was no use. The dam broke, and before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, hurrying toward the bathroom. 

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning against it as the first tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another.

Soon, you were crying , your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. You muttered curses under your breath, frustrated with yourself for not being able to hold it together. 

“Get it together,” you whispered harshly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The tears kept running, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

You felt like a mess, your face hot and your chest tight. But just as you were about to try to pull yourself together, you heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock. 

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. “Can I come in?” 

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t know what to do. Part of you wanted to tell him to go away, to spare him from seeing you like this, but another part of you desperately needed him.

You muttered a curse under your breath, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before slowly getting to your feet. 

You opened the door just enough to peek out, your eyes meeting Spencer’s. He was standing there, his expression soft but worried. His hair was still a mess, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. 

“Hey, hey,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I—” you started, but your voice broke, and you shook your head, unable to continue.

How could you even begin to explain? Everything was wrong. The entire day had been wrong, and now you felt like you were falling apart. 

Spencer didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, wiping away a tear. His touch was so tender that it only made you cry harder.

“Come on,” he said softly, his hand slipping down to take yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling you with him, leading you out of the bathroom and down the hallway. 

You followed him numbly, your fingers intertwined with his as he guided you to the bedroom. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. 

“Talk to me, angel,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?” 

The nickname made your heart ache, and you shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You had such a bad day, and I didn’t want to make it worse.” 

Spencer’s expression softened, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You could never make my day worse,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And you’re never a bother. Not to me. Not ever.” 

You shook your head again, your hands gripping his wrists as you tried to steady yourself. “But you were so tired, and I didn’t want to—” 

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You save me, I save you. That’s how this works, remember?” 

You nodded slowly, your breath hitching as more tears spilled over by just hearing those sweet words. Spencer leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You went willingly, burying your face in his shoulder as he held you close. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you felt some of the tension in your chest begin to ease. After a while he slowly let go, but his hands remaining on your arms.

“Tell me about your day,” he said after a while, his voice soft but insistent. “What happened?” 

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—so patient, so understanding—made it impossible to hold back. So you told him. You told him about everything that had gone wrong.

And he listened, his hands never leaving yours, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

When you were done, he pulled you into his arms again, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. But I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.” 

You nodded, your face buried in his shoulder as you clung to him. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. 

Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Always, angel,” he said softly. “Always.” 

[chiacanwritesometimes]

everybody adores you, at least i do.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

based on “everybody adores you (quiet)” by matt maltese :)

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

authors note: i wrote this after listening to ^^^ on repeat, god i love matt maltese. there are scenes of alcohol intake, a panic attack and brief self harm. please dni if these topics bother, trigger, or make you uncomfortable. this was a pretty long drabble, hope you enjoy :D

============

you can act all shy, but you know that i want you.

you aren’t one for flattery, that much was obvious. every time bucky took the time to compliment you, he knew what your next words would be. like clockwork, you would turn red, look away, and sheepishly mutter, “thanks”. you fiddled with your hands, and quickly changed the subject. how desperately he wanted to hold your hands, and kiss them. for years, he pined over you, and you’ve always been almost at his grasp. these past couple of weeks though, it seemed to hit you, that he wanted you.

in the dead of night, i want to live with you.

it all started three years ago, after everyone came back from the blip. people were everywhere, and it seemed that all the noise that lacked from the world came back in an instant. after realizing what happened to you, your environment and your home, you couldn’t help but laugh. how comical, that it seemed like nothing changed. your family hadn’t contacted you, well, the distant family that you still had. you walked to a bar in the hazy hours of the night, and met him. some guys were bothering him about his glove, but he seemed unaffected. he just stared ahead, and drank his whiskey. you devised a plan, to distract the assholes and to maybe introduce yourself. you didn’t want to seem like you were trying to pick him up, but you were trying to make friends in this new world. you asked the bartender quietly to escort the two loud drunks out, and sat down next to him. you didn’t think you’d get this far, so you were at a loss on what to say. did people still talked the same five years later? of course they did, but how do you navigate yourself into talking? your thoughts piled up, and they kept piling up, until his gruff voice interrupted them.

“thanks.” he grumbled quietly.

“hm?” you didn’t catch what he said, as you were too distracted. he cleared his throat.

“i said thanks. for the, yeah.” he pointed to the two men outside. he wasn’t much for words, you realized. you sighed in relief and nodded.

“yeah, dont sweat it.”

he offered to walk you home, as a sign of gratitude. it amused you both that you lived in the same building. small world. you invited him inside, but he hesitated.

“we can take a rain check, if you’d like. ill write you my number.” you assured him, and walked inside to grab a post it. what were you doing? giving a stranger your number? you put those thoughts to rest as you wrote your number.

he awkwardly waited at the half open door. he was glad to have made a…friend? he didn’t know what to call you yet, but he was sure to catalogue you at the back of his mind to let his witch of a therapist know. over the next couple of weeks, you had began to know him better. he had a cat, alpine. he had a past that he wasn’t open to sharing. his apartment was empty, almost ready to be left without a tenant at any moment. he froze at your touch, so you made a mental note to not do that. what a strange person. you knew he disappeared during the blip as well, but you felt as if he had lost more than five years.

so terrified of the road that takes you, me too.

a year had passed for your friendship. you came to his apartment, unexpected, and brought two little cupcakes with candles on them.

“what’s this?” he asked, a little embarrassed to be touched by such a small little gesture.

“its our friendship anniversary, goofy.”

“do we sing happy birthday, or what?” you paused. you weren’t sure, you didn’t really think of singing.

“um, we can have toasts if you’d prefer that. yes, toasts! ill get the glasses.” you sprung to your feet and gracefully navigated yourself in his small kitchen. you had spruced up his place a little, buying him hand towels, candles, and little trinkets that make a house a home, or rather, an apartment into a cozier place to live. you brought the two flutes, and filled them with champagne. he frowned.

“that is definitely not mine.”

“i brought it to celebrate, we need something fancy.” he rolled his eyes, but went along to your little celebration. he sat on his couch and observed you placing the cupcakes on the coffee table, and as you passed him his glass.

“ill go first. um…” you didn’t want to admit that you had started liking him, so you decided to say general statements.

“i hadn’t had a friend since, high school? maybe…so thank you for letting me be yours. err, friend, that is. to many more.” you clinked your glass with his, and motioned for him to go next.

“my last friend died a year ago. you haven’t died yet, so cheers to that.” he said dryly, with a little smile on his face. he thought he was so funny. he clinked his glass with yours, and drank the liquid. you rolled your eyes and mirrored him.

you started watching a movie with him, but you weren’t really paying attention. he started to accept your touch more and more, and you watched the movie with your head leaning on his shoulder. he leaned his head on yours, and tried his best to not move, so as to not bother you. the second act of the movie was commencing, and he had something on his mind. he had to fess up eventually about who he is- who he was, that is. someone he no longer was, someone he despised so vehemently.

“doll?” he tested the waters. he started calling you that, a reminder of how much of a casanova he was when he was in high school. you protested but eventually let him continue calling you that, as it was more effort telling him to stop than you cared to give.

“mm?” you hummed softly, half asleep.

“i wasn’t joking about my toast.”

“i didn’t think you were. you don’t have to talk about it if you don-“

“i want to talk about it.”

you paused. this was rare. you didn’t know what to think, so you gave him the space to talk.

“there’s a reason i’m always wearing this glove, you know.”

“yeah, circulation problems.” you joked, but he didn’t laugh.

“doll, i was born in 1917.”

“…” you sat up. “what? james, you’re not being funny right now.”

he continued tentatively.

“my name is james buchanan barnes and i was born in march 10, 1917.” he recited as if giving a memorized speech, his monotone words hitting you, syllable by syllable.

“i was forced to be the winter soldier, and i was framed for the U.N bombing.” your facial expression must’ve hinted that you put the pieces together, and he stopped.

“and, yeah. i have a metal arm.” he added almost rushed, he wanted to explain that part as well. he gave you space to fully digest everything.

“so…your friend that died was…” he nodded.

“steve rogers.” he finished for you.

“wow.” you didn’t know what to say, you just sat there. everything made so much sense now, why he always wore a glove, why he never had any pictures of friends or family, nothing. suddenly, you smiled.

“doll?” he looked confused. your best friend admitted to lying about his identity to your face for a year, and you’re…smiling?

“the first friend i made in ten years is someone who’s older than me by eighty years.” you giggled.

“i don’t- you’re not mad?” his brain short circuited. you’re not responding the way he thought you would’ve. you shook your head.

“i mean, what kind of friend am i for you not to be able to trust me with that? yeah, im a little blindsided, but i understand. i still see you as my friend.”

he didn’t know what to do. tears threatened to fall.

“pay attention to this part, its my favorite.” you leaned back to your original position, as if nothing happened. you offered your hand, and he took it.

don't modify, every one adores you, at least i do.

“dont look at me like that.” you said, a little tipsy. you had been friends with him for two years now, and you had invited him over to your apartment, for new year’s. you both didn’t really have any plans, or friends, for that matter. of course, he had sam, but sam was with his sister for the new year. he had barged into your apartment with a six case of beer on him, and two little paper hats saying, “happy new year!”. how adorable. you weren’t dressed up, gracing yourself with an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. you sat on the couch with your legs on his lap, his flesh hand holding his beer and his metal hand holding you. he traced small circles on your calves, which felt really intimate. you’re grateful he used his metal hand, because you weren’t sure what you would’ve done if he used his skin to tease you so.

“like what?” he asked. his tone was quiet, his eyes searching for permission in yours. permission for what?

“like you want to kiss me.”

“and what if i do?” there it was. you didn’t want to ruin any friendship you still had left after he threw that bombshell. you paused and looked away. you took another sip of your beer.

“i’m afraid i’ll have to decline your advances.” you quietly said. its not that you didn’t love him, but it all felt so wrong. the only reason he wanted to kiss you was because it was the new year, and that stupid fucking tradition.

“you know i could get lost in those eyes. i’d trip over my words trying to find my way back.” he admitted. he really did love you. god, he loved you.

“if you keep looking at me like that, i might think that you have a crush on me.” you teased, face red. from the intimacy or from the alcohol? you weren’t sure, maybe it was both.

“and what if i did?”

“bucky…” you sighed. you sat up and moved your legs away from him.

“i mean it. would that be such a crime?” he leaned his body towards you. you noticed that his cheeks had their own hue of red, and his eyes felt unsure.

“bucky.” you cut him off. you didn’t know what to say. its not like you could say, “i dont want you to kiss me for new year’s, because i want you to kiss me for real.” you didn’t know what to say, so you just shook your head slightly. he nodded, stood up, and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“i understand.” he whispered into your ear. you bit your lip, this was the friendliest he had ever been towards you, and you only wished for more. he smiled softly and said,

“happy new year, y/n.”

right where the black wood sighs, i look at you, through and through.

your birthday was coming up, and he decided to surprise you. he researched thoroughly about forests located next to you, and found the one. things had been a little rough post new year’s eve, but your connection through knowing who he was kept the friendship close. you soon were back to your old self, but remained a bit guarded.

your birthday was today. you hadn’t received any messages from him, so you felt a bit let down. you sighed throughout the day as you kept checking. suddenly, around 2 in the afternoon, he knocked on your door with a basket in hand, and flowers in the other.

“happy birthday, doll.”

it’s safe to say that you spent the rest of your day very content, and impressed at the picnic he had organized.

right where your father died I'll hold on to your hand.

you don’t remember much from your father, other than the fact that he died early in your youth. you detested seeing children with both their parents with them, even as an adult. you felt jealous, angry at your father for dying. you knew it wasn’t your fault, but still. you occasionally visited his grave, and the place where he passed on. it was a rainy day, the day he went with you. you asked him to go, as you weren’t feeling so well. he obliged.

the downpour matched the dreary mood, and as you stood near the bench he died on, a bench he felt was familiar. he started to panic, thinking that somehow he was the one responsible for the death of your father, wondering if you taking him here was some sort of ploy to avenge your father.

“he got caught in the crossfire of a crime.” you admitted. “police were chasing this guy, and he meant to shoot the…” you trailed off. he knew what you were trying to say and he nodded. he sighed, partly from the mood and partly from relief that he wasn’t the one that took him from you. you took his hand and held it. he squeezed your hand, and rubbed circles on your knuckles.

“thank you.” what an odd thing for him to say to you, but you knew that he meant for taking him to a place so sacred to you.

“now we’re even.” you smiled at him. no more secrets about the past.

so terrified of the road that takes you, me too.

panic attacks didn’t hit him often. it was around two weeks since his last one, and it wasn’t something he wasn’t thinking of at the time, until now.

he spent so much time at your place, so much in fact, that some of his mail correspondence was sent to your place by the mailman. how silly. he was over for some random dinner, and conversed with you as you cooked. you were making spicy chicken alfredo, or something along those lines. he didn’t really pay attention, he only focused on you. he noticed how fluid you were in the kitchen, as if you were dancing. when he thought you were going to run into a cabinet, you moved away just in time. wether that be for your reflexes or by chance, he wasn’t sure. he had shared with you a couple vinyls, a way of sharing his past with you. he hummed along to the smooth voice of ella fitzgerald, until you interrupted the noise with a yelp of pain. he turned to you, and noticed you had cut your finger with the knife, which confirmed to him that in fact, the reason you didn’t run into cabinets was by chance, maybe some guardian angel working overtime. he kissed your finger, and walked to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. everything was going so well, too. its just a small setback. until, he came back.

you looked to be covered in blood everywhere, with a heavy concentration on your torso. there was a gunshot in your stomach area, and you hunched over the cabinet for support. at least, that is what he saw. in reality, you leaned on the cabinet, waiting for him. his heart dropped and his eyes scanned you so worriedly. he ran to you, inspected your arms, your eyes, your neck, your stomach. your confused expression felt almost like daggers at him, and he started hyperventilating. he felt hands all around him, suffocating him. he knelt to the ground, gasping for air. his hair started clinging to his forehead, his clothes suddenly felt too tight, the air felt too hot, his metal arm too familiar. did he do this? he kept thinking. he heard a voice, his voice, but different. it was him.

“of course you did this.” he said, full of poison. tears fell down his eyes, and they kept falling, even when he shut them so tightly. he clawed at his metal arm, at his reminder of who he was.

you tried your best to make him realize that you were there, and in fact, not dead. no matter your volume, he couldn’t hear you. he was rocking back and forth, and you kneeled to his eyeline.

“bucky?” you kept saying. you kept repeating, kept trying to open his eyes, move his hand from hurting his shoulder. soon, your hands were stained with the blood drawn from where metal met skin. you sat with him, and listened to his cries. you didn’t know what to do, he hadn’t discussed panic attacks with you, so you weren’t sure if you could hold him or not. you decided to take a risk and rub his back, and lean your head on top of his. a few minutes were spent like that, his quiet sobs filling the apartment. eventually, he calmed down enough to the point of hugging you, and whispered “i’m sorry”. that’s all he said, and he kept saying it. his face was nuzzled into your neck, and he kept saying that. your hands held him tightly, your own tears falling as well. he stopped hurting himself, but seeing him in this state broke your heart. you knew why seeing you bleeding affected him so badly. he didn’t often tell you of all the people he killed, but when he did, he was always filled with immense grief. you’d always remind him that it wasn’t really him, and that he didn’t have body autonomy. those words, although comforting, felt like a lie. he was scared you believed differently, thought of him differently. your words and your touch remained the same, though. after his panic subsided, you led him to the sink, and washed his hands. you cleaned his wounds, and wrapped them with gauze. you asked him to stay at your place, and he accepted. you set his bed, and gave him some spare clothing you had. he sat down next to you, and watched you lay down, before looking at you. his blue eyes looked into yours, asking for permission. you held your arms up, and he instantly moved. he laid on top of you, almost tentatively. you ran your fingers through his hair, and he adjusted himself on top of you, holding your waist. no words were exchanged.

you two never spoke of that moment.

don’t modify, every one adores you, at least i do.

three years had passed since you first crossed paths, and he wanted to be the one to initiate the celebration. he didn’t know how surprise you, you two had already done a lot of things. picnics, dinners, sleepovers. he realized he needed to buy a gift. what should he get you? you already had enough jewelry, you always went thrift shopping with him, and you seemed pretty content with everything you had. it clicked in his mind. he got you a photo album for your pictures, and a star projector, showing how the stars looked like on the day you first met. he felt nervous, he hadn’t felt this close to someone in a while, and he was scared to ruin it.

you spent the anniversary gushing over your gift, and kept complimenting him throughout that night. his fears for being a bad friend were eased.

everybody has you up on their wall sometimes.

he wasn’t one for photography. his walls were bare, aside from the decorations you bought for him. you, however, loved your polaroid camera. you took pictures of anything you deemed important, like meeting someone with a similar outfit to yours, a cat you saw on the street, and him. you deemed him important, and he had to pretend like that wasn’t the biggest compliment ever. he had to pretend that every time you snapped a picture of him, he wasn’t blushing so hard, and how he loved being your muse. he started putting more effort into his appearance, so you would take more pictures. you noticed, of course you noticed. you had to keep a solid stream of film. one day, he held your camera. he often wondered how you saw the world, and seeing the little window in the polaroid camera made him smile. you were comically posing in the couch, giggling with every new pose. he clicked away, happily. he then sheepishly asked for a serious picture, for his new collection. well, your picture would be the first in the collection. how fitting, that you would be the one to star in the little joy you shared with him. your face flushed a bit as you sat up and smiled softly at him. he swallowed his nervousness, and took the picture. as he let it develop, he walked away, leaning on the wall. he didn’t want to let you see how red he was. you didn’t know if you were friends or not. of course, you were friends, but you weren’t sure if you were more. you walked to where he was, took the picture from him and placed it on a side table. you grabbed the camera from his hand, and tossed it lightly to your couch. you looked at his lips, his eyes, his scars. you lifted your hand and traced his eyebrows, his nose, his chin, his jawline. his eyes fluttered shut, as he grabbed your hand and kissed it. he pulled you closer, as if you were the air he so desperately needed to breathe, as if you were the water in the middle of the desert. he held you so gently, leaning you against the wall. he leaned his lips towards yours, but didn’t press forward. he just breathed deeply, breathing you in. you looked up at him.

“bucky?” you asked softly, as to not shatter the moment.

“please. you’re all i have ever wanted these three years. i’ve been…you’re…” he couldn’t find the words. he grew a little frustrated at his lack of ways to express himself.

“i love you. from the minute i knew you, from new year’s, every birthday, every anniversary. please, y/n. i need you, like i need air, like i need water, like i need…you.” his eyes looked into yours, waiting for a response in the almost deafening silence.

you leaned forward, kissed him, and were made his that night.

everybody thinks of you when they sleep at night.

he liked waking up next to you. he liked the way your hair ruffled up because of the pillow. he loved the way your eyelashes fluttered when you opened your eyes, and your sleepy smile greeted him.

“good morning, bucky.” you would say.

“dreams?” he’d reply. if you had any dreams, you’d go on in detail about them, and if not, you’d shrug and say,

“my subconscious took the night off.”

he’d tuck your hair behind your ear, and kiss you. how wonderful, that he was able to kiss you, show you how much you meant to him, make you his. how serendipitous, that the first words he ever said to you were “thank you.” fate knew. you knew.

when I say, "everybody", i'm actually referring to mе.