#in therapy today but i was so so so so exhausted we cut it short and left th

[kitsnickett]

the way i feel right now is that if i talk, if i move, i might hurt someone with what i do. and i don't mean to, i truly don't want to hurt anyone. but i'm so fucking broken right now and i'm so scared and it feels like every time i just stop trying so hard i'm doing something wrong everything is wrong and maybe i should just stop but this will hurt too i'm so tired please

missing a safe space

[inlovewithgreta]

you are my sunshine

Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

Chapter Four

You wake up with a groan as your alarm clock blared in your ear from your nightstand. Lifting your head, you look at the clock that brightly reads 7:30 am.

Last night's events were spiraling through your mind all night long, refusing to leave for hours on end, leaving you exhausted.

Wednesday had her first scheduled therapy session today, and since Larissa was the one driving her to Jericho, it only made sense that you tagged along.

Taking a quick shower seemed like the best plan to clean yourself and your mind. You were glad it never took you long to get ready, it was always one of your favorite qualities. It made things so much easier. Being late was never your thing.

Looking in the mirror, you do some finishing touches to your usual cheery clothing with some accessories and even add some light pink gloss to your lips before grabbing your purse and heading towards Larissa's office.

You only made it about halfway there before Larissa and Wednesday came into view. Larissa had the same idea you had and was on her way to meet up with you. The pig-tailed girl had on her usual deadpan face while the tall blonde was her usual smiley self.

Seeing the woman in front of you once again, those same thoughts that ran through your head the night before, all came running back. Neither you nor Larissa seemed to notice the pair of eyes darting between the two of you from Wednesday.

Luckily, you were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when Wednesday was the first to speak up.

"Let's get this over with."

She takes the lead as the three of you walk to the car, clamber inside, and buckle yourselves in for the short ride to Jericho.

You were glad to have bundled up as it was just a tad bit on the chilly side today.

The drive to Jericho was an awkward one. Nobody talked and nobody looked at each other, the only sounds coming from the vehicle.

You drove past a large white sign reading 'Welcome to Jericho' just before entering the streets of the small town. People went on with their days even as the weather seemed a bit gloomy.

Larissa carefully stopped the car in front of an array of buildings, stopping it just in front of a door. Putting the vehicle in park, she proceeds to tell Wednesday where to go and even offers to buy the girl hot chocolate.

Larissa's smile falters ever so slightly when Wednesday declines, the small twitch in her lips was just obvious enough for you to notice.

She warns Wednesday not to run away, to which you agreed with.

Chasing after your sister in an unknown town was not on your to-do list.

During your own time at Nevermore, only the privileged got the chance to come into town and you were glad things seemed to change.

"Wednesday, please—"

Slam

You're cut off when she quickly shuts the door.

". . .behave." You sigh, watching as she disappears into the building and leaves you alone with a now quiet Larissa.

The blonde had just a sliver of a smile when you both finally made eye contact with each other.

"Well," You put on a small smile of your own, "I could still go for some hot chocolate."

"Really?" She seemed almost shocked.

"Of course! It is a bit chilly out, plus how else are we to keep busy while she's in there? Just point me in the direction and I'll fetch us a couple."

"Okay!" Her smile instantly grew bigger as she grabbed her purse from the backseat. "Here, let me just grab you some cash. . ." She digs around in the expensively looking handbag.

"No no, that's not necessary. I can pay."

"It was my idea," She stated.

"But I agreed to it."

"But I'm your boss, and you do as I say. Or can you not handle this already?" She raises an eyebrow while the money sits between her pointer finger and middle finger, waiting for you to accept defeat.

"I can!—"

"Then take the money."

She smirks when you eventually grab it with a huff.

"Where do I go?"

"See that little shop along the corner there?" She points just a bit up the road.

You nod your head with a small 'mhm'.

"That's where you're headed."

"Alright, I'll be back shortly."

And with that, you closed the car door and began walking down the sidewalk.

Larissa couldn't help but watch in the rear view mirror as you slowly faded from view. A part of her gutted to see you walk off by yourself in a town you knew nothing about. The townsfolk weren't always the most welcoming if they found out you were from Nevermore.

It was only a short walk to the little coffee shop. A sign reading 'Weathervane' sat in bold letters just above the door.

Upon walking inside, it seemed like any other quaint coffee shop in a small town. It was small yet cozy and there was something about it that you instantly liked.

There was a young boy behind the counter that seemed like he would be around Wednesday's age fumbling with a smoking machine.

His frown instantly turns into a welcoming smile when he sees you walking up.

"Welcome to the Weathervane, what can I get for you today?"

"Two hot chocolates with extra whipped cream please."

He nods his head while putting your order in the system. "Coming right up!" The boy then quickly gets to work on your hot chocolate.

"I've never seen you before, are you new around here?" The young boy asks.

"You could say that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, do you know Nevermore?" You ask.

"The school? Of course!" He sets one finished cup in front of you before starting on the other.

"I just recently started working there but I went to school there growing up as well."

"Oh, that's interesting—" He sets the other cup in front of you before adding up the total price.

You hand him the money Larissa gave you but quickly wince and pull your hand away when the steam from the broken machine blows scolding hot air onto your hand. The gasp you tried to contain failed to be quiet.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" The young boy frantically waves the steam away, "I've been trying to fix it but it's in a different language."

"No no, it's okay! It was just an accident."

"But—"

"It's okay, kid. . . accidents happen. And hey, keep the change, you'll probably need it to fix that thing."

"That's not necessary—"

"I insist!" You grab the two hot chocolates with your best smile, ignoring the stinging sensation on your skin.

"Well thank you."

"No problem, have a nice day!" You quickly turn to exit the small shop, leaving in a rush as the pain seems to get worse by the second.

The smile on your face instantly turns to a frown when you notice the previously pale spot now turning a bright red.

"Shit. . ." You mutter to yourself, trying your best to ignore your now glossy eyes that threatened to cloud your vision.

The walk back to the car was short but you had stopped just a few footsteps away to take a deep breath and calm yourself.

Wednesday was glad you didn't look up as you would've caught her right in the act of escaping her dreadful therapy session. She watched with curiosity as you composed yourself.

You entered the car quietly while Larissa finished up a phone call. Wednesday then took the opportunity to continue with her escape plan and walk quickly away from her therapist's building and the two of you sitting in the car.

You go to hand Larissa her cup of hot chocolate with a small smile.

"Thank you—" She stops mid sentence when you wince as her fingers graze the same stinging hand that was hurt just moments ago.

"What was that?" She instantly questions you.

"Nothing."

She instantly didn't believe you at your quick response, and it was in this exact moment she came to realize that you were a bad liar.

She sets her drink in the cup holder between you two when she faintly sees the top of your hand.

You notice her line of sight and quickly move to pull your hand away but she was quicker in grabbing your hand and bringing it towards her. Her palm rested against your own as she examined your hand, holding it ever so gently.

"What happened?!" Her eyebrows instantly knitted with confusion and worry as she takes the time to look at your burn.

She failed to realize that the second she grabbed your hand, you zoned out as a vision had since clouded your mind and completely taken over your senses.

'A stray hair gets tucked behind your ear before resting at the back of your neck, carefully pulling you closer.

You look up at the tall blonde nearly towering over you.

Piercing ocean eyes go from looking into your own to lingering onto your lips.

Larissa slowly leans forward, her round lips inching towards your own. . ."

"Y/N?" Larissa calls your name again just as you bring yourself back to reality.

"I'm sorry—what?" Your cheeks feel as hot as your hand as you try to push back your thoughts.

"I said, what happened to your hand?! You were gone for five minutes! Did someone do this to you??"

"I-It's nothing, there was a broken machine in the shop and it sprayed hot air on my hand. That's all."

"Are you sure? Because now your cheeks are nearly as red as your hand—"

"I'm fine, I promise." You quickly cut her off, but before the conversation can go any further there's a knock at your window.

Wednesday's therapist stands outside the car with a frown on her face. You and Larissa separate your hands and quickly exit the car, the three of you grouping on the sidewalk.

Your sister apparently ran from her therapy session. Not surprising.

Wednesday's therapist goes back inside while you and Larissa nearly speed-walk down the cemented path in front of you.

"There she is!" You point to the direction of the Weathervane when you see a familiar pig-tailed girl inside the shop.

Upon walking in, three boys lie on the ground, groaning in pain while Wednesday is talking to the young boy from the shop and a police officer.

Larissa immediately apologizes to the Sheriff while you tried to hide a smile, knowing exactly why the boys were laying on the floor. Both you and Wednesday were taught how to protect yourselves from a young age so it was no surprise to you that they were on the ground while she was unharmed.

"Come on Miss Addams, it's time for you, your sister, and I to go."

The Sheriff immediately scowls at the sound of your last name.

"You're an Addams?" You and Wednesday both look at each other with a questionable face before nodding to the man in front of you.

His scowl seemed to grow even bigger when it was revealed that Gomez was your father. The man eyeing both you and Wednesday down. You couldn't help but be confused by his demeanor and the fact that he said your dad should be in jail.

"Okay—" Larissa ushers both you and Wednesday out before the three of you get back to the car.

"Unbelievable. . ." Larissa mutters as all buckle in and start the journey back to Nevermore.

She starts off on a rant that you were suspecting and made the world outside the window in front of you more interesting than what was happening beside you.

The scolding doesn't last very long when your eyes widen at the sight in front of you.

Smoke covered the air from a suspected car accident.

"Oh my gosh. . ." You lean forward and eye the wreckage.

"I hope the driver's okay." Larissa comments.

"He's dead." Wednesday speaks matter of factly before saying how it actually happened, for which you assumed was just her guess, not knowing she had a vision of her own just slightly after yours.

The rest of the drive back was full of awkward silence as the three of you got caught up in your own thoughts about today's events and trying to ignore the sight you just saw.

Wednesday is the first to leave the car, almost immediately after it was put in park and slamming the door behind her.

"Well, uh—that was—"

"Yeah. . ." Larissa finishes your sentence as the two of you grab your now cold hot chocolates and walk side by side back into the school in silence.

Larissa stops you just at the bottom of the stairs with a small clear of her throat, causing you to look back at her.

"Are you sure your hand is okay? She asks sincerely.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing to worry about. See? It's already looking better." You show off your hand that was now just a tad bit more normal looking than before.

She didn't believe you but didn't want to push you any further. "Just put some ice on it, that should help."

"Got it." You make a mental note in your head.

"Well you're off duty for the rest of the night, I have some work left to do in my office but I'll see you tomorrow. We must talk about our upcoming schedule."

You nod your head at the end of her sentence and part ways with the blonde. An old thought crosses your mind after taking just a few steps up the stairs.

"Larissa?" You call back out to her.

"Yes?" She turns back around to you.

"Thank you for bringing up the hot chocolate idea, it's very good."

"It's my pleasure."

You both have the same smile that spreads across your faces.

"Goodnight, Larissa."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

The two of you go your separate ways, smiles refusing to leave your faces.

You go back to your room and instantly get into more comfortable clothes to spend a bit of time on your painting, wanting to start on a fresh canvas while the sun is still out.

Larissa had since returned to her office to finish some work she had laid out to do the night before but struggled to maintain focus when you kept popping into her mind, drawing her attention from the computer screen in front of her. She had closed the laptop with a sigh when she realized she wasn't going to get anything done and instead succumbed to the thoughts of you that wouldn't dare leave her mind.

While you used your paintings to clear your mind, the blonde seemed to forget all sense of time when she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and smiled when a memory of you immediately popped up.

The rest of the day was uneventful, but when it became nighttime, the sound of music playing in the distance had relaxed you in an instant as you laid beneath the duvet and found your eyes immediately closing to the charm of faint tune.

—

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[goddessofthedawn]

In case you missed my first extremely brief post, GUILLAUME is out today. Here's the link. Above is the cover. Below the cut is the first chapter.

If you've got .99 (or KU! or want to spend 14$ on a paperback!) please give it a shot. I am so fucking proud of this book.

. chapter one .

Whenever I am called on to share a fun fact about myself, whether it be for meeting new people or first-day-of-school activities, I always use the island. What I don’t mention is that I was close with Guillaume.

            The short story is this: six years ago, when we were all twelve or thirteen years old, our plane crashed on a deserted island. Forty-two of us survived the crash. Fifteen of us came home. The reason the rest of them didn’t isn’t because of poisonous snakes, or spiders, or good old starvation. The reason was Guillaume.

            My friendship with Guillaume is something I don’t mention when bringing up the island because Guillaume is the reason the Bolin Disaster became the Bolin Tragedy, and I was the one propping him up the whole way.

            That isn’t something you tell people.

            Lucky for me, I got away with it. Everyone was either so exhausted or tragic or confused that they forgot that where Guillaume had been, I was there, too. I even testified against him at the trial. Lucky for Guillaume, his father had enough money to hire a lawyer good enough to get him placed under psychiatric care until he turned eighteen. So six years after the island, he would be free. I have spent my six years as happily as I could have. I’m thinner than I was. I feel like it was one way or another with us island survivors: upon returning to the States, we either gorged ourselves on the sheer mass of food that was available to use, or we couldn’t stomach it. I was the latter.

            But other than that, I was fine. I finished middle school and I finished high school and I got accepted into every college I applied to. I think all of us did. There were only a select few boys who could capitalize on our tragedy, and capitalize we did. Most of us got talk shows, even. None of them were very big ones, except the ones that Kevin and Adam went on—but talk shows are talk shows. I’m sure some of us will come out with books as we get older, too.

            The college I decided on was one I’d wanted to go to since I’d been young. It was my mother’s alma mater, a private liberal arts college in New England, and I was going to study political science. A few months before the school year started, I opened an e-mail from the school that was supposed to tell me who my roommate was going to be, and I do not lie when I say that my heart nearly stopped when I saw the name:

GUILLAUME ARGOT

×

It was stupid of me to assume that, just because he was crazy, his dad couldn’t buy him into college. Whatever amount of money you’re thinking the Argots have, they have more. Guillaume’s imprisonment after the island had been very much a gilded cage; I did, at one point, look it up out of pure curiosity, and even though the image of an asylum is a pervasive one, with straightjackets, padded rooms, and electroshock therapy, that was not the case with Guillaume’s experience. Guillaume had a private room, wore his own clothes, and spent most of his time in the library. He did high school over the internet and received a diploma in the mail.

            Part of me wanted to believe that my future roommate was some other Guillaume, but how many Guillaume Argots are there in the world? Guillaume Argots going to an American college? A small, private liberal arts school that Guillaume, my Guillaume would have known… but other Guillaumes may not have?

            I heard my parents coming up the stairs. I shut my laptop.

            “Did you get the e-mail? Who’s your roommate?” my mother asked.

            “Roger,” I said, because it seemed like a fairly harmless name. “Roger Elwin. I’m going to see if I can find him on Facebook or something tonight.”

            Roger Elwin was a name my mother could buy. Roger Elwin was probably blond, tall, broad-shouldered, played basketball or football, was going into something employable. The antithesis of Guillaume. Guillaume, if he was like he had been six years ago, was small, and skinny, and black-haired, and was likely going to get a degree in literature. When you were as rich as the Argot family, you could afford to get a passion degree. I was going to go for political science, but then go on to law school. My mother was a lawyer, and my father was a lawyer, and I would be a lawyer. Guillaume would learn about literature and then probably go on getting advanced degrees until he went to jail for real.

            You could ask me why I didn’t tell my mother about Guillaume. Why I didn’t defer for a year, or go to a different college; a better college, even. Why I didn’t call the admissions office or whoever was in charge of pairing up roommates and tell them that I couldn’t room with Guillaume because when we were twelve we killed kids together. I would say that I froze, or that I didn’t want to defer enrollment, or that I believed it wasn’t my Guillaume, and all of that would be a lie. The reason I didn’t do any of that was a mix of curiosity and guilt.

            Curiosity, because I wanted to see what had become of him. I wanted to see if he was still the same, in looks and temperament, and in the little things that made Guillaume, Guillaume. The insane sweet tooth that, if his parents hadn’t been richer than God, would have bankrupted his parents on dental bills. The fact that he would read anything and everything you put in front of him: nonfiction, fiction, it didn’t matter. The one physical flaw I remembered—no matter how much sleep he got, he always had dark crescents under his eyes, like he needed about four more hours of rest.             And guilt, because I’d testified against him and gotten away scot-free.

[returntosaturn271995]

Friday, June 16th: 10/10

“and I think we make gods who look like us for a reason. I think, in spite of it all, we trust we can be believed in.”

Excerpt From You Better Be Lightning Andrea Gibson

I’ve been known for the occasional 3, 5, and 7 day streak, but usually the weekend has a habit of snatching good routines and well-intentioned alarms right out of my nail bitten hands. 

Today was the first time in a long time I’ve successfully hit 10 days straight of hitting my goals. So I’m celebrating that, because it wasn’t easy. There was rejection, reality checks, and pillows Lumos peed on. But every day I also gave myself the following. 

Yoga: 20 minuets today- achey knees, and I’m always wobbly on my left side. But I signed in and moved my skeleton around in a way that would make Jenny Slate laugh. 

Walking to the beach: It’s finally fucking sunny out. I threw on a white sports bra and some leggings I cut in to spandex shorts and lapped up the rays like puppy at his water dish. Mmmmm. Speaking of skeletons: Today I saw a bright turquoise vintage car, a vintage man at the wheel, and a full skeleton chilling next to him. It was a blink and miss it moment. 

Reading: Finished Andra Gibson’s “You better be Lightning”. Totally cried my eyes out at story she told about being so excited to wear new shoes to basketball try-outs only to have the other kids make fun of them and then she had to pretend she didn’t like them and her better shoes were coming in the mail. This women also writes about chronic illness and death, but something about childhood enthusiasm and pride being mutilated by embarrassment and shame cracks how my whole chest open. When I was at the DMV today I made a point to tell the little girl I was sitting next to that I liked her sparkly pink crocs. She smiled, said thank you, and hide behind her knees. 

Meditation: Staying mindful, feeling your breath in your chest as though your own body is being breathed in by the universe. I put my headphones on at the DMV and just tried to be present. To see humanity in all of its weirdness: exhausting and beautiful. 

Political Awareness: Oof. We’re in a post-Dobbs world and republican monsters are coming for the queer kids during pride month. It’s not enough to know though. I want to do something, how I’m not sure yet. Back burner. 

Writing: Here I am. Stuck in the middle with you. Writing down jokes I think are funny, dreaming of screenplays. Might be time to tell a story where I’m not both the narrator and main character. 

Cooking: Today I ended up making the Chicken Stir Fry. Spilled rice all over the kitchen listening to MFM recap Terri Broome murdering an Italian asshole (somewhat justified) and Bernie Lito murdering an elderly widow so he could live a lavish lifestyle as a closeted gay man (alllllso somewhat justified but I’m a sick fuck so don’t listen to me). 

Cleaning: Bleached the life out of my walls and have been running that dishwasher to my hearts content. Fresh bed linens, folded laundry. 

Dressing well: Killing it. Today’s plan: 90′s pearl choker, white eyelet crop top, flared jeans, vans. Lately been living in the blue striped terry-cloth set. 

Reduce drinking: Not a drop, sugar tits. And in general never alone. 

Sunscreen/Skincare: Aging like the wine I’m not drinking

Running: At least 3-5 blocks of each walk. Building up to 4-6. 

Therapy: Kicking my ass. Making progress. 

Music: My head is a radio station. 

[memoirs-of-learning-dad]

So many things on my mind today. This is a safe space for me - it's my journal, memoirs (the hint is in the name)! I suppose I can talk about anything here? One common theme in all the things on my mind today? My mental illnesses.

Number 1 in that list of things on my mind, parenting. It's tough being a parent. It's tougher doing it with absolutely no support system, no breaks & no days off. Let's make it more interesting, and throw in a little bit of bipolar and ADHD, and things start getting really interesting. Time to dive deeper?

Not having a support system sucks. Do y'all know the first time I ever held a baby? My own daughter - I read up so much before, watched so many videos, about parenting and pregnancy etc etc. But nothing prepares you for the real thing. I will honestly admit, before my daughter was born, this is how unprepared I was - I had never seen a diaper in my life, I didn't know what formula was. And then there was this person in my arms. Thanks to COVID, we had no one helping us - like literally, it was just paapu, partner and me for almost 13 months. Even now, we are just teaching each other along the way, figuring it out as and when a new challenge shows up; reddit, YouTube, video calls with parents. But it's not the same as having someone help you or teach you. One of the worst things about living as an immigrant is being completely cut off from your old life, in a sense. Granted, we are lucky that technology has now given us tools that I'm able to see my parent's faces live everyday. But it's not the same. As an immigrant, your friends become your family. We need to get over our introversion and go ask for help from friends sometimes.

It's exhausting as it is, and with my mental condition, it is just draining. Mentally, emotionally, physically. If you've never interacted with a 2 year old toddler you'll not know what I'm talking about. it's called the "terrible twos" apparently, now I know why. One moment they're the cutest, sweetest beings on earth, and the other, your worst nightmare. The look in her eyes, when she walks up to hug or kiss me, just holding her in my arms - best feeling ever! Holding those tiny arms, that feeling when she's sitting in my lap and reading a book? No words to describe it. But then, they know exactly what buttons to press to upset you as well. As I said, I haven't seen many babies - but all my relatives or friends who have, tell me that my daughter is a bit extra rebellious, hyperactive, and wild. Sometimes, it scares the s*** out of me. Are bipolar and ADHD genetic? Experts don't know for sure, what if? I really don't want to go down that rabbit hole. Even typing that sentence, and my heart rate is up, I'm shaking my legs nervously. God please spare her from all these struggles.

I have known about bipolar for a couple of years now so I have some grip over the way my bipolar affects me. I have very little patience, I'm short of temper. But therapy and constant practice in coping mechanisms help a lot. But ADHD? I got diagnosed just 3 or 4 months back. I'm just now learning about all the symptoms - some things I am aware of are a compulsive need to put stuff away immediately after using them; uneasiness when daily routine changes; irritated by having to tell the same things repeatedly; if something is not going according to plan or according to how I expected it, I start freaking out. Imagine all these triggers with a toddler. The medications and therapy helps with coping, to a great extent, but y'all have to understand. I have lived my entire life undiagnosed - "prior to therapy" way of thinking and coping was normal for me. I thought literally everybody goes through the same feelings and emotions, so wrong I was. So suddenly being conscious about these illnesses, seeing those patterns in behavior, understanding what the triggers are, figuring out what parts are the disorder, what parts are actually me? It's a long process. Understanding my mind and being in peace with it.

And then there's my partner. She is a perfectionist. She wants only the best possible upbringing for our daughter, to the point that subconsciously I think I'm putting too much undue pressure on myself to make everything perfect. We both make mistakes, I make them more. My threshold for patience is lower, so I tend to walk away more often. But yes, when I'm walking away I'm evidently upset - either cursing under my breath or ignoring my daughter's calls. Today this exact thing happened and partner doesn't like it. When I do calm down I come back to my daughter and apologize for my behavior and explain to her what upset me. I don't know how much a 2 year old retains, but that's a healthy way of coping, no? After paapu slept my partner told me she specifically had a problem with my cursing. She doesn't want "our family to use that kind of language". I felt like it was a bit much, paapu hardly heard me. And also I wasn't going off like Tupac's Hit 'em up either. I think I muttered "f this, get lost". I mean I agree with her in the overall idea, but it's not easy to change the way I speak overnight, or even in days. Look, I'm no street guy in the real sense, I work a desk job in a top organization, but I grew up in a tough environment. I mean, I'm still privileged, my parents gave me a good education, good values, set me up for a successful life. But I still grew up with folk who weren't necessarily cultured. I have had a very wild college life. Skipped every lecture, got into drugs, alcohol, partying, and did some real f'd up s*** I'm not proud of. So it's going to take time to unlearn and learn a new way of speaking. Is this my justification for cursing around my toddler when I'm upset? Maybe? I'm not convinced by it though, I have had 2 years to work on this. I don't know the point of this, I'm upset at my wife? I'm going to speak with her about this anyway, maybe tomorrow morning? She'll understand I'm sure. But what really has gotten me so upset? Maybe we can both work through it. Amazing, how my emotions go from 0-100-0 in a matter of days/hours. Is that normal? Or is it bipolar?

I also want to write a little about this awesome post I read on reddit the other day. Somebody had posted a question about "weird intrusive thoughts that ADHD/OCD folk have that they think are completely normal". The responses blew my mind. There were so many comments summarizing exactly how I felt - and it's both encouraging and disappointing. It feels good to know that there are people out there thinking the exact same way, no matter how weird it might seem to the outside world, if you knew you knew kinda thing. Then there's the other side, some of those things and thoughts? I thought they were my things, unique to my personality - things that define me somehow. Is it all just a symptom of an illness? Do two illnesses describe such a big part of me and my personality?

Anyway, there were so many things there, that made me go like OMG that's not normal? Like, someone had posted about how they go through an entire scenario of physically painful circumstances and actually imagine those things - like looking at a car crash or reading about an accident and thinking about how the injuries would feel to me if I was in there and then suddenly freak out because I could actually imagine it in third person perspective. Before, even small routine things like going to get my blood work done freaks me out and I used to trip for a couple of days prior at least. Like what if the needle is infected? What if they puncture my vein or something? Blood spurting everywhere! Sounds ridiculous? Tell that to me when I'm wide awake late night tripping about it the day before. But now when such thoughts come, I just push through the scary part of imagination and then there's literally nothing else next in that scenario. Like keep asking yourself what next? And at some point the story becomes ridiculous.

Then there was this other thing which was so relatable. Going on a highway at 70mph and suddenly there's a thought or urge to just abruptly jerk the steering wheel around. I mean I'm never doing it consciously but that thought just pops up and immediately goes away. And I'm like what was that all about. I tried to show that to my partner thinking she would relate or understand what I'm saying or feeling. Guess the first thing she said? That if that's true I shouldn't be driving with paapu. Huh? This convo was on text, so I really couldn't figure out if she was serious or sarcastic, I seriously hope it's the latter. Am I mad at her because I think she meant the former? That's another thing I want to ask her tomorrow. I mean it's normal for me, these intrusive thoughts, and I know they just come and go, I never act or anything on them, but does she understand that? How does a non-ADHD mind process intrusive thoughts like that, do they even get them?

BTW everything I wrote above? Someone had mentioned this too. Taking a tiny thought or a small thing somewhere and the mind just spirals out of control. Future tripping as my therapist calls it. But that's why I'm here writing this journal to let my thoughts flow naturally and that helps me put things into perspective and come out of this with a better mindset.

One last thing, about how a small part of a song like one sentence or a couple of bars gets stuck in your head? In a loop? For hours? Ya, I thought that was special about me. Your see, I'm not educated in music. Like I don't even know the basics, I tried my hand at self teaching guitar once. But I listen. Like I really love listening. Listening. Trying to listen to the different sounds, trying to figure out the instrument, learning the lyrics to selected songs. We humans have such a deep connection with music, it's one of the most beautiful things that we as humans have ever created. My relationships with music is a different post on its own (some day), but let's focus on the thing about small parts that get stuck in my head? They're usually these small tiny details in songs that I catch after listening to a song on repeat for hundreds of times. Like obsessively listen to that full song to catch that one or two bits I like. My taste in music keeps changing, some day I'm into classic rock, the next day listening to gangster rap. and the immediate next song will be a foreign language love song. Currently, I'm in nostalgia mode. I am listening to the really popular radio songs from the time when I was 18 (for some absolutely unknown reason). If anyone is reading, here's three songs and the bits that are stuck in my mind, and I'm obsessively listening to are

50 Cents - In Da Club. The stanza where he raps, "my flow, my show, got me the dough" until "Look *****, I done came up and I ain't changed"

Akon - I wanna love you. Now this one will be tricky to describe, it's not a lyric or a tune that I'm stuck on. it's just the sound of one instrument that is going in a loop the entire song. It is the keyboard/Casio sound, I think? If you pay close attention, for the first three notes there's echo, then there's no echo for the next three notes. I don't know how else to describe it. It would be amazing if you know what I'm talking about and noticed it after reading this, please comment if you do!

Usher - Yeah! This one is also a specific sound that you can hear during certain times of the song. It's a flute like sound that plays faintly when the chorus is playing the first time around the one minute mark. When the words "Yeah!" is being sung, you can hear the faint flute like sounds which has roughly about 5 notes.

What do I conclude with? What has this post been about? Just a rant? Parenting struggles? learning about ADHD? The weird relationship between music and mental illness? All of them? For me? Work on cursing less around my daughter, maybe replace those words with asked words to express intense emotion? Like Darn blah blah. Keep exploring and learning more about ADHD.

Until next time Tumblr!

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

[tommyhollandaisesauce]

Let Me Do The Work [t.h.]

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k idk how 

Posted: 11/19/2020

Warnings: Fluff, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral sex (f receiving), maybe too much plot? and definitely a whole lotta lazy sex sue me you’re welcome.

Summary: Tom thinks you deserve a reward after a hard few days at work.

A/N: uhhhh I mean I think I covered all the bases lol. I rly hope you guys like this I think I started it over a year ago and only recently had the motivation to finish and post it. This is basically my brain baby so please lmk how you guys liked it and if you would like to be added to my taglist there’s a google form linked in my bio. Enjoy horn dogs!!

When Tom got home on Wednesday night the last thing he expected his girlfriend to say was “Wanna have sex?” He had asked a few times before if you could and your response was usually something to the effect of “Sorry babe, another time, I’m just exhausted.” He knew your job was taxing and took a lot out of you and, frankly, Tom could survive the work week without getting any. He also knew that once Friday night rolled around it was all systems go; the weekend was yours to fool around as much as you wanted. And he was willing to wait.

Asking never hurt, though. Tom wasn’t annoying about it, at least he hoped he wasn’t. And for all the times you’d asked to have sex after he had a particularly exhausting day on set and he agreed, he didn’t feel super guilty about asking now and then.

It was unusual that Tom would be so exhausted from working that he didn't have any energy left to have sex. There had been some rare days when Tom could barely keep his eyes open even though you were right there, naked and sweaty, and riding his cock right on the living room couch. Your hands would be resting on his broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscles beneath his freckled skin as you bounced on his cock and his hands could barely stay put on your waist or hips to help you move. Sure, he liked watching you rise and fall on his lap and he liked seeing himself disappear inside of you and he liked the way your tits bounced with every movement and he liked watching your face. God, he loved your gorgeous face.

Your eyes would flutter open and closed the closer you got and you’d look at him with your big, beautiful eyes that were dark and lust blown and your jaw would go slack and you’d throw your head back in pleasure. Your movements would get sloppier as you’d start shaking and convulsing while you came. His arms would lazily wrap around your waist to pull you closer and you’d nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing hard against his skin as you came down from your high. But Tom couldn’t find it in himself to even worry about his own orgasm, he just wanted to sleep.

So when he came home to your shared flat around 7 pm from walking Tessa on a particularly boring Wednesday, now that he had a break, and saw you lying on the couch with a glass of red wine in one hand and your other arm thrown over your eyes, he figured it was pointless to ask. You had gotten home sometime while he was out, didn’t bother changing out of your blouse and jeans just yet, popped a bottle open, and poured yourself a glass.

Tom unclipped the leash from Tessa’s collar, allowing her to run free around the flat. Immediately, she trotted over to you, nuzzling your legs with her nose until you caved and gave her a few scratches behind her ears. Tom slipped off his sneakers, padding over to you, causing Tessa to run off in search of her favorite toy. The couch sank under his weight as he sat down next to your head, your eyebrows raised at the shift.

“Hey, stranger,” you muttered, removing your arm from covering your half-lidded eyes. Your eyes sparkled in the dim living room lighting as you looked up at Tom. He couldn’t remember a single time they looked dull. Not during a fight, or when you were sad or tired or sick, never. They reminded him of stars. No matter what, they kept shining.

“Hi love,” Tom leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your wine-stained lips. The upside-down angle was slightly awkward, but you’d be lying if you said you two hadn’t done the Spider-Man Kiss before, per his request.

You smiled up at him as he pulled away and closed your eyes. Tom threaded his fingers through your messy locks and you relaxed, even more, leaning your head into his hand.

“Long day?” He asked, continuing to run his fingers through your hair.

“Don’t even get me started,” you huffed out, dramatically throwing your arm back over your eyes, which made Tom chuckle at your antics.

“Tell me what happened?” He asked lovingly, and as you lowered your arm you raised a single eyebrow at him.

“You sure?” You asked cautiously, “Because I wouldn’t wish the shit I dealt with today on my worst enemy.”

Tom scoffed, shrugging his shoulders, “Try me.”

You sighed before beginning your story. Today had been insufferable. From the minute you clocked in, to the minute you clocked out, it had been hell. One coworker in particular, with whom you were not super close or friends in any way, kept nagging you about your relationship like she did every single day.

The incessant questioning and probing was getting old and, quite frankly, rude. The questions started out harmless, like everyone else’s when they found out the Tom Holland was your boyfriend. Some asked for autographs or pictures and you declined, saying that if he ever came in Tom would be more than happy to do that. And Tom agreed; you playing messenger was weird and not the type of thing either of you wanted people to get accustomed to. And most people understood; except for one.

The more she asked the worse they got. Personal questions were the norm now. Questions about family members and life together and sex. God, the sex questions never ended. ‘Is it good?’ and ‘What are you guys into?’ were some of her favorites. Sometimes she’d get creative with them and switch them up. And every time, you refused to answer. And you relayed this information to Tom like you did most days, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance at her ignorance before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead when he saw you were getting riled up.

You softened immediately and sighed. Tom had a calming effect on you. Just being around him was relaxing. After so long together he still could calm you down. And he was cheaper than your copay for therapy, so hey why not vent to him?

“Just forget about her for now, babe,” Tom sighed out, continuing to stroke your hair, “she’s not worth your energy.”

“You're right,” you exhaled, “I’m home, I got my wine, I got my boy, I can relax.”

“Exactly,” Tom said, laughing at your words. He didn’t feel the need to say anything else as you both relaxed, his fingers still threaded in your hair, until a few more minutes went by, your eyes opened, and you turned your head to make sure you were setting down your not yet empty glass on the coffee table.

A soft “hey” escaped Tom’s lips as he watched you use your arms to lean up and turn to face him. He would’ve spoken more but was cut off as your lips pressed to his, the kiss awkward since you had caught him as he was speaking. His lips were slightly chapped and he tasted like spearmint gum as you hovered over him and moved your lips against his.

Tom sighed into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. You clumsily clambered into Tom’s sweatpants clad lap to straddle him and his other hand sat high on your thigh. The kiss was slow and passionate, neither of you in a rush to go further just yet. You melted into the kiss as his tongue slid along your lower lip to ask for permission to enter. You parted your lips immediately, allowing Tom access. After a few moments of lazily making out like teenagers, you pulled away to catch your breath. You closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against Tom’s as you both panted, trying to catch your breath.

“Can we go to our room?” You mumbled, just loud enough for Tom to hear. Your voice was low, soft, and a little shaky from being so tired. His eyes opened at your words and his ears perked up. Tom pulled his head away from yours and your eyes returned to their half-open state.

“I thought you were tired?” He questioned teasingly, tucking some strands of hair behind both your ears and resting his hands on your cheeks. You reached up and wrapped your fingers around Tom’s wrists, smiling sweetly at him. He was sure his heart damn near melted in his chest at the sight of his sleepy girlfriend asking to have sex with him.

“I am,” you said softly, smirking as Tom ran his hands down your sides and settled over your hips, “why do you think I wanna go to our room?” You joked, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and ducking your head down to place soft kisses along the side of it. He sighed, tilting his head in the opposite direction to give you more room as your fingers carded through the short, soft curls at the back of his head.

“You sure?” Tom asked breathily, as you continued laying kisses across his jaw and below his ear, “Because I don’t want you to do it just because I want to-“

“Tom,” you huffed, pulling away from his neck, your hands migrating to rest on his shoulders. He straightened up and opened his eyes as the feeling of your soft lips disappeared from his neck. “I’m sure. Now shut up and take me to the bedroom.”

He smiled up at you as he snaked one of his large hands around your waist and the other under one of your legs before shakily standing up. You yelped at the jerky, clumsy action and wrapped your arms tighter around Tom’s neck and your legs around his waist. Tessa jumped up from her bed where she had been lying from the sudden movement as Tom carried you down the hall to where your bedroom was, the door ajar. You giggled as he almost smacked both of you into the door frame and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. Tom kicked the door gently to push it open before entering the room, turning around, and kicking it closed again. Tessa scratched at the door for a few seconds before giving up and trotting off back to her bed.

The room was cool and dimly lit by two bedside lamps and the computer monitor on the desk, which had yet to go dark and was emitting a hazy, red-orange glow on everything in the room. The window was cracked open to allow some fresh air in and the sheer, white curtains fluttered every so often due to a random gust of wind.

The room still smelled like Tom though. Sure the scent of your lavender body wash and coconut and vanilla hair products and the eucalyptus candle you occasionally burned was lingering, but it was predominantly Tom scented. It was a clean and fresh smell, not shoe polish or sandalwood or, god forbid AXE. It was a perfect balance of pine and rain and laundry detergent. God, if you could bathe in Tom’s smell you would. It was intoxicating. And having the direct source of the smell pressed against you did little to quell the ache that had appeared between your thighs.

However, Tom never closed doors behind him. The door to the walk-in closet you and Tom shared was halfway open, as was the bathroom door. He always left them just open enough where he could get in and out without having to touch the door. You had no clue when the habit had started. It was only mildly annoying, one of those things you find out about a person only after you start living with them, and you always went and closed them after him. As much as you reminded him to close them, and as much as he promised he would, he never did. Tonight, however, was an exception. One, you were far too tired to do so, and two, there were far more pressing matters at hand than some open doors.

When Tom walked over to the bed until his knees hit the edge and he gently laid you down on top of the soft covers, all thoughts of open doors were immediately forgotten. You relaxed instantly into the comforter, one of your legs propped up and bent at the knee, your arms up by your sides, with one hand absentmindedly scratching at your shoulder. Tom settled his hands at your ankles, rubbing soft circles into the exposed skin with his thumbs as his eyes raked over your body.

You took this time to admire Tom. There aren't enough words in the English language to describe how gorgeous Tom Holland is, even in sweats and an old t-shirt. Everything about him made you crave him more. His loose curls and warm brown eyes and soft smile and broad shoulders and, god, everything about this man drove you wild. You knew that what was hiding under his tight, white t-shirt and grey sweats was worth the many minutes — maybe hours — of sleep you’d lose tonight.

“God, I love you so much,” Tom broke the silence, as he crawled up your body to rest directly on top of you, between your parted legs. His hand trailed up your legs and sides before it settled on your waist and the other on your cheek. Your own hands snaked around his neck, and you pulled him down for a kiss, both of you closing your eyes as your lips collided, melting into one another. Tom quickly picked up right where you left off on the couch, swiping his tongue against your lower lip. Just as quickly, you opened your mouth and his tongue slipped inside, running against your own. Tom wrapped one arm tightly around your waist and with his other arm, he picked you up and pulled both of you higher up on the bed, gently placing you back down amongst the soft pillows.

“Now,” Tom spoke into the kiss after a few moments, “let’s get you outta these jeans.”

“What?” You mumbled against his lips, feigning offense, as his nimble fingers popped open the button on your dark grey, straight leg jeans and pulled down the zipper, “You don’t like my jeans?”

“No, I love your jeans,” he responded, still kissing you, “but right now they’re in the way.”

At that, Tom stuck his fingers through the belt loops on either side of your hips and broke away from the kiss, sitting back on his legs and pulling the denim down your legs. Once you were free of your jeans, he repositioned himself above you and attached his lips to your neck, just as you had done to him earlier. His fingers reached for the buttons on your blouse and clumsily began to undo them. Your hands were in his hair as he left open mouth kisses along your neck and jaw, occasionally biting down a little before running his tongue over the spot to soothe the skin. You could already tell there’d be some dark marks on your neck Tomorrow, but at this point, you didn’t care. You’d just wear a turtleneck the next day.

Eventually, Tom was able to undo all the buttons on your blouse. He pushed the creamy white satin down your shoulders and arms, tossing it somewhere in the room, his lips never leaving your skin. You were now only in your underwear, the chill from the cool air seeping in from the window causing goosebumps to form across your body. Soft, quiet moans escaped from your lips as Tom continued his attack on your newly exposed collarbones and chest. One of his hands came up to massage your breast through the light blue, lace bra you were wearing as he left sloppy kisses over your chest, and you could tell that you were completely soaked watching him do this. He looked up at you from between your breasts, one hand still resting on top of your left one, a cheeky smirk gracing his thin lips at the noises you were emitting.

“I like this color,” Tom said, his voice low and husky but he was grinning. As he spoke, he snapped the band of the bra against your ribs, the sting causing you to flinch a little, “it suits you.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to know that I’m matching today,” you whispered, still heaving slightly. Tom furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down and sure enough, you were wearing matching lace bottoms, not entirely unintentionally. Beaming up at you, Tom traveled down your body, his fingers grazing gently over your skin and his hot breath tickling you as his lips left soft kisses across your stomach, sparks dancing across your flesh in their wake. Slowly, he settled between your legs, your thighs thrown over his shoulders with your feet planted on the mattress on either side of his torso. His own hands were on your hips, holding you down against the bed. He pressed a few gentle kisses on your inner thighs as he began pulling the sides of your underwear down your hips.

Raising your butt off the mattress to help, Tom was able to carefully pull the delicate lace completely off your legs. There had been one prior occasion where he had tugged at your underwear just a little too hard and ripped the fragile material and you had not been too pleased with him after that. From then on, regardless of the nature of the activity, he was very careful in removing your underwear.

Once your underwear had been discarded, he resumed his place between your thighs, his hands finding yours and resting on your stomach just above your hips. Tom continued laying gentle kisses on your hips and inner thighs, everywhere but where you needed him most, each one followed by a soft exhale from you. After a few moments of teasing, he pressed a soft kiss directly on your clit, before licking a long stripe up between your folds. Your breathing hitched as Tom started working on your clit, alternating between gently pulling and sucking at it and circling it with his tongue. It didn’t take long before your back was arching off the bed and your legs began squirming around his head, the familiar knot forming in your lower stomach. Soft pants fell from your lips as Tom pulled away for a second to breathe, eyes fanning over your body, before diving back in, your hands squeezing his own as he reconnected with your pussy. Soon after, your legs began to shake and you bucked your hips upwards, Tom following your movements. As he continued applying firm pressure to your clit, you felt the knot snap, your toes curling and your head falling back into the pillows as you came. White-hot pressure flowed through your body as you rode out your orgasm, a string of soft moans and curses filling the room.

Tom’s tongue rolled lazily around your clit as you exhaled heavily, your body jolting forward and  sharp gasp leaving your throat when he lightly pulled on it with his lips. You felt another shock roll through your body as he continued massaging your clit. He slipped his right hand out of your grip, the other laying flat against your lower abdomen, holding you down as you bucked your hips again. He lifted his head, making direct eye contact with you. His stunning brown eyes beamed up at you through his long eyelashes, clouded over with lust and reflecting the faint light of the lamps on either side of the bed. His breath fanned over your heat, sending chills down your legs.

He was giving you a break. Just because you were tired did not mean Tom was, and after a few days with no action, he was ready to show you just how desperate he was for some.

“More,” you begged, pushing some damp curls that had fallen away from his forehead back. His free hand lowered to between your legs, his touch feather-light as he ran his index finger through your folds, soaked with your own arousal as well as his saliva.

“More?” he questioned teasingly, moving his finger in a figure-eight motion around your clit and your opening, dipping in just for a second before retreating. You nodded quickly to answer him, not trusting yourself to use your voice. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you choked out as he circled your clit, “please, more.”

“Thought you were tired?” Without even looking at him, you knew he was smirking. You could hear it in his voice. You exhaled in annoyance, groaning quietly as he continued to torment you. He chuckled at your reaction, finally giving in and placing his lips back on your core, as well as slipping a single finger inside, and very soon after, a second. You inhaled sharply at the new feeling, hands darting down to run your fingers through his soft hair, tugging at the curls as if you could control him like a puppet. Either that or he just knew exactly what you wanted, circling and pulling on your sensitive clit while simultaneously pumping his fingers inside you, curling them up ever so slightly to graze your g-spot.

Reaching your second orgasm took mere minutes, leaving you spent and panting harder than after the first. You knew that unless you pulled him away, he’d continue his assault on you. Breathing heavily with parted lips, you tugged harder than before on his hair until his lips left your body with a quiet pop, his own breathing heavy as well. You pushed your fingers through the dark curls that had fallen over his forehead again, attempting to smooth them down. Fortunately or unfortunately, you weren’t sure, but they refused to settle, instead sticking up in odd angles from your constant tugging. Either way, he looked beautiful, all messy hair and lust-filled eyes. Glancing down at him, his glistening lips pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and another, and another, working up your body until he was eye level with you. His hand settled on your ribcage and yours on the back of his neck as he kissed you roughly on the lips, teeth clashing together, letting you taste yourself.

Tom hovered over you as your lips danced with his for a few minutes, rough and passionate, his large hands grasping at and exposed skin he could find, which was quite difficult considering you were still wearing a bra. His arms coiled around you to get to the clasp, forcing you to wind your arms tighter around his neck and arch your back to create enough room for his arms to pass under you. You could feel him tug at the clasp with one hand, unable to undo it, too distracted by your teeth grazing his bottom lip to adequately focus on the task at hand, which was to get you fully naked.

He just wanted to see you, why was this so fucking difficult?

“Tom, just let me-” you began to say, but Tom quickly cut you off with a firm “no” before fully sitting back on his heels, still leaning over you. His other hand now joined the first in trying to unclip your bra. Propping yourself up on your elbows, your head rolled back, an exaggerated sigh leaving your mouth. You weren’t sure why he insisted on always taking off your bra for you, but boy did he need the practice. As many times as he has tried and you demonstrated, it always took him a few moments, his fingers fumbling with the delicate clasp.

“Oh, for fucks sake-” you snapped, giving up and scooching up to sit up straight, Toms hands falling from behind you and settling in your knees. You didn’t have time for this tonight. His back straightened as he sat up to watch you work your magic, the outline of his thick cock on display under his grey sweatpants catching your attention, all but making you drool. You reached your hands behind you, swiftly undoing the clasp and beginning to tug the delicate straps down your shoulders.

“I almost had it,” you laughed as Tom attempted to salvage what was left of his ego, causing him to pout at you. Why was he so darn cute?

“Maybe on a day when I’m not as tired,” you said, fully pulling the bra from your body, “you can finally get it right, but right now we’re on borrowed time. Head can only boost my energy for so long.”

Tom rolled his eyes briefly before redirecting them to your chest, his hands traveling up from your knees to your shoulders to push you back onto the bed. He resumed his position above you, still fully clothed while you lay under him, completely exposed. His legs settled on either side of one of your thighs, his cock pressing firmly into your leg, straining against his pants. Another wave of chills, which Tom noticed, ran down your body as a gust of wind blew into the room, the cold causing your nipples to harden immediately.

“You cold?” he smirked, bringing a hand up to pinch your left nipple, rolling the bud teasingly between his thumb and index finger. You squinted your eyes at him, which caused him to chuckle.

“Yes, actually-” before you could finish, Toms’s fingers stilled and he gestured over to the open window, his head turning to follow his hand, asking if he should close it. Cupping his cheeks between your hands and turning his face back to you, you exclaimed, “No, oh my god, just fuck me already!”

The look of surprise on Tom’s face at your outburst was that of pure shock, as he very evidently did not expect you to be so desperate. Alternatively, the look on your face was one of slight annoyance as well as desperation and it set Tom into a frenzy. Your eyes were stars again; deep and dark and gleaming with desire. He swore he could see every constellation, every supernova, every inch of the cosmos in your beautiful eyes. After a moment, he whispered, “As you wish,” before leaning down to capture your lips in a softer, slower kiss.

Tom relished this moment. He was with you, the most important, precious person in his life and he got to see you like this. Which reminded him: he was still clothed. You seemed to have had a similar thought, as he felt your delicate fingers graze the sides of his torso as you searched for the hem of his shirt. Finding it, you started pulling it up, allowing Tom to break away from the kiss to pull the t-shirt over his head and chuck it somewhere into the room before reconnecting his lips with yours.

You raked your nails down his pecs as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips. The sensation caused Tom to exhale into the kiss, eliciting a giggle from you. He broke away from your lips, ghosting over your jaw before settling on your neck in a spot he had yet to leave a mark on. You traced your hands down his muscular chest and over the prominent grooves of his abs, settling on his waistband and undoing the loose bow he’d tied. Pushing his sweats and boxers down at the same time, he kicked them off, letting them fall over the foot of the bed and land on the ground with a soft thud. His cock audibly slapped against his lower abdomen, the head red and already leaking precum. Reaching down with one hand, you wrapped your fingers around his length, spreading the sticky fluid around his sensitive tip with your thumb causing him to rut into your hand. You pumped your hand a few times slowly, using your fingers to press against that one extra sensitive spot right under the head, making Tom gasp against your neck.

You could feel Tom’s hands reach down to push your legs open for him to settle between them, the tip of his dick mere inches from your entrance. He was now out of reach, and he hissed softly at the loss of contact between your hand and his very erect cock. His arms rested on the bed on either side of your head, hot breath fanning over your face. His eyes were half-open and glossy as he looked down at you, writhing under him, waiting for him to fill you.

“Ready?” he whispered against your lips. Since day one, Tom always asked for explicit consent before, always making sure that you were comfortable. You loved it. It was never a mood killer, in fact, it made the whole interaction that much more intimate.

“Yeah,” you whispered breathlessly as you gazed up at him, nodding slightly. You tilted your head up to catch his lips in another kiss, full of passion and desire and love. God, you loved this man so much it would surely be the death of you.

After a few moments, he pulled back, looking you directly in the eyes and whispering a quiet “okay”, one of his hands moving down to hold his dick, running the tip through your soaked folds, grazing your clit, and causing you to jump at the unexpected feeling. Guiding himself in, he slowly slid into your drenched core until his hips were flush with the backs of your thighs. Tom’s eyes fluttered shut, and his eyebrows furrowing as a exhale of pleasure left his lips at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. “Fuck...” He grunted through clenched teeth.

He waited like that, buried inside your tight pussy, letting you adjust to the feeling of his cock inside you. And he’d wait like that until you would tell him to move. While he waited his lips ran over your neck and shoulder, leaving soft, loving kisses in their wake. After a few moments, you tugged on his messy hair, signaling him to look up at you. “Move,” you pleaded quietly before he pressed his lips to yours and adjusted himself to begin moving. Your eyes fell closed as he pulled his hips back slowly, until he was almost out, then snapped them forward in one fluid motion, causing you to yelp. He eased into a steady rhythm, rocking his hips, hitting that one spot deep inside you that made you yelp every time the tip of his dick hit it.

“Y/n/n, open your eyes.” He whispered sweetly against your skin as he left soft kisses on your cheek and jawline. You complied, letting your eyes slowly flutter open and look up at the ceiling, Tom soon emerging from the crook of your neck to meet your gaze, smiling. You took this opportunity to admire him as he hovered above you. His short hair was a sweaty, tousled mess, sticking up in odd directions from your fingers tugging at it earlier. His thin, pink lips were now swollen and darker from your fervent kisses. His freckled cheeks were flushed a deep pink. His dark brown eyes made you melt, looking down at you in a way that made you forget about everything else going on in the world. It was just the two of you, in the home you shared, making love.

You snaked your arms around Tom’s toned body, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents on his shoulder blades, pulling him as close as you could get him as his thrusts sped up, becoming sloppier. His hand slipped between your bodies and rubbed rapid circles around your already overly sensitive clit. Gasps and moans fell from both of your lips. You could feel the familiar knot already tightening in your abdomen as his thrusts became more erratic. He knew you were close, your walls clenching around him as he relentlessly pounded into you, chasing his own high to catch up to you.

“Tom- Tommy I’m close.” Your words were music to his ears, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. He dropped his head back into the crook of your neck, littering your skin with kisses to muffle the loud moans that threatened to spill from his throat that he knew would certainly annoy the neighbors. One of your hands traveled up the base of his neck into his hair, closing your finger in his curls, pulling on them gently the way you knew drove him crazy.

“I know,” he panted against your neck, “me too.” His fingers never stilled, continuing to rub fast, tight circles against your clit until you crashed over the edge, the knot in your stomach snapping for the third time that night, pleasure-filled spasms racking your body, and loud moans spilling from your lips. A few more rough thrusts and the muscles in his shoulders tensed, his body lurching against yours as he came, releasing inside you. His lips found yours as you both tumbled over the precipice in unison, one of his arms wrapping around your waist and snaking up your back, his hand settling between your shoulder blades. He held you up like that, your back slightly arched and your breasts pressed against his chest as he continued to sporadically buck up inside you, riding out both your highs until he couldn’t support his weight anymore and he collapsed on top of you, still inside you.

You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gently placed his forehead against yours, both of you panting as if you had just run a marathon. You both stay like that for a few moments, chests meeting with every inhale, breathing the same air. Groggily, your eyes open only to find Tom already looking at you, his dark chocolate eyes soft and a small smile gracing his lips as he admired you in your post-orgasm bliss. Your cheeks were flushed, dark eyes hidden behind half-closed lids, and lips a deep pink and kiss-swollen.

"What?" You asked, placing your hand on the side of his face, stroking his cheekbone delicately with your thumb. He leaned deeper into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your soft hand caressing his face.

"Nothing," he muttered, "You're just amazing."

"Amazing in bed?" You asked sarcastically, a cheeky grin spreading across your lips, "Thanks, I try."

"No-" he starts, before seeing the bewildered look on your face and correcting himself, "well, yes, you are, but I meant in general. I love you so much Y/n, I don't know what I'd do without you."

You looked up at him in surprise. Moments of vulnerability like this were not uncommon between the two of you. You both frequently told the other how much they meant to you, how you couldn’t imagine life without the other person. And yes, this did usually occur right after sex, when both your emotions and hormones were at a high. No matter how many times he said things like this you could never get used to the sound of his voice saying those words to you.

“How did I get so lucky?” You wondered aloud, continuing to run your thumb over his cheek.

“Dunno,” he said cheekily, shrugging his shoulders, “good karma?”

Your melodic laugh filled his ears, your eyes closing as you giggled at his stupid joke. He leaned down to kiss you, cutting off your laughing. Your arms wound around his neck again as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips, making you groan. After a moment he pulled back, placing a kiss on your cheek and gently pulling out of you, flopping onto the bed next to you. He pulled you into his side, holding you in his arms. You nuzzled your head against his chest, his heart still beating rapidly under your hand. You two laid like that for several minutes, sweaty and warm, stuck to one another.

Your eyelids began getting heavy and you almost slipped off into a deep sleep before Tom shifted under you, gently rolling you off him and getting up to go to the bathroom. You could hear water running for a few seconds before shutting off and Tom emerged from the doorway holding a washcloth. He sat down on the edge of the bed and used the warm towel to clean up the mess between your legs before setting it down on the bedside table. He leaned down, kissed your forehead, and mumbled something against your temple. "Wanna go again?"

Your eyes shot open. He flashed you a crooked smile, raising his one messy eyebrow suggestively. Is he serious?

“Tom, I’m so tired-” you started, but he cut you off with a peck on the lips, short and sweet.

“That’s not what I asked love,” his voice was lower, seductive, as he maneuvered to hover over you again, his head dipping into the crook of your neck to lay more kisses down on your already heavily marked skin. He is serious, oh my god.

You hesitated for a moment before caving in, “Yeah…” you trailed off as he nipped at your collarbone, “but I have no energy anymore.”

“That’s alright darling,” he whispered into your ear, sending chills down your spine at the pet name that he knew would drive you crazy, “you just relax and let me do all the work.”

-

A/N: The amount of times Grammarly told me I had errors when I was writing this when I didn’t was ridiculous oml lol but hey it’s done!! I’m really proud of it obviously I will keep writing and will get better, but hey my first fic and I don’t hate it. anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this, requests are open right now so if you would like a short lil blurb feel free to send me something! 

Tags: @hollandprkr​ @itstaskeen​

[ratonnhhaketon]

Still Breathing

Read on Ao3 | Next Chapter

Summary: Six months after the defeat of Thanos, the world is still in chaos. The threat of the Flag Smashers combined with the new headstrong Captain America means it's time for Valencia Zicari to help save the world one more time. But, in doing so, she also has to pick up the pieces of a broken relationship.

Warnings: Major TFATWS spoilers, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Slow-Burn, John Walker (just in general)

A/N: HHH, new fic time! TFATWS has been consuming my brain these past few weeks and it was only a matter of time before I made another oc and wrote for Bucky. I’ve had this in the works since the first episode but I’m super excited to finally be ready to start posting! This fic will be relatively short but I do also plan on doing a prequel fic eventually to further flush out my marvel oc, Valencia Zicari. I apologize that this starts off kinda slow, with just two phone calls at the beginning, but it will pick up a lot in the upcoming chapters. In the meantime if you have any questions or comments about the fic or Val’s story, don’t hesitate to send them my way! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Your Number On Speed Dial

Bucky’s eyes shot open, his throat closing and lungs gasping for air. He felt the sweat covering his body, the thin blanket tangled between his legs. The cool metal of his dog tags swung against his chest as he sat up, chest heaving as he sucked in breaths and tried to regain his breathing. He looked around his surroundings, slowly calming down as he noticed he was in his apartment. 

Another goddamn nightmare. 

Realizing he was alone, Bucky instinctively reached up onto the chair next to him for his cellphone. He flipped open the phone, eyes squinting to adjust to the light of the small screen in front of him. He noticed the time, 3:08 am. While he knew that she would more than likely still be up and wouldn’t mind talking, he felt guilty for instinctively reaching out for her this late. Still, he let his hand press accept and after only two rings he heard her familiar voice pick up. 

“Hi Buck,” she said with a smile, exhaustion evident in her voice.

“Hi,” he replied with a hoarse voice, sleep still clinging to his vocal chords. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” she said with a small laugh. “But, yeah. Probably. I’ve been working my ass off trying to get in contact with Fury and nothing is working.”

“Not even through the SHIELD lines?”

She sighed, a hand coming up to rub at her temples. “I’ve tried, but he’s ‘on vacation’ and is only taking messages if they’re life or death.” 

“I mean, shouldn’t he be able to make an exception for you? Given, y’know..”

“Unfortunately I lost the ‘you’re my adoptive daughter’ privilege when I decided to grow up and join the Avengers.” Bucky chuckled in response, his nightmare finally starting to fade from the back of his mind. “I’m just.. worried about Wanda. The whole situation still isn’t sitting right with me, especially since any information has been classified and no one at all can access it.”

“Val,” Bucky said quietly, his metal hand coming up to rub against the chain hanging around his neck. “When was the last time you took a break?” 

He heard an audible sigh over the phone and a pause before she spoke up. “Not since half of the world disappeared.” 

“Well, how about this. Thursday, you finally put all of that aside for a few hours and we can grab lunch. I’ll buy.” 

She thought it over for a moment, Bucky’s breath hitching in his throat in the few seconds it took before she spoke up. “Yeah, that sounds nice. We can go to that sushi place you used to take me to.” 

“Sounds perfect, doll. I’ll see you then. Now go get some rest.” 

“You too, old man.” 

~~~~~

Valencia stood in the common room of the compound, a scowl present on her face as she watched the tv. John Walker’s Good Morning America interview was playing at a low volume. She hadn’t even met the man yet and already hated him. Partly because of how he talked about Steve without knowing the first thing about him, and partly because every journalist in the state of New York had been contacting her in an attempt to interview her about the new Captain America. Pulling her eyes away from the screen, she noticed her phone vibrating to announce an incoming call. She answered, a smile tugging at her lips for the first time in the past day. “Hey Bucky.”

“Hi,” he said shortly. She could feel the anger in his voice. “Have you seen the news?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, her scowl returning to her face. “Everyone has been bothering me about it for the past day. I had to tell Pepper that if one more reporter asked to take a statement from me I’d throw someone out of a window.”

“Jeez. Little harsh, don’t ya think?” 

“Probably,” she said with a small laugh. 

“Hey, have you talked to Sam recently?”

“Yeah, I was just talking to him earlier before you called. He was telling me about having to go to Munich today, something about the Flag Smashers? I don’t know, he didn’t really give me a lot of information.” 

“No, that's great. Thanks, doll. See you Thursday.” 

“Alright, Buck. See you then.” 

~~~~~

Any normal person would be astonished by the amount of trouble one person could get into in the span of 18 hours. But, in terms of being an Avenger, it’s just a normal Wednesday. Especially when it’s Sam and Bucky’s fault. But, Valencia still found a way to be freaking out when Pepper rushed into her room, shoving a phone into her face to announce that Bucky had a warrant out for his arrest. And had subsequently ended up in a Baltimore jail. 

In under an hour she had flown down to the city and found the facility Bucky was being held in. She pulled open the door to the jail, eyes quickly scanning the crowd of people before landing on Bucky’s literal partner in crime. 

She made a beeline straight for the dark haired man. “You want to explain to me what’s going on here, Sam Wilson?” Eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a tight line.

Upon seeing her he pushed himself out of his chair. “Val! How ya’ been? You been doing okay?”

“Oh cut the shit, Sam. You better have a good explanation for why I found out that Bucky not only had a warrant out for his arrest, but then ended up in a Baltimore jail leaving me to haul ass down here to figure out what in the hell is happening.” 

“First, I need you to calm down. Promise me you won’t freak out?” 

She glared at him. “Are you-” 

“Val,” he said in a stern tone. 

She let out a huff before nodding. “Alright, fine. I’m calm.”

“He helped me with that mission in Munich I told you about and then wanted to introduce me to someone in Baltimore. And he may have missed his therapy appointment in the process.”

“He missed-!” Val immediately yelled out, voice louder than anticipated, which drew the attention of the people around them. Sam put an arm around her shoulder and led the two of them over towards an unoccupied side of the room. “Sam, are you serious? He’s been doing so well! He put in so much effort to make sure he made the appointments and you let him go with you?”

“First of all, I told him repeatedly that I didn’t want him coming, but you know how stubborn he is.”

She let out a defeated sigh and dropped her hands to her sides. “So what do we do now?” 

“Well lucky for you they’re actually releasing him.” 

Before Val could reply she was cut off by the sound of heels clicking before a familiar voice spoke near them. “Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She reached out to shake his hand. “I’m Dr. Raynor. I’m James’s therapist. It’s good to see you again, Valencia.” 

Val gave her a smile. “Good to see you too, doc.”

“So nice to meet you. You two already know each other?”

“I took Bucky to the first few of his appointments to make sure that he would, y’know, actually go. But that was before..” she waved a hand in the air, “everything.” 

Sam nodded. “Well thank you, Dr. Raynor, for getting him out.”

“Oh, that wasn’t me.” 

From across the room a booming voice spoke up, instantly grabbing their attention. “Christina!” The three of them all turned in unison and were met with none other than the new Captain America himself, taking pictures with a bunch of fans. “It’s great to see you again.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know him?” Sam spoke up with a frustrated sigh. 

“Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day.” 

“I heard you were working with Bucky, so I thought I’d step in.” Val watched as he approached the group, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. “Miss Zicari, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been trying to reach out for a formal introduction for several days now.”

“It’s Agent, actually. And unlike you I’ve had a lot of other pressing matters that required my attention.” 

“Right. Well, anyway. Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.”

“What?”

“We haven’t finished our work. Who authorized this?”

“Um,” John used both hands to gesture up towards himself. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up.” 

Val’s attention went from John to the sound of a metal door closing behind her. Her head turned towards the sound and she was met with none other than a familiar set of blue eyes side-eyeing the blonde man in front of her. She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a half-smile as his head turned and saw hers. Almost instantly the token frown he wore at all times faded and turned into his own partial smile. She walked over to him, her arms finding their way around his neck subconsciously. “Hey, Buck,” she breathed as his arms wove around her middle, pulling their bodies flush together. 

“Hey to you too,” he said with a small laugh. “Pepper finally let you leave the compound?” 

She pulled away to look at him. “Less her letting me leave and more so her immediately getting me a flight and shoving me out the door when she found out you got arrested.”

“Alright lovebirds, break it up.” Dr. Raynor said from behind them. Val’s arms dropped to her side and before she had the chance to correct her, the woman spoke up again. “James, condition of your release, session now.” Bucky let out an audible groan, rolling his eyes slightly, to which Val couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “You too, Sam.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be out here with Val.”

“That wasn’t a request.” 

She pulled her phone from the pocket of her leather jacket and noticed an incoming call. “Just go, I’ll be outside. I gotta take this anyway.” Val walked outside of the jailhouse, sliding a thumb across the screen to answer the call in the process. She partially paid attention to what Pepper was telling her as the new Captain America walked past her, obviously checking her out with a side-eye as she leaned against the chipped bricks. Her eyes narrowed at him as he turned to steal another glance her way before turning her eyes away and down the opposite side of the road. 

“Yeah, he’s okay… no, I don’t know the specifics of how it works out with the pardon... I’ll keep you updated, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be back any time soon. I kinda feel like I’ll be joining the idiots on whatever they plan on doing next… Alright, I will. Keep me updated on the whole Westview situation and tell Morgan to stop stealing the snacks from my room. Oh, haha. Take care, Pepper.”  

As she hung up the phone she saw the door next to her swing open with a visibly angry Sam walking out of it. Bucky trudged out a few seconds later, looking angry but more upset than the man in front of him. As the door started to close behind him he saw Val and walked over to her.

“Do you think Steve was wrong about me?” She could tell he was fighting back tears by the way his voice cracked at the end.

Her hands cupped his face. “Bucky, no, absolutely not. Why would you say that?”

He looked away, not able to look her in the eye. After all the nights they spent together, her talking him down from a nightmare, reassuring him and chasing the negative thoughts away, he couldn’t admit that part of him still felt that same way. “It.. doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s making you this upset, then yes it does.” 

He let out a huff as her thumb began to lightly rub against the stubble on his cheek. “Sam shouldn’t have given up the shield.” 

“I know, Buck, I know. But there’s nothing we can do now, so let’s just try to figure out what’s happening with..” she lifted a hand from his face and used it to make vague gestures around them. “Everything right now.” 

The loud siren from a police cruiser halted their conversation, the sound making Val physically jump. She looked towards the source of the sound and scowled. This asshole again. “Gentlemen,” John’s eyes scanned Val’s figure quickly before adding, “and lady. Good to see you again.” Begrudgingly, she followed Sam and Bucky’s lead and walked towards the blonde haired man and his sidekick. “Look, if we divide ourselves we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.” 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do you got?”

“Should she be hearing this?” John gestured to Val. 

She scoffed. “I’m on board now, so out with it.” 

“Alright. Well the leader’s name is Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians that have been helping Karli move from place to place. They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe. We think that she's taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.”

“Well there’s been hundreds of those put up across the planet since The Blip,” Valencia interjected. “So I guess you’ll have to look real hard.”

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” John shot back, annoyance prevalent in his voice.

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” Bucky spoke up, patience quickly being stretched thin.

“No, we don’t know, Bucky,” Walker’s voice rose dramatically. “It’s only a matter of time before we find out.” 

Bucky cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing at the man in front of him. “Things are really tense for you, aren’t they Walker?” Val rested a gentle hand against Bucky’s chest, holding him back as a reminder not to do anything irrational- although she definitely wanted him to. 

Sam approached the super soldier, putting a hand in the air to further make him back off. “Take it easy. Look, Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorizations you have to get. We're free agents. We're more.. flexible. So it wouldn't make sense for us to work with you.” 

The trio started to walk off before Walker stood up from the cruiser and spoke. “A word of advice, then.” The three of them turned to look at him once again. “Stay the hell out of my way.” 

Knowing that it wasn’t worth it to get a final word in, Sam put a hand on either of their shoulders and pushed them to keep walking away. Once they were a reasonable distance down the street, Val turned to Bucky and noticed he was deep in thought. “What’s on your mind, Buck?” she asked with a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. 

“Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said “my people”...” he trailed off, still staring ahead. 

“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant-” Sam tried to correct him before Bucky cut him off. 

“No, he meant HYDRA.” He paused for a moment, feet coming to a stop as he looked between the pair next to him. “HYDRA used to be my people.” 

“Bucky,” Val spoke up cautiously.”

Sam scoffed. “Not a chance.” 

“Walker doesn’t have any leads.” 

“I know where you’re going with this, no.”

“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia.” 

“Oh, you cannot be serious,” Val said as she dragged a tired hand over her face. 

“So you’re just gonna sit in a room with this guy?” 

Bucky hesitated for a moment, obviously not thinking about his idea that much ahead of time. “Y-yes.” 

Val sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Out of all your ideas, this has got to be the dumbest.” She looked at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go see Zemo.”

[dinogoofy]

Kung Lao x F! Reader- part 3.

A miniscule bit of Angst, a Lotta bit of fluff. Wanted to give you guys a treat before I ripped your heart out with Kabal's incoming story and Scorpion's part two.

----

The Warm feeling of Kung Lao against you was more than welcome in the cold night. He tugged on you a bit, separating the kiss to give you a smug look as he tugged you into a straddle across his waist. You rolled your eyes. 

"Ya'know, you're being pretty lively for a man who was dying not even thirty minutes ago." He laughed, cupping your face again and bringing you in for a short kiss. 

"Kiss of life, perhaps?" You kissed him again with a smile.

"It's more like 'random antidote' but sure." Rolled his eyes this time, kissing you yet again. His lips against yours made you feel fuzzy, he was a surprisingly good kisser, for a man with presumably no experience. Your hands trailed up his chest, avoiding his open wound. His tongue gingerly licked your bottom lip when-

"Ahem." You shot up, panicked at the sound of the deep voice. Kung Lao's face shifted from pure confusion to anxiety. You rolled off of him as fast as you could, standing up with a red face.

"Um- Lord Raiden- You're back early!" He did not look happy. This was uncomfortable. Kung Lao sat up slowly, wincing at his bad side. Raiden looked over at him, and Lao silently grabbed his hat, resting it in his lap. You would've snickered if you weren't scared shitless. 

"I heard about the ambush and took it upon myself to check up on the two of you. It seems I've returned at the wrong time." You face was so flushed it felt like you were on fire. Part of you wishes you were on fire. Then mabye you wouldn't have to worry about the lecture you knew you were about to hear Raiden. You folded your arms, partly because of the cold night and partly because you suddenly felt very self conscious. After a moment of silence Raiden spoke again.

"Kung Lao, if you can stand, I would like to speak to you in private." Kung Lao nodded, wincing again as he stood. He put his hat back on as he and Raiden walked off into the forest, neither of them spared a glance at you. You felt like you were wilting. What had happened to all that luck you had? 

You sighed. There was no point in anxiously sitting here. You walked in the opposite direction of Raiden and Kung Lao to search for some firewood. 

You tried your best to distract yourself with the sound of the leaves crunching under your feet. But it was difficult to not worry.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You should've known better. A relationship with Lao… it just wasn't possible. You were a fool for thinking it could work out. Or maybe he was the fool for trying.

Neither of the thoughts sat right in your stomach. You kinda felt like you were going to throw up. 

The first fallen branch you found was big enough to satisfy the fire, and you took your knife out to cut it into small sticks. Hacking away at it like it was therapy. 

Raiden and Kung Lao had already returned by the time you got back. It was to dark to see Lao's expression, but the sinking feeling in your stomach was telling you to just let the whole thing go. It was nice for the two seconds that it had lasted.

"We will be traveling to Kitana Kahns Palace to rest. In the morning we will meet with our hostess and Liu Kang to go over what has happened today." Your face expressed anxiety, you pressed your lips together in a thin line out if nervousness. Raiden sighed.

"-anything that happened during the ambush, today." You sighed a bit. Nervously smiling at the god. His chronicly stern face hadn't changed the entire time. You prayed that he would spare Kung Lao any punishment. 

You kept your head down as the three of you portaled to Kitana's palace.

Servants were waiting for you when you arrived, letting you know that the Kahn and Liu Kang had already retired for the night. You numbly followed the servants as they led you to your quarters, convincing yourself that you didn’t need to look back at Lao, or Raiden for that matter. You mumbled a goodnight as you gingerly opened your door and slipped inside.

You'd stayed here before, but the architecture and decor never failed to impress. You smiled as you traced the patterns on the wall, tugging off your boots by the bed and slumping onto the cushion.

You took a deep breath for a moment, letting your eyes flutter closed. The pang in your chest becoming increasingly more insistent as you thought about Kung Lao again. You brought a hand up to your lips, blushing as you recalled the awful position Raiden caught the two of you in. You hated how sad you felt. To think that they said you were lucky. You were the literal incarnation of Lady luck, and yet today had been a disaster. Ambush, dying best friend, recovering best friend, changing the definition of "best friend", and then getting him ripped away from you.

How lucky.

You shouldn't still be caught up on this. It's over. Go to bed.

You sat up for a moment so you could peel back the covers, crawling in and settling down, too exhausted to change. You comfortably curled up, barely starting to drift away when there was a knock at the door. 

You huffed. Visitors, at this hour? Gross. You groggily lifted yourself out of bed, stumbling to the door. You yawned as You turned the knob. 

"Hello?-" Kung Lao pushed past you quickly, silently shutting the door. Your heart skipped a beat, but you had to shake that fluttery feeling from your system. He was still in his bloodied clothes for Godsakes!

"Kung Lao, what do you think you're doing?" You whispered, crossing your arms as he turned around to face you with that terribly handsome smirk on his face. 

"Peacfully sleeping in my own room, obviously." You scoffed, but was unable to stop yourself from smiling wide. Kung Lao rested his back against the door.

"You and I both know that Raiden won't believe that." He smiled again, taking a step forward towards you, so close you could feel his breath. 

"Then mabye he'd be more forgiving if I said you were dressing my wounds?" If your face wasn't flushed before, it certainly was now. You frowned at the close proximity, remembering what happened before. Kung Lao looked confused, and almost hurt when you stepped away and sat on the bed. 

"What's wrong?" You laughed bitterly.

"What's wrong? Lao, Lord Raiden just caught us- and in the woods-!" You were stuttering as you desperately tried to form a coherent sentence. You were fidgeting with your hands, not able to bring yourself to look him in the eye. You weren't sure why. The space next to you on the bed sunk down, and one of Lao's hands reached out to gingerly hold your own.

"You worry to much," Worry to much?! What the hell Lao!? You snatched your hand away.

 

"Well then, forgive me for being worried about your livelyhood as a shaolin." He stiffened, and sighed. He didn't try to reach out for your hands again.

"When I spoke with Raiden, he also expressed his worries about the vows…" You felt that sinking feeling in your chest again. Way to rub in the salt. You felt goosebumps appear when he lightly slid his arm around your waist. You flushed, and when you looked at him his face was so close you could feel his breath.

"...but he's not going to say anything. He believes that he has no right to interfere with our personal lives as long as it doesn't interfere with Earthrelm's protection." The immediate rush of relief was heavenly.

"Why didn't you just start with that when you came in!" You scolded, playfully hitting his chest. Lao fell back on the bed dramatically, laughing as he did. You smirked, rolling over to straddle him just like you had done earlier Tickling his sides this time but staying away from his wound.

He laughed at the attempt, easily grabbing your hands and pulling them down with his own on either side of his head. The giddy, fuzzy feeling was back, and this time you couldn't imagine it leaving. 

"I think I'm getting a sence of déjà-vu." Lao mused. You scoffed, leaning down and ghosting your lips over his. 

"I'm surprised you even remember that first kiss. You were so out of it you could barely sit up." He smiled as you leaned your forehead against his own.

"Forget the first kiss with you? I'm offended that you think I could." You rolled your eyes, finally pressing his lips against yours own. 

[nadisabug]

Pairing: Osamu Miya x fem! reader

Genre: angst </3

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, slight alcoholism

Word Count: 1.4k

Requested: @kohi-zeri

Summary: Osamu was a stubborn man who never admitted his wrongs. But late nights spent thinking about nothing but you can change a man.

A/N: this one is based off of baby come back by player and is super angsty. Thank you for the beta and help @snoozless I may make a part two if people are interested in that so let me know!

Haikyuu Masterlist // Love Song Event Masterlist

Osamu stumbled to his door, crashing against it as he tried to enter his apartment. The shock sent some clarity to his head. Keys, he needed keys. Leaning against the door, he dug his hand into his pocket and fished around. Sharp, jagged metal scraped his hand, but he felt numb to it. The alcohol buzzing in his veins was enough to dull the pain. He pulled the keys out and promptly dropped them. 

He cursed. 

Osamu leaned down to pick them up, and with him the world tilted and spun. It felt like a broken clock hand, ticking then resetting. Spinning, then clicking back into place. 

Grabbing at the keys blindly, he managed to pick them up. As he stood back up, he had to hold onto the door handle to keep himself from falling. He brought the keys up to his face to select the correct key before jamming it into the lock. 

He fell through the door once it opened, barely catching himself in time. Osamu righted himself and closed the door behind him, barely remembering to throw the lock back into place. He stumbled to his bedroom and threw himself face first onto the bed. He laid there, face buried in the covers and started to drift off…

That is, until his phone began to ring. 

He ignored the first call. 

And the second. 

Once the third began to sound he rolled over onto his back and picked up the phone. 

“Whadda fuck you want?” He slurred. 

“Fuck man, calm ‘yerself. Just checkin to make sure you got home okay,” Atsumu’s familiar drawl poured through the speaker. “You were fucken out of it, bro. But again, you insisted on walken yerself-”

“Well, I’m home alright,” Osamu snapped. 

Astumu paused for a moment. “You gonna be alright?”

“Fuck you mean?”

“It’s been a month today,” Atsumu said softly. “‘Ts why I didn’t give you shit for calling me out to drink with you.”

“Oh it has?” Osamu feigned ignorance. He knew damn well what today was. Why did shitty ‘Sumu have to remind him?

“Cut yer shit ‘Samu. It’s okay to hurt but doing this…” Atsumu sighed. “‘M worried bout ya.”

“I’m fine,” Osamu spat. “Besides, what right do I have to hurt? I’m the one who broke up with her.”

“Yeah, but still-”

“I’m home fine. Now goodnight shithead.”

Atsumu sighed. “Goodnight, just rem-”

Osamu hung up. 

Spending all my nights, all my money going out on the town / Doing anything just to get you off of my mind

Osamu stirred. His brain was still foggy, and his room still dim. He stretched out on the bed, pulling his arms up and over. His muscles felt tight and sore, probably from the practice ‘Sumu talked him into. 

He sighed as he relaxed onto the bed, a dull thrumming in his head. It hurt, and he craved your touch to remedy it. He rolled over and patted the other side of the bed, intending to curl into you.

He opened his eyes. 

Where were you?

You often got up before him, so this was nothing new. You were probably making breakfast for him. He sat up, groggily, and cleared his throat. 

“Y/n? Can you get me some water?” He called out. “My head’s killing me and I don’t-”

His eyes landed on the bare half of the dresser. He still hadn’t moved his stuff over from when you left. 

That’s right.

You weren’t here. 

Osamu felt a wave of emotion hit him as the realization washed over him, leaving him shaken and cold. 

He suddenly felt like an idiot for calling out to you, of course you weren’t here. He did that. He made you leave. 

Osamu laid down and pulled the covers back over him. 

For some reason, it was terribly cold.

He fought hard to swallow the lump in his throat.

But when the morning comes, I'm right back where I started again / And tryna forget you is just a waste of time

“Something bring ya down?”

Osamu looked up at the elderly cashier. She was giving him a soft, small smile. Pity.

“No of course not, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Osamu responded, a little confused. 

“You just look like you have a broken heart,” she smiled sweetly. She had so much care in her eyes. Just like you did when he told you to-

“Since when did they pay you to give out therapy?” Osamu snapped. He couldn’t hold himself back, anger dripped from his voice. 

“S-sorry hun, I just-”

“Well don’t,” he growled. He paid quickly and stormed out of the store. 

He didn’t realize until he got to the car that he forgot his groceries.

All day long, wearing a mask of false bravado / Tryna keep up  smile that hides a tear

Osamu sat nervously checking the clock. Why was his good-for-nothing brother so late? He was supposed to have been here 15 minutes ago. 

He waited longer, and the longer he waited the more he regretted it. 

But then his phone buzzed. 

Osaumu walked as slowly as he could to the door and opened it. On the other side was his shitty brother. Atsumu nodded, and Osamu let him in. 

“Ya know, she was the only one who supported you quittin’ volleyball.”

“Huh?” Osamu closed the door and stared at his brother. 

“Just thinking about it,” Astumu shrugged.

“This isn’t even about her,” Osamu sighed. He walked to the kitchen counter where he already had a bottle and two glasses. 

“Oh, fer fuck’s sake, can you quit lyin’ to me?” Atsumu’s drawl coated his words heavier as his frustration rose. 

Osamu thought about some responses, but he didn’t use any of them. He just looked at the bottle; he couldn’t count how many he had been through this week. 

“I… I can’t sleep without her…” Osamu’s voice was raw with emotion. He had to fight back the lump in his throat. 

Atsumu took the bottle gently from him and placed it in the trash. 

“You know what you need to do. I don’t need to tell ya that.”

And Osamu knew that Atsumu was right. 

But as the sun goes down, I get that empty feeling again / How I wish to God that you were here

Osamu kept walking. 

It was all that he could do. 

He didn’t even bring his head phones, he was too sleep deprived to remember them. He hadn’t been able to sleep, so he decided a walk might tire him out. 

But as he walked it began to rain.

And he kept walking.

He wanted to believe that he was doing this because he deserved it. Like this was his punishment. That’s why he kept walking in the rain, in danger of catching a cold. 

But he knew better when he approached the familiar door. 

He stood there in front of it for god knows how long. He was about to leave when he saw a light flick on in the house. 

Fuck it.

He reached out and knocked. 

Then waited. 

Then the door opened.

“What?” It was a short word. Clipped, sharp. It stabbed Osamu right in the chest. You were upset. You had every right to be. But all he could do was soak in the sight of you. 

You were standing on the other side of the door, clad in your old pajamas. He used to give you shit about those ratty things, about how you both had money to get a new pair. You always just said that they were comfy. 

But right now he couldn’t imagine you in something more beautiful.

“Hello?” You sighed and threw a hand on your hip. 

Osamu struggled to find the words.

Baby come back, any kind of fool could see / There was something in everything about you

“Can we… can we talk?”

“About what?” You sighed. You looked tired. Exhausted. 

“About us… I… I’m sorry… please…” Osamu hated the raw emotion in his voice, but he knew it had come to this. He had to do this. He couldn’t bear another night alone.

You sighed, stepping to the side and motioning for Osamu to come in. “Fine. Talk.”

Osamu walked in and you closed the door behind him. He turned to see you standing at the door impatiently. 

Then he began to talk.

Baby come back, you can blame it all on me / I was wrong, and I just can't live without you

Taglist: {OPEN}

This is bad angst so I didn’t tag those that marked it on my form!

@snoozless , @dv0412 , @milktyama , @keshastourbus 

[themadauthorshatter]

It's been a while since we last checked on Flippy, so let's see how he's doing!

We start with Cuddles this time, who's sitting upside down on a bench when Petunia and Flaky approach him, asking if he's seen Flippy anywhere.

He has not, because he thought Flippy was with Petunia.

Petunia folds her arms and asks why Flippy would be with her for about a half to a week and a half, and Cuddles shrugs; maybe they got REALLY intimate and just needed all of that time together.

Flaky squeals, because it's dirty, and Petunia tells him to get his mind out of the gutter because this is crazy serious.

Cuddles gets up and relentls and asks if they stopped by his house.

They did, and he wasn't there.

Did they check the woods?

Not there either.

The GYM?

He doesn't even BELIEVE in going to the Gym, most days; why GO to a place to workout when you have the equipment at your house or just outside in general?

Cuddles finally realizes that Flippy's MISSING missing, and gets up, joining the girls with finding their friend.

Flaky hopes that Flippy's okay, but Cuddles assures her that he's smart, he wouldn't do anything stupid like run away.

Funny he say that because Flippy IS doing something stupid, staring at a projector that's showing a bunch of war footage, like pictures that NO AVERAGE PERSON should see.

Splendid cringes as turns a small dial on an IV line and watches Flippy struggle to both handle the medicine that's being pumped into him and not flip out.

Thankfully, all that happens is that he vomits in a bucket.

Splenedid stops the medicine and hands Flippy some water, asking if he's really okay with continuing; they've been at this for a while and they're making very debatable progress.

Flippy washes his mouth out and nods. He can keep going.

Splendid hestitately changes the image to a collage of very familiar faces:

Tiger General, Sneaky, and Mouse Ka-Boom.

Flippy gasps at seeing them and asks how the hell Splendid got these pictures.

Splendid admits it was a simple internet search, because people spread information around like it's a puff puff pass, especially if said information is a tragedy and a victory. He can give Flippy a few minutes, if he needs it.

Flippy only takes a few seconds seeing the faces of his dead partners and nods.

Splendid gets the IV and medicine going again and Flippy takes a few deep breaths as what I call the "Make Me Sick" medicine(MMS for short)(if MMS is a real thing, I deeply and sincerely apologize. I know there's a name for the drug/"medicine" used for aversion therapy, but I forgot it🙏🙏🙏) runs through his system. TV perspective, his eyes dart between Mouse Ka-Boom and Sneaky and he sees old memories of the three in training, i.e. standing still while a drill sergeant yells in their faces and/or tries to make them laugh, having a meal together, goofing around before bed, and even comforting each other after getting tased and pepper sprayed as a part of training.

Flippy's eyes go 'killer instinct-y' and he fights a gag as he remembers how they all promised to meet again once they were out of the army, and how both looked at him with shock, sorrow, and betrayal because of how he accidentally killed them.

The memories change to taking on Tiger General 1v1, how he had to fend for himself, got his hands removed, and was almost strangled to death until he ultimately came out on top amd took down the rest of the enemy base.

When I say he vomits, I mean he VOMITS until there's nothing left to get out of his system and he's dry heaving.

Splendid quickly turns off the projector and gets Flippy off the IV, though the veteran tells him he can take more, he just needs a few minutes.

Splendid, however, tells him to call it a day; they've been at this for hours and he's already making phenomenal progress; of course Splendid is not going to TEST it right now because his friend just threw up all of his digestive system.

Flippy sighs and agrees, relinquishing for the day.

Splendid helps him up and asks if he's okay to walk home and Flippy states he's fine; he just wants to go shower and clean himself up after throwing up so much.

The two bid their farewells and Flippy begins a very uneasy walk home.

A bit of context: it's been a week or so since the last part and they've been doing this all day everyday since then, from dawn to dusk, and today they started around MAYBE 4 am in the morning and it is now 12 or 1 pm in the afternoon, so yeah it's time for the Flipster to go home and rest.

Back on track, Flippy's not exactly the best because he needs to get the vomit taste out of his mouth and just feels like crap, so he takes a shortcut home.

He gets there relatively fast and flops onto the couch and falls asleep, exhausted.

He dreams he's with Sneaky and Mouse Ka-Boom, all three playing a mix of Spades and Poker, Sneaky and Flippy speaking in english before translating for Mouse Ka-Boom to understand them; yes, Mouse Ka-Boom speaks french. He understands English well enough, but isn't the best at speaking it, aside from, 'Sir, yes, sir,' 'Sir, no, sir,' and a few insults he picked up from Flippy on accident; he may or may not have gotten the three in trouble because he repeated one of these insults in front of a commanding officer.

Regardless, the three are having a good time before Sneaky asks Flippy a question: How did it feel to throw that knife at him rather than the General? Did he enjoy it? Did he hate Sneaky that much he had to throw a KNIFE through his chest?

Flippy deflates and clarifies that he did not mean to miss the General; it was a heat of the moment thing and he's, admittedly, not good under stress.

Mouse Ka-Boom lowers his cards and asks if cutting him in half was another 'heat of the moment thing,' along with getting them both blown to smithereens.

They change before Flippy's eyes, both mangles and burnt, and Flippy leaves the table, backing away from them.

That is until a hand claps on his shoulder and his own voice tells him to admit that he actually did enjoy killing his friends; it's what he's been trained to do, so what better way to see the reward of all that effort?

Flippy turns and sees himself, who demands he admit it, admit that he's never going to change, that he won't let himself because not only does he like it, he also wants to go back to fighting and wants out of Splendid's Aversion therapy.

Flippy barely gets a word out because his other self tackles him to the ground and starts to choke him, calling him weak, a liar, and a coward, saying he should've died on that mission, not Sneaky or Mouse Ka-Boom.

Speaking of which, the two appear and grab both of Flippy's arms, holding him while he's practically being strangled again.

It gets worse when his other self turns into Tiger General, who laughs that he wouldn't be surprised by such an admission because it took Flippy how many tries to kill him. Might as well return the favor.

Flippy, breathless and trying to break free screams out and wakes up on the floor, though he gets up and runs to the kitchen sink, where he dry heaves and coughs up spit.

He stops after a while and sits against the cabinets, having regrets about the choice to go along with Splendid's idea.

These regrets linger as he walks outside the next day, catching a toy Cub dropeed while and Pop are on a stroll, though Cub is in a wagon.

They walk off, Pop thanking Flippy, and Flippy gets a surprise attack hug from Flaky, who's close to tears because he's been missing.

Cuddles, Giggles, and Petunia also approach, asking where the hell he disappeared to, because they've been looking all over for him.

Flippy apologizes for worrying them and straight up lies, saying he just left town for a little bit to enjoy some quiet time; and to restock on his medicine as soon as he could because he ran out.

Cuddles still lightly punches Flippy on the arm and tells him not to scare them like that again, or they'll put him on a harness or walk around with him in a wagon.

With Flaky now piggybacking him, Flippy muses that it sounds tempting, because he could see everyone getting some excerise because of it.

The group laugh it off and start toward a diner, because they all skipped breakfast and lunch on accident.

Flippy decides to join them, having NOT skipped breakfast, and they head to the diner.

On his back, Flaky asks Flippy if he's okay, because he looks pale and feels tense.

He nods, claiming he's fine, just a little sore from a workout he did while he was away.

Flaky is suspicious, but drops it. FOR NOW.

Cut to them at the diner, all talking and looking over the menu to see what they want, and a visual gag of Cuddles and Giggles having a contest of who can spin longer in their chairs(they're all sitting at the bar).

Flippy is a little uneasy because ANYTHING can trigger his instincts and he doesn't know how well this aversion procedure is going to qork because neither he nor Splendid went out and actually saw if it was working.

Petunia sees his unease and asks if he needs to step outside for a second.

He shakes his head and admits he's just trying to figure out what to eat.

Good thing he's having a hard time, too, because Petunia is not in the mood for grease.

Flaky fakes a gag or an "Eugh," and jokes, "Ew, flirting."

While Flippy laughs, Petunia DARES Flaky to repeat that, because it was her that helped the two get closer.

His laughter dies when a kitchen fire starts on accident right in front if them.

TV/anime perspective, we see the reflection of the fire in Flippy's eyes as they widen and he gasps/whimpers. We don't see his flashback, but we hear about a bomb going off and people screaming in pain. Flippy clenches a fist on the countertop, silent as the fire is put out and everyone relaxes.

While everyone talks about how crazy that just was, Flippy spontaneouly gets sick to his stomach and gags, excusing himself really quick to go to the bathroom.

The group watch and are now very confused, because usually flame triggers him, but he did not go off on them.

Cuddles, being the only boy, follows Flippy, saying that he'll try not to die in the process.

He does not die, but he does see Flippy vomiting into one of the sinks, very violently, I must say.

Cuddles asks if everything's okay, which scares the crap out of Flippy, but the ex-soldier claims he's fine; the fire just got him scared.

Cuddles doesn't really buy it, and asks another question: Has he been eating, AT ALL? Because he looks like he lost a little bit of weight and sick as hell.

While he waters away his mess, washes out, and wipes off his mouth, Flippy admits he has been, as much as he can, at least.

Cuddles still doesn't buy it, asking WHAT he's eating and when.

Flippy leans over the now clean sink and measures his options.

If he tells the truth, there's a chance his friends are not going to take it well.

If he keeps them in the dark, they will be fine, even though he'll feel even more like garbage.

Flippy turns and holds up his hands in surrender. He's been eating venison to build immunity, and because it, honestly, tastes really good.

Cuddles reels on him, asking why he'd do that when he's almost deathly allergic to the stuff.

Flippy apologizes and admits that, yes, he knows it's stupid, but he's just trying to make himself better, in case they have a cookout and someone accidentally brings venison instead of steak.

Cuddles points out that's BS because NO ONE eats venison(whatever it is)(Flippy corrects him that it's deer), but still drops it because Flippy clearly doesn't want to talk about it; guy code.

Flippy thanks him anyway and they rejoin the group, everyone keeping an eye on Flippy as he eats, Flaky especially, because, having known him the longest, she canntell he's both hiding something and isn't as good as he's pretending to be.

HMMMMMMMM????

[yikesharringrove]

Umm, I accidentally deleted the request for this while moving it to my inbox, so here it is. (Also this is like, four months old).

I’m gonna rec this fic which is super well written and adorable

Steve is ftm. (Personally, I’m not a big fan of mpreg unless it’s like, biologically plausible 🤷‍♀️)

Under the cut bc it’s long and there’s a little bit of smut.

-

Billy’s hands were shaking as he raced out of the house.

He had a bag slung over one shoulder, had already put two others in the Camaro.

His dad had gone in hard today. Three days after Billy graduated high school and he’s already calling him a deadbeat, a fuck up. Telling him to get a job like he hasn’t worked every summer and most weekends since he was fourteen.

He lit a cigarette as he slid into the driver’s seat.

He was gonna make one stop on the way outta town.

-

Steve had given Billy a spare key months ago, after he was tired of always having to go downstairs and answer the door.

He liked it when Billy just made his way up, started kissing whatever skin was already exposed and asking Steve if he’s wet.

Tonight, Steve thought, was no different.

Billy was kissing up his calf, mouthing along his knee, a few fingers creeping up the leg of his shorts.

Billy was the best sex he’s ever had. Not a lot of gay guys will go down on Steve, some won’t even fuck him. He had been real hesitant to tell Billy, start having regular sex with his best friend, because he didn’t think Billy would want anything to do with him when he knew what he was bringing to the table.

But Billy had told him not to be an idiot, ate him out, and pounded him into the mattress.

And Steve was in love.

So he let Billy fuck him whenever he pleased, because at least Billy was giving him the time of day, at least he was getting some.

He opened his eyes, smiling lazily down at Billy.

“‘Time is it?”

“Almost two.” Billy was curling two fingers into his waistband, slowly pulling down his shorts, like maybe Steve wouldn’t notice.

Steve lifted his hips, and Billy whipped off his shorts, diving right in for his pussy.

He ate him out with the same fervor he did everything. Making all these gross slurping sounds, sucking on Steve’s cock and shoving his tongue inside him.

He made Steve cum twice on his face, as was the norm, before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and getting right to business.

He fucked Steve like he was mad at him.

He often did. And Steve knew he wasn’t mad at him, moreso mad at the other him, the him that’s ruined Billy’s life since before he was even born.

Steve wasn’t as dumb as everyone thought. Knew that when Billy snuck into his bedroom at odd hours of the night and absolutely ravished him, something bad had happened with his dad.

So when Billy finally rolled off of him, and lit a cigarette, Steve knew better than to ask.

“I’m leaving.” Steve just hummed at him. Billy sometimes stuck around after sex.

But Billy didn’t move.

“Like, leaving Hawkins.” Steve just hummed again. Billy talked a lot about leaving Hawkins. Steve had always secretly dreamed of running away with him. 

Billy just studied his face in the dark, stubbing out his cigarette and rolling over to hols Steve close to his chest.

Steve closed his eyes, let himself pretend.

Pretend that Billy loved him back.

-

He woke up to rustling, Billy getting dressed to leave as weak sunlight began to trickle through his curtains.

“Oh shit, didn’t mean to wake you.”

He smiled lazily at Billy.

“You comin’ back over tonight?” Billy looked stiff.

“Probably not. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah. Later.” Billy was sitting on the end of his bed, had just finished tying on his boots.

And then he moved, quick as a flash to kiss Steve softly before he was thundering down the stairs.

Steve was just falling asleep as the Camaro roared away.

-

Billy had skipped town that night.

And Steve never forgave himself.

-

Steve was leaning over the counter, his head pressed into the cool top of it.

“I threw up all last week, and I just feel like shit.” He had been whining to Robin practically all morning at Family Video.

“Do you think you have the flu?”

“I don’t know, Rob. I mean, my stomach hurts a lot, but like, it feels like I’m just having awful cramps.”

“Are you on your period?”

“Nah. Don’t get it very often with the hormones anymore.”

“Normally I’d suggest pregnancy, but I know you’re in a bit of a dry spell.” He rolled slightly to look darkly at her. “Still no word of Billy?”

“No. The one person in Hawkins that isn’t too transphobic to fuck me, and he skips town.” Steve sighed. “I should’ve known, too. He was being super weird that night.”

“Whatever. When you and I skip town, we’ll have the time of our damn lives, and get you laid.” He laughed softly.

“I’m just gonna go to the doctor this weekend. Get a full physical.”

“Let me know the verdict at and I can come over with some medicine, if you need.”

“Thanks, Rob.”

-

Steve was lying back on the stiff exam table.

He had already given blood and urine samples, and was just waiting for the doctor to tell him what the fuck was wrong with him.

Sometimes his hormones had to be adjusted, and caused all sorts of weird shit to go haywire in his body.

Dr. Mauch was a kind woman, always been pleasant and accepting of Steve, even referred him to an endocrinologist for his hormones.

She didn’t smile when she came in, though. Just sat down at her stool.

“I’m going to go out a limb here and say that this is not news you’ll be happy about hearing.”

Steve felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“You’re pregnant.”

He blinked.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. But you most definitely are.”

“But, but I’m on blockers, and testosterone, and I haven’t had sex in months.”

“I’d say about six months.” His mouth was dry. Billy had left in late May. About six months ago. “And being on hormones is not an effective method of birth control. Some men still get pregnant after taking them.”

“I’m not, I don’t look pregnant.”

“Some people don’t really show their pregnancy. My sister was rail thin the entire time, had a perfectly healthy baby girl. It’s all about your body type.”

“So, so you’re telling me, that I’m six months fucking pregnant.”

“Yes.” He slumped back onto the exam table.

“What are, what are my options?”

“Well, unfortunately, not many. Abortions are only legal in Indiana up to 20 weeks, or five months, or unless the person pregnant is facing severely compromised physical health. There’s always adoption.”

“No one’s gonna want a baby from a trans guy.” She pursed her lips.

“I think that’s a harsh statement. Many people are desperate for babies.” Steve just stared at her.

“So, if I have to take it to term, should I like, go off my hormones.” His stomach gave a lurch at the idea.

“I would recommend it. There’s very little research one pregnancy in transgender individuals. We really don’t know how hormones can affect the baby.” Steve sighed. “I would say, get in with an OB/GYN. I can recommend a few I know and send them your medical history. Your name change and hormone therapy is part of all of it, so hopefully they will be kind.” Steve sighed.

“Thank you, Doc. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry for the disappointing news.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” She gave him a copy of their appointment notes, a list of OB/GYNs for him to research, and a hug before she left.

He drove home slowly, feeling exhausted, like the weight of the fucking world was on his shoulders.

He got home to find Robin sitting on his front porch, her nose buried in a book, a pizza box sitting next to her.

She looked up at him, and he burst into tears.

-

“Look, Max, if he contacts you in any way, tell him to call Steve, okay? It’s important.” Robin was yammering to Max on the phone, trying to get a way to contact Billy.

Steve was laying on the couch, had his shirt rucked up over his stomach, pushing it out and sucking it in, trying to see any change in his body.

“Just give him Steve’s phone number and tell him he’s an asshole.” She hung up the phone, perching on the armrest at Steve’s feet.

“She know where he is?”

“No. She said he ran off and hasn’t contacted her at all. She didn’t even know he was leaving.” She slid onto the couch, let Steve put his feet on her lap. “You think he’d come back? If he knew?”

“I don’t know. I’m not really asking him to. I mean, I don’t think I’m in a place to take care of it, but I kinda just want him to know it exists. Like, I think he deserves that.”

“I get it.” Her voice was soft. She watched Steve stare at his tummy some more. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is just, dysphoria out the wazoo.” Steve huffed a laugh.

“I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. I think ‘cause I’m not showing. I don’t look pregnant, so how can I be pregnant, you know?” He sighed tugging down his shirt. “Going to the doctor’s gonna be a damn nightmare, though. They’re too used to dealing with women. It’s gonna suck.”

-

Steve was right.

Even though his primary care doctor had sent his medical history, he still got deadnamed and misgendered at reception, and intake, and by the nurse, and the doctor when she finally arrived.

They gave him a pelvic exam, getting him in for a sonogram as well.

And as the doctor was moving the imagining wand around on his tummy, and he heard the heartbeat for the first time, something caved inside of him.

A baby. He was having a baby.

And part of him, a really fucking big part of him, was starting to love it.

-

His parents were home for four days.

And Steve had waited for the final day of their homesteading to tell them.

He’s glad he did.

Diner was as quiet as always, and Steve had nearly choked on the words.

“I’m pregnant.”

His father had gotten out his wallet, asked how much an abortion costs.

“I’m too far along for that. Nowhere will legally do it.”

His mother had just stared at him. His father asked how far along he was.

“Close to seven months. I didn’t even know until like, a week and a half ago.”

And his father had stood up, and the yelling began.

“I can’t believe you. You kick up this huge fuss, make us change your name, and the way we refer to you, go around telling everyone your a boy, and you get pregnant like the little slut you are.”

And he had told Steve to back his shit, told him he was not welcome in my house anymore.

And Steve didn’t have a lot of shit he cared about, the clothes he liked fit in one duffel bag.

His mother didn’t look at him as he left.

-

He had called Mrs. Henderson from a payphone.

Nobody else could give him a ride anymore, and he wasn’t expecting her to drop everything and drive him somewhere, but she had freaked out at the words kicked out and for getting pregnant, and told him to stay where he is.

She was there with a tight hug and a travel mug of honey lemon tea within twenty minutes.

Steve had asked for a ride to a youth shelter he had read about, but she shook her head, said you’re coming to live with me and Dusty and Steve had cried in her passenger seat, and again in her guest bedroom.

-

Steve groaned.

He had finally begun showing, just a little bit out a mound near his belly button.

But he felt like shit, had taken to spending most days in bed.

He bat away whoever was shaking him.

“Go away.”

“Steve, it’s Max.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“I found Billy, you asshole. I have his address.” Steve sat bolt up straight.

“You, where is he?”

“Boston. He went east, for some reason. But he sent me a letter, out of the blue, and I told him you had something important to say, but he said he doesn’t have a phone.” She handed him a slip of paper.

“Thanks, Max.” He gave her a weak smile, found her chewing her lip.

“Is he the father? The other father, I mean.” He had told the party about the pregnancy, figured rumors would begin spreading soon enough.

“Yeah. He’s the other father.”

“He wouldn’t have ditched you. If he’d known.”

“I know.”

“He’s not like that.”

“I know.” She stared him down. He kept his face open, honest.

“Are you gonna write to him?”

“Yeah. I just, I don’t really know what to say.”

“Just keep it simple. Tell him he’s got a kid. Let him choose what he wants.”

-

It took Steve almost a month to draft a letter.

He didn’t really know what to say.

He settled on the bare minimum.

I’m pregnant. And it is most definitely, without a doubt, yours. I’m not expecting anything from you. I don’t want money, or for you to move back to Hawkins. I just thought you deserve to know about your kid.

He read the letter about three times, one hand pressed delicately to his little bump.

I’ve decided to keep the baby. I’m going to raise them. You’re welcome to meet them, and be in their life if you choose, but if not, I’m not going to hold it against you.

He sealed the envelope, leaving it on his nightstand.

And then his contractions started.

He didn’t get around to sending it.

-

Claudia was the only person in the room with him when he gave birth.

She held his hand the whole time, coached him through his breathing.

And when his son was born, she pet his head, told Steve how beautiful he is.

-

Steve was slumped face down on the bed.

He had just gotten Oliver down, calmed him down enough for him to finally sleep.

He rolled over, scrubbing a hand down his face.

He had barely slept all week. But Oliver had smiled at him for the first time yesterday.

He turned to lay on his side, zeroing in on the envelope on his nightstand.

He sat up quickly.

Fuck. He needed to send that letter.

He didn’t bother thinking about it, just wrapped his sweater tighter around himself, and hurried to the mailbox. He put the little flag up, leaving the letter in the little inner clasp.

He looked back down at Oliver, running one finger over his fuzzy little head.

-

He didn’t hear from Billy for three weeks.

He knew the letter wouldn’t take more than a few days to get to him, and it would take just as long for Billy to get him back.

He had pushed Billy out of his mind, figured if he wanted to be part of Oliver’s life, he had given him enough of a chance to be.

He put on a thick sweatshirt, had taken to wearing baggy tops to hide his tits, too sore, too big to bind anymore. Oliver squealed at him when he leaned against the side of his crib, reaching out for him.

He strapped him into his stroller to take him on a walk, stopped dead in the doorway.

Billy fucking Hargrove was in the driveway, standing next to the Camaro like he had just gotten out of it.

His eyes were wide, trailing from Steve, to Oliver, and back again.

“Is that my kid?” Billy’s hair was shorter than when he had left.

“Oliver. His name is Oliver.” Billy stepped around the car.

“Can I, can I see him?” Steve brought the stroller down the driveway, taking Oliver out of the stroller.

Billy held him like he was made of gold.

“He’s beautiful.”

“I think he looks a lot like you.” Billy smiled at him.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here, I was waiting for my semester to end.”

“It’s okay. I just, you know. Thought you deserved to know about him.” Billy stared at Oliver, his smile going soft as Oliver squealed, tugging on Billy’s hair.

“I want to be in his life. If that’s okay?”

“Of course it is. He’s your son too.” Billy brushed his thumb down Oliver’s nose.

“Thank you, Steve. And I’m, I’m sorry about how I left. I was going to-” he cut himself off, looking back at Oliver. “I was gonna ask you to come with me. Chickened out last minute.”

Steve’s heart was banging against his rips.

“I would’ve gone with you. Used to dream about running away with you.” Oliver started getting fussy, making disgruntled little huffs. Billy passed him back to Steve. “I was in love with you. You know that?”

“Yeah, I knew that. Was to chicken shit to do anything about it.” Billy was still looking at Oliver, the way he nestled into Steve’s neck. “He loves you a lot.”

“It’s been the two of us for awhile.”

“You’re a good dad. Always kinda figured you would be, though.” Billy took another breath. “You know, you could’ve told me sooner. I would’ve come back.”

“I don’t want you to, to change you life. Don’t quit school, or something.”

“Steve, I got a kid. I want to change my life for him. For, for you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“No never did. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing my family.” Steve hesitated.

“Would you like to come in? Have some breakfast? You could give Oliver his bottle, If you wanted.” Billy’s eyes lit up.

“I’d like that.”

[tuiccim]

Santi (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 2589

Warnings: Angst, language, fluff, a little smut.

Trigger warning: PTSD, Mental Health

Summary: The aftermath of the Caruso Op.

Santi Masterlist

Day 103

A gun held to your head. You see Bucky’s face as Vincent pulls the trigger...

“NOOO!” You scream as you come awake. Bucky is immediately awake and holds you. 

“I’m here, Love. I’m here. You’re okay.” Bucky tells you as you hyperventilate. “Breathe, baby. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

Your heart is beating out of control as the panic attack holds you in its grip. Your emotions are out of control. You can’t calm yourself. You can’t keep the leash on your ability. You can feel yourself spiraling out of control. 

Bucky holds onto your face forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Santi, listen to my voice. Come back to me. I feel you. I feel what you're feeling and I know how scared you are right now. I’m here. Come back to me, Love. Santi, listen to my voice. Breathe. Breathe with me.”

Staring into his eyes you try to breathe with him. The terror slowly subsides and you are able to get a hold of your ability to rein everything in. Then you turn into Bucky sobbing yet again. 

Day 109

A week had passed and everyday was the same. You woke in terror, spent the day just trying to keep it together while everyone treated you with kid gloves, and then had sex with Bucky until you were absolutely exhausted and could sleep. That is, until the terror woke you once again. You couldn’t keep doing this. You knew it. It wasn’t fair to the team. Most of all, it wasn’t fair to Bucky. He comforted you each morning, checked on you throughout the day, and let you use him to exhaustion each night. You couldn’t keep yourself together.

Today, Bucky found you curled on the floor of the shower. The water had long turned cold. You were shivering and sobbing. He picked you up from the floor, wrapped you in a towel, and took you to the bed. 

“Santi, you’re freezing.” Bucky says as he rubs the towel up and down your arms and legs trying to restore warmth. 

You came out of the haze you were in and looked at him, eyes still glassy. “I’m sorry.” 

As Bucky fussed over you, you realized it was time to get help. You couldn’t do this to him anymore. 

That afternoon while Bucky was at a meeting you packed all of his things that were in your room into a box. When he came back, you were sitting on the bed with the box in front of you. 

“Hey Doll. What’s that?” Bucky looks at you confused. 

You take a deep breath, “Your things. I need you to move back to your room.”

“Santi, I…” Bucky begins but you hold up a hand to stop him. 

“You… you are haunted enough. You don’t need my nightmares and emotions, too. I can’t control it right now. I just need to be alone for a while.” You can’t look at him. You know you’ll break down if you do. 

“No. I won’t leave you alone with this. I can handle it.” Bucky says earnestly.

“You shouldn’t have to!” You shout. 

He grabs you, hauls you up against him, and forces you to look at him. “That’s what you do for the people you love. I love you. I want to be here for you. I will be here for you.”

“You will. Just from your room. I can’t…” Your voice breaks, “I can’t do this to you anymore.”

“I won’t leave you. I love you, Santi.” Bucky holds you steady. 

You lift your hands to his face and gently kiss his lips. “I love you, too. But I’m not in my right mind right now. I need some alone time to work on this.”

“We can get help. Do this together.” Bucky says again. 

“I am getting help.” You try to pull away but Bucky holds on to you. “Please let go, Bucky.” Reluctantly, Bucky lets go of you and you walk around the bed. You pick up the small bag you had packed for yourself. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky says in a panic.

“Dr. Miles set me up to get the help I need.” You walk to him and set down the bag. Raising your hands to his face, you say, “I love you. I love you more than anything.” You kiss him. “I’ll be back in a few days, okay?” You have tears in your eyes as you look at him. 

“I love you, too.” He’s breathing hard as if to stop himself from sobbing. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“You can’t forgo every mission, Bucky.” you smile sadly at him. “But try to get some rest while I’m gone. I’ve exhausted you, too.”

“At least tell me where you are going.” Bucky says quietly. 

“A SHIELD facility where I can get the therapy I need. I’ve been there before after a mission went bad. It will help and I’ll be back in a few days. I have to know when to ask for help, Bucky.” 

“I understand. Do you know how brave you are? How strong? How amazing?” The tenderness in his voice caresses you. 

“I thought the same thing about you the day you asked for help with your nightmares.”

You share a passionate, loving kiss. As you slowly pull away, you look into his eyes. “I love you more than anything.” 

Before you can change your mind, you pick up your bag and walk out the door. 

His voice follows you from behind, “I love you more than anything, too, Doll.”

Day 112

“Hey Doc. “ You say as you enter the office for therapy. 

“Hello, Santi. How are you feeling?” Dr. Raines asks. She was here the last time you had been in the facility and you felt comfortable with her. 

“I’m doing okay.” 

“How did you sleep?”

“Better.” You smile. 

“Did you have the nightmare again?” 

“Yeah. But I was able to rein everything in. It didn’t get out of control this time. No panic attack.”

“That’s good. That’s huge.”

You nod. “I feel like being Eve did even more damage this time and I was only her for a week. Last time was 19 months.”

“Well, this time you lost control of the situation. You were assaulted, tortured, and nearly killed.”

“And the man I love watched me take a bullet to the head.” 

“That is the part that bothers you the most. You mention it everyday.”

“He’s been through so much and I put him through more.” You say. Dr. Raines just looks at you with her level gaze until you break the silence, “I know. Part of the job. Being an Avenger.” You pause for a second deep in thought. “Which we both chose.” Your eyes flicker up to Dr. Raines and a small smirk forms on your face. She never gives the answer but always seems to lead you there. “Which we both chose.” You repeat. 

“Why did you become an Avenger?” Dr. Raines leads you on and you feel the pieces coming together. The peace that had shattered at your loss of control was coming back together.You had lost a battle and won a war. 

Day 115

As soon as you stepped in the elevator at the tower you asked, “FRIDAY, where’s Bucky?”

“Sergeant Barnes is in the training room.” FRIDAY responds. 

“Take me there.” You say. 

As soon as you walk in you see Steve and Bucky sparring in the ring. You watch for a few seconds. God, you had missed him. Neither had paid any mind to your entrance. Bucky’s back was to you so you called out, “On your six!” You are grinning ear to ear.

Within seconds, Bucky had turned and vaulted over the ropes. You were hauled into his arms and nearly crushed by his hug. He pulled back to look at your face, putting his hand to your cheek. “You’re back.”

“Told ya I would be. Still love me?” You smile coyly at him. 

“More than anything.” His lips crash into yours. 

After a moment he pulls back when Steve clears his throat. “Welcome back, Santi.”

“Thanks, Steve. Woah!” You screech as Bucky picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. “Uh, see ya later, Steve.” You laugh as the caveman that has apparently replaced your boyfriend takes quick strides to the doors. 

“Bucky, training isn’t over.” Steve says with a smirk. 

“Yes, it is!” Bucky replies. He kicks the doors open and heads straight to the elevator. 

“Okay, Bucky, put me down.” You laugh. 

“Nope.” He slaps your rear as the elevator gets to your bedroom floor. Kicking his door closed behind him, he doesn’t release you until he throws you on his bed. 

You are giggling uncontrollably at this antic. “You turned into a caveman while I was gone?” 

He settles on top of you gently. “An absolute madman. Ask anyone.” He whispers. Gooseflesh raises on your skin at his words and intense gaze. “I missed you so much.” He presses his forehead to yours. “How are you?”

“Better. Much better. Except for how much I missed you.”

“How much did you miss me?”

“So very much. Enough that I don’t mind that you are covered in sweat.” You laugh but it’s cut short by his lips claiming yours. Your tongues dance. Hands explore, reacquainting themselves with familiar territory. When your hands find the waistband of his sweatpants, all reserve disintegrates. You ruck his sweatpants down as he pulls your skirt up and rips your panties open. The moment he enters, the moment you feel the stretch of him within, its home. You take no preamble. Bucky sets a fast pace and you wrap your legs around him welcoming each thrust. He melds his mouth to yours and his cool metal hand swirls around your clit as he pumps into you. In minutes you both moan your release. 

Once your breathing has slowed, Bucky stands you up, strips both of you of your clothes, and pulls you into the shower with him. You wash each other's hair, explore each other's bodies slowly, and make love against the shower wall as the hot water streams over you. 

After a third round, you lay wrapped in Bucky’s arms. Home again and feeling whole. 

“Thank you.” you say looking at Bucky. 

“You’re welcome but I can do better.” Bucky says bobbing his eyebrows up and down. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You giggle. “Thank you for understanding. It took me a few days to piece myself back together. To remember why I chose to be an Avenger. To remember we both chose this. Because we can do it. That’s why we have each other. That’s why we have the team. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Doll. Whatever you need.”

“And, yeah, I guess thank you for giving me such a warm welcome upon my return.” You snicker bobbing your eyebrows up and down. 

“Oh that’s it!” Bucky pulls your backside flush against him and enters you from behind. He doesn’t give you all of him, just a little. His hand dances around your clit, skims over it so lightly, but never gives the direct stimulation your crave. His cool metal hand plays over your breasts,  pinching your nipples. 

“Ohhhh, you fucking tease.” You groan.

“The mouth on you.” Bucky says as he turns your face to him for a blistering kiss. “Do you want more?”

“I want all of you, always.”

“I love you.” He groans as he fully seats himself in you. 

“More than anything.” You finish for him as you both chase oblivion. 

Eight months later. 

“Doc, what took so long? What the hell is going on?” You say to Dr. Miles when she finally makes it back to you. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Well… Remember how we talked about your inability to get pregnant?” Dr. Miles questions. 

“Right, my body pushes out any foreign bodies. So?” You look at her and then realization dawns, “Am I pregnant?”

“I ran the test three times.” Dr. Miles says. “You’re still seeing Sergeant Barnes, correct?”

“Yeah. Bucky and I are together.” You say. 

“And you’re sexually active?” 

“Very.” You say with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, either your body built up a tolerance or you and Bucky’s uhhhh… systems have been battling and his apparently won.” Dr. Miles chuckles. 

“I’m pregnant?”

“About 6 weeks.”

“Do you think it’ll… stick?” You put your hands over your belly. The thought of your body turning against your baby… Bucky’s baby, making you nearly panic. 

Dr. Miles smiles, “I don’t know why it wouldn’t if your body hasn’t eradicated it by now. But most pregnancies are lost in the first trimester, so you still have about 6 weeks.”

You are barely able to contain yourself. You have a huge smile and at the same time are apprehensive to know how Bucky will feel. You hadn’t really discussed kids. 

“Thanks, Doc.” You smile and listen to her instructions before heading to Bucky’s room. Your nerves are becoming worse the closer you get, but you couldn’t deter yourself for anything. You knock on his door and hear him say “Come in.”

“Hey, Love.”

“Hey, Doll. Where you been?” He looks up at you from the bed. He’s sitting up against the headboard working on his tablet. 

“I went to the medbay to see Dr. Miles.” You gauge his reaction. 

He looks up confused and puts the tablet on his nightstand. “Are you okay?” He reaches out for you and pulls you to sit on his lap. You loop your arms around his neck. 

“I felt strange lately and so I went in and... “ Your nerves are getting the better of you. 

“And?” Bucky is staring into you. 

“I’m pregnant. I didn’t think I could and Doc even said it was improbable. I felt strange for a few days and I… I, I’m pregnant.”

Bucky stares at you in utter shock. 

“I’m sorry. Please say something.” Your panic must be showing on your face. 

Bucky looks down at your stomach and slowly brings his hand up to cover it. “A baby?”

“Our baby.” You say putting your hands over his.

Bucky’s eyes snap to yours, “Our baby. How?”

“I don’t know. My body usually gets rid of anything it doesn’t think should be there. Either I built up a tolerance to you or your little soldiers waged a war to stay and won. Probably a combination of both.” 

Bucky chuckles and makes small circles with his hand over your belly. 

“I’m six weeks, so we’ve got a while to figure everything out. Are you… How do you feel about this? I know we never really talked about it.”

Bucky pulls you in for a kiss, “The love of my life is having my baby. I couldn’t be happier.”

“Really?” You look at him with tears in your eyes. 

“Actually, I could be.” He gently helps you stand before going to his desk and pulling something from the drawer. He walks back to you and pulls you in for a heated kiss. “I love you. More than anything”

“I love you, too. More than anything, Bucky.” 

Bucky looks into your eyes and then slides one knee to the floor. He holds up a ring box and slowly opens it. “Marry me?” 

A rush of lightheadedness assails you, but you  say the only answer you could ever give him to such a question, “Yes!”

Masterlist

[that-sw-writer]

Longing

Summary: Kylo being off base on a long mission has Y/N in a constantly foul mood, and when he finally returns she’s the only person he’s interested in seeing.

Word count: 714

Note: This is just a short drabble I wrote today in between working on the final part of Empress and the next chapter of HoD

Warnings: brief mentions of sex and some good ol’ fluff

“You’ve been awfully agitated these past few weeks Y/L/N.”  Hux came to stand beside you, of course he had to sneak up on you like this, but the chances were he had just witnessed you lash out at an unfortunate Stormtrooper who had gotten in your way.

“Your point, General?”  You responded, quirking a brow at the man with your expression still blank.

Of course he was right, you had been extremely quick to lash out and constantly on edge.  But there was no way of explaining that to anyone, you were having to suffer in silence.

Nobody knew about your relationship with Kylo, you both decided it would complicate your day to day lives within the First Order, and now with him having been gone for weeks you were suffering from the separation with no telling when he would be back.  You tried not to think about what may happen if he didn’t come back.

“My point, Captain, is that people are starting to wonder if there is something bothering you.”  Hux looked out at the vast mass of space from the viewpoint you both stood in front of.

Clearly word had been spreading about your attitude through High Command and they had nominated Hux to come and have words about it.  Little did they know that there was only one thing that could cheer you up - or one person.

“That would be none of your business, this is High Command not therapy.”  You sighed, dismissing the question.

“Very well, but perhaps consider not taking a leaf out of Ren’s book and assaulting Stormtroopers when you’re angry.”

Little did he know how that simple comment tugged at your heartstrings.

A further week went by, and you had now been without Kylo for a month.  You missed the late nights where you would sneak to his quarters.  You missed the feeling of his lips exploring every crevice of your body, teasing you until you begged him to fuck you.  You missed the way he would pull you close to his chest as you both fell asleep, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, words that nobody else would ever be allowed to hear.

You stood on the Bridge, your mood fowler than ever - nobody dared even speak to you at this point.  You were processing that Kylo may not be coming back, and if he was out there somewhere was he feeling the same sense of longing for you that you were for him?

Your thoughts were interrupted by an alert ringing through the High Command comms system from the Hanger - Ren’s Silencer was back...

Don’t move.  You told yourself, inhaling a deep breath - now was the most difficult part.  You had to spend a painstaking amount of time in mission debrief with Kylo, and you had to remain professional.  It was seeming impossible at that moment.

With news of his return other Captains, Lieutenants and Admirals filtered onto the Bridge to await the debrief, and within moments General Hux marched in with a mask-less Kylo in tow.

Maker he looked a mess... dirty, bloodied and exhausted - but to you he was still perfection.

His brown eyes were searching the room, and when they landed on you your gaze instantly met his.  This debrief was going to be impossible.

“I suggest we begin, Ren.”  Hux gestured the group of them to sit down at the long tables they used for meetings, but Kylo’s eyes were still fixated on you, and your heart was racing uncontrollably.

When Kylo refused to move or focus on his words, Hux exhaled a frustrated sigh, “Ren will you-”  But Hux cut himself off before he could finish.

Kylo desperately shoved his way through the crowd of First Order officials to get to you, pulling you towards him by your waist and crashing his lips into yours in a passionate blaze.

Gasps and mutters rose up around the room, everyone was stunned by what they were seeing but you had tuned them out entirely - your world only consisted of Kylo in that moment.

After a few moments of your passionate embrace you separated, suddenly becoming aware of your audience.

“I missed you.”  He mumbled, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before turning to address the rest of High Command, “Perhaps you’d like to begin your debrief now, General.”

So much for keeping your relationship a secret.

[novantinuum]

Intake (SUF one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (TW: brief discussion of mental illness related topics like suicide ideation and intrusive thoughts.)

Words: 2800

Summary: Steven fills out an important form.

This is set multiple months pre The Future, and is a small glimpse into Steven’s journey to find a therapist.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

His leg bounces with a restless fervor as he slumps in the waiting room chair, clutching the clipboard and pencil the receptionist gave him with a white knuckled grip. Gaze hardened, he takes a good long look at the other patients spread across the room, a few of them appearing equally as spent and fidgety as him, and hunches over the intake form so his answers will be conclusively obscured from their view.

He grimaces. Ugh. Why would a place like this lay out their chairs so close, anyways? Why even give people the option of being nosey? He may be stuck seeing this therapist Connie’s mom recommended because he’s all messed up in the head, but it’s not like he wants the whole planet to know about it. Goodness knows all of Beach City and Little Homeworld already does thanks to his little ‘incident’ a month back. That’s bad enough.

His chest almost feeling hollow as he sighs, he scrawls in his name, his birthday, his cell number, address, and an emergency contact (Dad, who left for the car to give him privacy after signing a few forms he can’t fill out as a minor) on the lines indicated. He leaves out his many middle names for once, all of them leaving a bitter taste in his mouth at this present moment. Briefly, he wonders if this will be a problem, as these past few weeks Dr. Maheswaran assisted his dad in finally acquiring legal documentation and health insurance for him, and per those records he’s officially ‘Steven Quartz Universe’ in the eyes of the law.

Eventually he shrugs, figuring the likelihood of there being another sixteen-year-old ‘Steven Universe’ here today to confuse him with is nearing zero.

Okay, what’s next?

He briefly skims over the next few passages— a bunch of legalese about the terms of counselor-patient confidentiality and when they might have to breach that for safety reasons— and signs where indicated so they know he looked over it.

Someone sitting two chairs away coughs. He can’t help but flinch at the sudden noise, and folds himself tighter in his own seat as he flips over the first page of the form and continues to read.

In a few words, explain why you’ve chosen to reach out to us today. How can we help you?

Steven frowns, fingers twitching around the shaft of the pencil as he contemplates how to respond. For whatever reason, the question “explain why you’re here” feels very blunt and antagonistic to him in a way he can’t quite ascertain. Like... in a “give the wrong answer, get booted right out the door” sorta way. He lifts his head, peering at all the humans spread across the room, each and every one with their own story, the central character of their own worlds. Some are texting on their phones as they wait for the receptionist to call their names, others are filling out forms as well. What brought these people here, he wonders? Surely there’s plenty of people having a worse time than him right now. Surely there’s people with real problems, people who are literally struggling just to stay alive from day-to-day. He’s not like that, right? Besides that one little wobble a month back, he’s been handling his problems on his own fairly okay. Hasn’t he? So what makes him selfish enough to think that he’s worth anyone’s time?

In his pocket his phone vibrates, knocking him back into reality. He yanks it out and switches it on to look at the new text splashed across the lock screen:

Dad: Hey Schtu-ball, just wanna let you know that I’m proud of you and love you very much. You’ve got this!

He stares at these words for a good minute, the kind sentiment— despite reading as a little hopelessly over-encouraging— filling the hollow space in his chest partway. Even if his dad’s been a bit overbearing in his affections this past month, it’s clear he means well.

So. Why am I here today, he thinks, reading the question over again. He folds his fingers up into a stiff fist, pulling his thumb across his knuckles. After licking his chapped lips and shoving his phone back in his pocket, he scribbles a hasty reply.

I feel really angry and empty and tense and just want to be better.

The teen pauses, allowing those words to echo over and over in his mind, to truly sink in. It’s such a succinct and to-the-point admission that he suddenly wonders why he ever doubted he was less deserving of aid than anyone else in this waiting room.

His countenance a little lighter now and his shoulders growing less stiff, he moves on to the next section.

To aid our counselors in providing you the best possible care, please rate the following statements on a scale from zero to four, zero meaning “not at all like me,” and four meaning “extremely like me.”

Steven’s eyes dart across the length of the massive table below these instructions, his previous anxiety rushing back into his brittle bones as if it’d never left. Each row is host to a short sentence and five blank boxes, numbered zero to four. Read it and rate yourself, right? Should be simple enough. But as his glance flits over these statements and he understands the sort of personal, probing questions they’re asking through them, he begins to mistrust his previous burst of optimism. Dread floods his system, making his cheeks flush bright pink. Heart pounding at the mere thought of people staring, he drops his head lower, successfully hiding most of his face behind the clipboard until he can coax that betraying glow into fading away.

In the end, this goes to prove that it doesn’t matter if everyone says therapy will be ‘helpful’ for him; reflecting on all this junk is still gonna suck.

Quietly, he takes a steadying breath and forces himself to read on, to crack open the hornet’s nest that is the depths of his crap brain.

1. I am shy around others.

He considers this for a moment. Shy. Historically, this has never been a word people would use to describe him. For years he reveled in the thrill of meeting new people, new Gems. His childhood eagerness to engage in fellowship with those around is half the reason Era 3 even exists. And he’s fine around people he knows. Like, on a rare good day he has no problem playing board games or watching cheesy soap operas with his friends. But to be fair... as of late, his eagerness to meet anyone new feels like it’s all but vanished. Is that being shy? Or is that just him failing to care for anyone beyond his inner circle?

With a small shrug he checks the box for one, and moves on.

2. I don’t enjoy being around people as much as I used to.

Hmm. Probably a three. People are unintentionally exhausting these days. He used to be energized by social interaction, and now it just leaves him sucked dry. Most days he’d rather stick to his room.

3. I feel isolated and alone.

The weight of the diamond embedded in his belly— something he normally barely notices— grows ever more apparent as he marks off a four.

4. My heart often races for no good reason.

Uh, yeah. What happened just a minute ago is a pretty good tell. Four.

5. I have spells of terror or panic.

Another four.

6. I am anxious that I might have a panic attack while in public.

Four once more. He holds his pencil tighter, squirming in his seat as he tries (and fails) not to think about the pale scars spread across his back, hidden in his hairline, and on the underside of his arms, indentations that once marked the base of the crystalline spines that jut out from between his scales.

7. I think about food more than I’d like to.

Steven pauses at this one. For once, he’s not sure he can say this statement applies to him. Truth be told, he only started caring about what he put in his mouth earlier this year, when he cut meat and fish out of his diet. And that’s not... a bad thing? It’s not bad to want to consider the impact your food choices have on the environment? He definitely didn’t choose to do so for self-denying reasons, and that’s probably what they’re asking about. He checks zero, and moves on.

8. I feel out of control when I eat.

He almost checks another zero, but then he remembers that day after the proposal... and the week after his incident. And he decides that even if he doesn’t consciously obsess over the food he eats, there’s still a few occasions where once he starts snacking he finds it difficult to stop. A one it is, then.

9. I have sleep difficulties.

This statement nearly makes him laugh. Does he have sleep difficulties. Hah. He doesn’t think he’s gotten a truly restful night of sleep since he sacrificed himself to Homeworld at fourteen.

A solid four. No question.

10. My thoughts are racing.

Four.

11. I feel uncomfortable around people I don’t know.

Hmm. Two.

12. I drink alcohol frequently.

The only alcohol he’s ever had is a tiny sip of his dad’s with permission at Garnet’s wedding reception, and it tasted terrible. He has no interest in drinking again. Zero.

13. When I drink alcohol I can’t remember what happened.

Zero.

14. I drink more than I should.

Zero again.

15. I have done something I have regretted because of drinking.

Another zero. It almost makes him feel better, just knowing there’s a decent number of lines on this paper that aren’t a carbon copy of his lived experience.

16. I feel sad all the time.

Aaaand back to “the story of his life.” Briefly, he wonders if ‘feeling sad’ is the same thing as feeling nothing at all. But then again, does the difference really matter? He checks the box for three.

17. I am concerned that other people don’t like me.

Three. Although honestly, he’s even more concerned that people continue to like him after everything he’s done.

18. I feel worthless.

Steven nibbles at the inside of his cheek as he reads this statement, memories automatically flashing through the pathetic events of the last few weeks, through all the days he barely crawled out from under his covers, all the days he didn’t even manage to brush his teeth or run his fingers through his greasy, knotted hair, all those awful days he couldn’t so much as play one of his video games without growing tired of it in minutes and taking a restless nap for the rest of the afternoon instead.

Four.

19. I feel helpless.

Two. Everyday affairs are a drag, but at the very least he knows he can fight his way out of danger in a pinch. He wouldn’t call that helpless.

20. I have thoughts of ending my life.

He freezes. Goes back, reads this line again. Reads it a third time to make sure he’s not horrendously misconstruing the prompt he’s been given.

(Tries not to think too deeply about the graphic images that flood his imagination some nights. It’s just stray thoughts, though. He’s fine.)

One, he marks, although his muscles can’t help but twitch as he shifts his wrist, as if deep down he knows he’s underplaying his answer.

21. I feel tense.

Steven gives a small snort under his breath. Yeah, he outright admitted as much earlier in this form. Four.

22. I get angry easily.

His grip tightens.

Four.

23. I have difficulty controlling my temper.

He swallows hard, his mouth feeling abnormally dry. He’s not sure he likes how blunt and probing this questionnaire is becoming.

Four...

24. I sometimes feel like breaking or smashing things.

His knuckles go white around his pencil, and he only barely resists the temptation to snap it in half as he feels a rush of hard light flow the distance from his gem through the veins of his arm. Geeze, it’s not like he means to break things! It’s just that all of his stupid powers are linked with his emotions, and whenever he gets even marginally upset now things start to splinter, crack in half, and inevitably end up broken. Just another sign he’s fated to ruin everything around him forever, and that his intent doesn’t matter. Why do they have to pry into this? He already feels terrible enough for thinking these things.

Three, he checks, his eyes damp, but mostly because he’s too scared what their response will be otherwise.

25. I am not able to concentrate as well as usual.

He takes a deep breath, coaxing his body to return to a baseline state. Eh. He’ll give this a two.

26. I feel self-conscious around others.

His glance skirts over the edge of the clipboard to monitor the four others currently spread out across the room. One’s rhythmically swinging their legs, another is still filling out a form like him, but sitting criss-cross on the chair, and the other two are quietly typing on their phones. Thankfully none of them are pressing an ounce of attention his way, (at least, not right now), but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like an exposed nerve. Three.

27. I am afraid I may lose control and act violently.

The raw memories hit like lightning before he can even think to prepare.

Flashes of Pink. Orange fragments, cold and slick in his palms. Thunder splits the skies overhead, each cacophonous sound manifesting in perfect synchronicity with his erratic heartbeat, with each tidal wave of thoughts gushing like a maelstrom through his head: SHATTERER, I’m a shatterer, I’m—

Feeling almost dizzy from the intensity of his heart’s pulse, he knows with full certainty that his cheeks are glowing bright pink again. All he can do is clench his fists, suck down whatever amount of fresh air his lungs will allow, and pray to the very stars themselves that it’ll fade away before it garners the attention of every last human in this place.

He checks the box for four, pencil marking so hard that slivers of graphite splinter off onto the page, and moves on before he can be cowardly enough to change his answer.

28. I have thoughts of hurting others.

His fingernails claw into the thin denim at his knee, limbs outright quivering as he stews in his seat, as he’s forced to reflect upon all the ugly, ugly thoughts that have flit across his awareness over the past weeks. Thoughts about one Gem specifically. He’s... always been angry, always harbored deep resentment... but ever since his most recent trip to visit Her, he hasn’t been able to shake this awful idea: a vision of him standing over the remnants of her gemstone, shattered, fragments spilled across the otherwise pristine floors of Homeworld. He... he didn’t do it when he had the chance. He wouldn’t do it, would he?

(Orange fragments, cold and slick...)

Would he??

And yet nevertheless, the thought tortures him with its frequency, makes him feel downright nauseous at every turn. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to feel this way at all.

Four.

29. I am unable to keep up with my schoolwork.

Stop. Sharp inhale. Staccato, shaky exhale. Repeat, deeper this time. Repeat.

(He can no longer see neon pink reflecting in the smooth metal clasp at the top of his clipboard.)

Okay. Schoolwork.

N/A, he writes in one of the boxes, arm still trembling from the last two questions despite his attempt at cool-down exercises. Not applicable. He hasn’t even been to school, and dreads the inevitability of this therapist asking about that mess.

30. It’s hard to stay motivated for my classes.

N/A.

31. I feel confident that I can succeed academically.

N/A, once more.

And like that, the questionnaire is over. Steven is quick to hide his answers behind the front page, and slides the pencil through the length of the metal clip. He glances around him, drinking in his surroundings with pinpoint precision. Despite his earlier concerns, no one is maliciously staring. No one’s whispering. He internally wrestled with a few challenging subjects and what do you know, it didn’t end in an embarrassingly public meltdown. He— he wipes a stray tear from his eye with the butt of his palm— he took a solid step forward today.

Coercing his body to move, he pulls himself out of the cushioned chair and crosses the room.

“I finished,” he says softly, proudly, as he hands the clipboard and pencil to the receptionist. She smiles and accepts his hard-fought offering.

For the first time in a while, the smile he instinctively flashes back almost feels genuine.

I want to be better, he thinks. I will be better.

____

Notes:

This fic is loosely based on my own experience of the intake process, and the questionnaire I had to fill out. No two intake experiences are the same though, of course. This is merely one possibility. I also take personal liberties on the way I depict Steven’s struggle with mental health, and acknowledge and respect that no two fans’ interpretation will be the same.

Additional notes: -Steven’s still a minor, so he can’t actually sign contracts. I figure Greg signed a handful of forms beforehand as his guardian, and then left to allow his son a bit of privacy with filling out the questionnaire stuff. Since he's a teen, they're still giving him the full confidentiality clauses to look over so he's wholly aware how that works, though.

-To expand on a brief comment made in the midst of this, I headcanon that Steven cut both meat and fish out of his diet, and thus actually slipped up on his vegetarian diet when he was training with Jasper. I interpret this as further showcasing how the poor kid— due to being mentally vulnerable at the time and thus liable to coercion/unwise decisions— began to take actions that went against much of his established morality. He ended up sacrificing his dietary choices during those days, just like he briefly sacrificed his pacifistic views to fight Jasper.

-I also headcanon that the therapist Steven is going in to see after this isn’t the one he eventually sticks with and mentions as “my new therapist” in The Future. It’s totally normal and okay to try a few different people to find someone who you click with, after all.

Thank you for reading!

[tommyhollandaisesauce]

Let Me Do The Work TEASER [t.h.]

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ?k

Posted: 11/16/2020

Warning(s): Fluff, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral sex (f receiving), maybe too much plot? and definitely a whole lotta lazy sex sue me.

Summary: Tom thinks you deserve a reward after a hard few days at work.

A/N: First smut in the bag lets go. Also, the point of view makes no sense but continuity is not in my vocabulary so. Anyway, the full part is almost finished so lmk how you guys like this!

When Tom got home on Wednesday night the last thing he expected his girlfriend to say was “Wanna have sex?” He had asked a few times before if you could and your response was usually something to the effect of “Sorry babe, another time, I’m just exhausted.” He knew your job was taxing and took a lot out of you and, frankly, Tom could survive the work week without getting any. He also knew that once Friday night rolled around it was all systems go; the weekend was yours to fool around as much as you wanted. And he was willing to wait.

Asking never hurt, though. Tom wasn’t annoying about it, at least he hoped he wasn’t. And for all the times you’d asked to have sex after he had a particularly exhausting day on set and he agreed, he didn’t feel super guilty about asking now and then.

It was unusual that Tom would be so exhausted from working that he didn't have any energy left to have sex. There had been some rare days when Tom could barely keep his eyes open even though you were right there, naked and sweaty, and riding his cock right on the living room couch. Your hands would be resting on his broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscles beneath his freckled skin as you bounced on his cock and his hands could barely stay put on your waist or hips to help you move. Sure, he liked watching you rise and fall on his lap and he liked seeing himself disappear inside of you and he liked the way your tits bounced with every movement and he liked watching your face. God, he loved your gorgeous face.

Your eyes would flutter open and closed the closer you got and you’d look at him with your big, beautiful eyes that were dark and lust blown and your jaw would go slack and you’d throw your head back in pleasure. Your movements would get sloppier as you’d start shaking and convulsing while you came. His arms would lazily wrap around your waist to pull you closer and you’d nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing hard against his skin as you came down from your high. But Tom couldn’t find it in himself to even worry about his own orgasm, he just wanted to sleep.

So when he came home to your shared flat around 7 pm from walking Tessa on a particularly boring Wednesday, now that he had a break, and saw you lying on the couch with a glass of red wine in one hand and your other arm thrown over your eyes, he figured it was pointless to ask. You had gotten home sometime while he was out, didn’t bother changing out of your blouse and jeans just yet, popped a bottle open, and poured yourself a glass.

Tom unclipped the leash from Tessa’s collar, allowing her to run free around the flat. Immediately, she trotted over to you, nuzzling your legs with her nose until you caved and gave her a few scratches behind her ears. Tom slipped off his sneakers, padding over to you, causing Tessa to run off in search of her favorite toy. The couch sank under his weight as he sat down next to your head, your eyebrows raised at the shift.

“Hey, stranger,” you muttered, removing your arm from covering your half-lidded eyes. Your eyes sparkled in the dim living room lighting as you looked up at Tom. He couldn’t remember a single time they looked dull. Not during a fight, or when you were sad or tired or sick, never. They reminded him of stars. No matter what, they kept shining.

“Hi love,” Tom leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your wine-stained lips. The upside-down angle was slightly awkward, but you’d be lying if you said you two hadn’t done the Spider-Man Kiss before, per his request.

You smiled up at him as he pulled away and closed your eyes. Tom threaded his fingers through your messy locks and you relaxed, even more, leaning your head into his hand.

“Long day?” He asked, continuing to run his fingers through your hair.

“Don’t even get me started,” you huffed out, dramatically throwing your arm back over your eyes, which made Tom chuckle at your antics.

“Tell me what happened?” He asked, and as you lowered your arm, you raised a single eyebrow at him.

“You sure?” You asked cautiously, “Because I wouldn’t wish the shit I dealt with today on my worst enemy.”

Tom scoffed, shrugging his shoulders, “Try me.”

You sighed before beginning your story. Today had been insufferable. From the minute you clocked in, to the minute you clocked out, it had been hell. One coworker in particular, with whom you were not super close or friends with in any way, kept nagging you about your relationship like she did every single day.

The incessant questioning and probing was getting old and, quite frankly, rude. The questions started out harmless, like everyone else’s when they found out the Tom Holland was your boyfriend. Some asked for autographs or pictures and you declined, saying that if he ever came in Tom would be more than happy to do that. And Tom agreed; you playing messenger was weird and not the type of thing either of you wanted people to get accustomed to. And most people understood; except for one.

The more she asked the worse they got. Personal questions were the norm now. Questions about family members and life together and sex. God, the sex questions never ended. ‘Is it good?’ and ‘What are you guys into?’ were some of her favorites. Sometimes she’d get creative with them and switch them up. And every time, you refused to answer. And you relayed this information to Tom like you did most days, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance at her ignorance before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead when he saw you were getting riled up.

You softened immediately and sighed. Tom had a calming effect on you. Just being around him was relaxing. After so long together he still could calm you down. And he was cheaper than your copay for therapy, so hey why not vent to him?

“Just forget about her for now, babe,” Tom sighed out, continuing to stroke your hair, “she’s not worth your energy.”

“You're right,” you said quietly, “I’m home, I got my wine, I got my boy, I can relax.”

“Exactly,” Tom said, laughing at your words. He didn’t feel the need to say anything else as you both relaxed, his fingers still threaded in your hair, until a few more minutes went by, your eyes opened, and you turned your head to make sure you were setting down your not yet empty glass on the coffee table.

A soft “hey” escaped Tom’s lips as he watched you use your arms to lean up and turn to face him. He would’ve spoken more but was cut off as your lips pressed to his, the kiss awkward since you had caught him as he was speaking. His lips were slightly chapped and he tasted like spearmint gum as you hovered over him and moved your lips against his.

Tom sighed into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. You clumsily clambered into Tom’s sweatpants clad lap to straddle him and his other hand sat high on your thigh. The kiss was slow and passionate, neither of you in a rush to go further just yet. You melted into the kiss as his tongue slid along your lower lip to ask for permission to enter. You parted your lips immediately, allowing Tom access. After a few moments of lazily making out like teenagers, you pulled away to catch your breath. You closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against Tom’s as you both panted, trying to catch your breath.

“Can we go to our room?” You mumbled, just loud enough for Tom to hear. Your voice was low, soft, and a little shaky from being so tired. His eyes opened at your words and his ears perked up. Tom pulled his head away from yours and your eyes returned to their half-open state.

“I thought you were tired?” He questioned teasingly, tucking some strands of hair behind both your ears and resting his hands on your cheeks. You reached up and wrapped your fingers around Tom’s wrists, smiling sweetly at him. He was sure his heart damn near melted in his chest at the sight of his sleepy girlfriend asking to have sex with him.

“I am,” you said softly, smirking as Tom ran his hands down your sides and settled over your hips, “why do you think I wanna go to our room?” You joked, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and ducking your head down to place soft kisses along the side of it. He sighed, tilting his head in the opposite direction to give you more room as your fingers carded through the short, soft curls at the back of his head.

“You sure?” Tom asked breathily, as you continued laying kisses across his jaw and below his ear, “Because I don’t want you to do it just because I want to-”

“Tom,” you huffed, pulling away from his neck, your hands migrating to rest on his shoulders. He straightened up and opened his eyes as the feeling of your soft lips disappeared from his neck. “I’m sure. Now shut up and take me to the bedroom.”

-

FULL PART

A/N: AAAHHHH ok I mean I definitely put words on the page lol. Fr tho this is the first time I’ve ever posted anything so lmk if y’all want the rest! Feedback is always appreciated! <3