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cocklessboy · 1 year ago

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The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

#transgender #queer #transmasc #lgbtqia+#trans man #sexism #medical sexism #feminism #male privilege

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bisexual-berry · 2 years ago

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my doctor's got me on beta blockers for anxiety and they always make me a little weird but I always chalk it up to my hypochondria like it's 'light meds' it's whatever but today I look at the side effects and sure enough the serious ones are trouble breathing and pain in the chest and irregular heartbeat but like i also have that all the time cause I have anxiety that's what the pills are for in the first place 😭😭😭 istg being a hypochondriac is like playing 3d chess with your own brain

#kerol talks #ask to tag #pills mention #medicine mention #hypochondria #???

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lostbo0 · 5 months ago

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Nothing I Had Planned… (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: After four months of blissful marriage, you fear that new realities may introduce challenges you had not anticipated or prepared for.

Genre: Spencer x Fem!Reader, Angst with comfort, happy ending

Content: Mentions of pregnancy, periods, relationship doubt, nerds in love.

Word Count: 1.8k

~~~

The confession you had made that evening was not one marked of a particular grandiosity, and yet it grew a welling in your heart so strong, you felt as though you could fall in love a thousand times over.

your afternoon seemed to slip from your fingers, watching time crawl between the cracks of the blinds, sunlight dragging across the wall of your freshly inhabited living room. Spencer had not long departed to pick up forgotten work materials, insisting on your relaxation for the evening. You mindlessly clicked the remote button, eyes glossed over the tv you had no idea what to do with. Admittedly, you had hopes to escape the confines of your empty home for a small while, yet when you saw the sparkling glow of matrimonial duty glinting in Spencer’s eyes, you rescinded your desire at once.

The TV screen flashed with cop and forensic shows, too familiar to enjoy as you lazed about your unworn couch. You abandoned the idea of TV all together, instead walking to the bathroom, deciding that a warm shower might occupy your time. You shuffled through cabinets, hunting for a spare bottle of shampoo, when, behind nicknacks and more often used supplies, a small case of period products flashed across your vision.

When was the last time you had used one of these?

Your period had never been regular. In fact, it had been far from the word, but you had never missed one completely. At first, you thought that you had simply been “glowing with marriage” as Penelope suggested, your body not finding the time to worry about menstruation. In hindsight, the notion seemed silly to you, but at the time, all you could think about was the fact that you had married the love of your life.

Maybe a change in environment, you had foolishly told yourself a month ago. It just now struck you how long it had been.

Your mind did not immediately resort to conception. In fact, your hypochondria suggested more inevitable death than anything else. Yet, as you sat in the bathroom, shower long discarded, you began to wonder. A baby? It didn’t even feel possible. Of course it had been possible, but you had not even considered it to be a likely reality.

The idea of children had danced upon your tongue, slipping in to conversations laced with playful sincerity, but you never thought it to be a near future. Nothing in the past 4 months had even felt real. You just loved and danced and laughed and sent sparks flying, no consideration of permanent consequence. You found yourself dragged by a ghost of yourself towards the door, simply sliding on shoes and going.

~~~

You jammed the keys into the ignition, stalling for just a moment, hoping for a sign — for your period to magically start “haha you weren’t pregnant, really got you there!” Or perhaps waiting for an angel to descend, delivering the message that you were in fact not with child. But the angel never came. Not yet.

Street lines blurred across the windshield, reminding you to slow. All you could hear was your breath. No radio, no revving, no sirens, not even the rain on your window, just the inhale exhale of your lungs, breathing a silent plea. You weren’t prepared for this, and it scared you. All your life you had spent preparing: seven, the talent show. Twelve, state testing. Sixteen, SATs. Twenty-two, FBI training. Never once did you sit down, read a book, talk to a friend, talk to your mom even! The sound of your breath was loud. Louder, you thought, until it became rhythmic. A rhythm of no count, no time, it was filled with gasps and choking cries that mixed with the patter of rain crawling down the windshield. The line between raindrops and tears began to blur as your own tears pooled in your eyes and ran down your cheeks in hot puddles. You felt foolish — an adult woman crying at the result of her own actions. Yet you didn’t feel like the adult woman that you were. All you could see was a scared teenage girl, faced with the fear of a lifetime in front of her. But you didn’t have a parents to disappoint, not a boyfriend or a teacher, just your poor loving husband that you were scared to death of hurting.

Spencer was the only person who made you believe that the world still had some good left in it. He was the most gentle and tender hearted human you had ever laid eyes upon, and the idea that you could even scare him in any way, sent your stomach twirling like a centrifuge. You knew he loved children, that was not a fact lost on you, but you were also aware of the horrors you both faced each and every day you stepped into the bullpen.

Your entire line of work was comprised of lunatics and monsters and horrors beyond normal comprehension, and you were also well aware of how much of a danger it posed. Spencer had been kidnapped, Penelope had been shot and stalked, and every day you were afraid that you could be next. It almost felt selfish and wrong to bring a poor sweet child into your tainted world. How could you do that to something so innocent?

~~~

You parked your car with recklessness reminiscent of chasing an unsub as you set your vehicle spanning multiple parking spots. You slammed the door shut harder than you had wished, catching a glimpse of your swollen, red, and sordid face. The tears felt sticky on your fingers as you quickly wiped them away.

The fluorescent lights dug into your skin as you walked to the back of the drug store. You knew in your heart that no one there had a care in the world about what you were doing, and yet you had never felt so exposed. Aisles blurred together as you dragged yourself to the shelf, hastily grabbing the most expensive test you could find, hoping the price would reflect upon its accuracy. You checked out and made your way to the car, rain still beating, pooling in the pavement. The car ride back felt just as long as the arrival, thoughts speeding across your vision as quick as the road signs. How would he react when he saw you? How would he react when he saw the results? Would he hug you? Would he cry? Would he slide a hand into yours only to pull the ring off with the words “I’m sorry, I’m not ready?” You felt guilty for even considering it. That was the man that loved you, and he made the promise to love you, no matter what, so faced with these facts, why were you so scared?

~~~

The bathroom tiles were soaked with tears and rain water as you waited tirelessly for the minutes to drag by. No matter how warm your thermostat was set that morning, you couldn’t help feeling cold. These next few moments would decide your future for the rest of your life. But it wasn’t the moments that decided your fate, but the two prominent lines that spoke millions of words all at once. After all the crying you had done, you found it shocking that no tears rolled down your cheeks. In fact, you didn’t make a single noise. You were certain that you hadn’t made a sound. You didn’t know how long you sat there on the bathroom floor staring into your hands. You didn’t know when Spencer would return, but you wanted terribly for it to be soon. No matter how afraid you were of telling him, you wanted nothing more than to feel the familiarity of his arms around your body, building the warmth in your soul that you so desperately desired.

~~~

You were on the couch when Spencer came home. Hearing the door open, you shot up from your seat and stood there in the middle of the room, waiting for him to walk inside.

“My love, I’m home!” He paused where he stood when he saw you, seeing easily through your tight-lipped smile. “are you ok?” He dropped his bags and rushed to you, large hands holding your shoulders with gentle firmness.

“Yeah…” Your voice was quiet, hoarse from crying.

“Baby,” he moved a hand up to your cheek, heart pounding in hopes that you were ok. “Your eyes are red and puffy…”

“I was crying.” You laughed softly at your admission.

“Why sweetheart,” he brushed a thumb across your cheek, feeling dried tears soaked into your reddening skin.

“Um, well…” you wiped your face with your hand. You could feel the tears building in the cracks of your eyes and the familiar clenching of your throat. Spencer peered down at you with those sickeningly brown eyes, prodding for an answer.

“I’m pregnant…” The words scratched out in a whisper, you could barely hear the words yourself, questioning if you even spoke them. He only looked at you, unease growing in your stomach as you fear the worst. “I took a test and I know that sometimes results can be inconclusive but, my period is weeks late and I just-“

“I love you so much-“ His warm arms pulled himself to you, breaths coming out in choked gasps, hot air on your neck as he grasped your body. For the first time all day, you felt safe. A sigh fell from your lips like a waterfall, the tension releasing from your body in one choked out breath. You could feel your arms crawling up his body like a magnet, against your own will and at the same time exactly what you wanted. Your fingers grabbed at his sweater, pulling at the fabric in earnest attempt to hold him forever.

“I was so scared-I, I love you-“

“I love you too. I love you so much.” Your tears came out in hot puddles, soaking the shoulder of Spencer’s shirt. It was silly to even think that it mattered. His body engulfed you, tearing at the seams that held your fear in place, ripping apart any hesitation.

“I’m-I’m sorry I didn’t plan anything special to tell you, I just, I didn’t want to wait…”

“No, Sweetheart, this is perfect.” He pulled away from you, holding your face in his large hands. “You’re perfect.”

You could have spent an eternity basking in the comfort of his arms. In fact, you weren’t sure if any more words were spoken.The truth was, you hadn’t prepared for this. At the time, you hadn’t even wished it. And yet, in that small, careful, tender moment, you realized that if everything you hadn’t planned for turned out just like this, you would throw caution to the wind, following the tides of your love instead.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Requests are open if you have any ideas!

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction

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blond3ang3l · 5 months ago

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🌷♡₊˚geek lover! eren🦢・₊✧

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This is a remake of the already geek lover eren, but specifically a sfw version but I actually really love this story

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Eren is a geek lover. He absolutely is enamored with you. Watching your lips with every word you spoke. The way you got excited telling him about every single new detail of the things you got interested in. Eren worked hard as a famous rnb singer, long days in the studio trying to perfect his songs. Then having to perform when he literally had the WORST anxiety known to man. It always felt like someone needed him and was on his ass about something.

But he did it all for you. So you can have everything your heart desired. He left nothing behind when it came to you. You wanted to see a new sci fi movie? He already bought out the theater. There’s a new podcast you like? He’s downloaded all the episodes for you on both yours and his phone. Don’t even get started on books. On your first date you mentioned you like to read and study psychology in your free time. Once you moved in he had your very own book room built for you. Carefully picking out each book for you on his own. Your own desk and room for you todo your writings in. He even surprised you with a laptop and camera so you can start your own podcast! He just wanted to show you how much he loved and supported you.

For moment like this were he could come home and listen to you tell him. About the things you've watched in your huge list of video essays that you had in a playlist on YouTube. How you lit up telling him different facts from how the dating game killer had a coworker that also happened to be a serial killer and he didn't know to the conspiracy theory of the 27 club, no matter what you said it always made you so happy and seeing you all giddy and stimming while you talked to him made him so content with his life.

"I know cotards syndrome, Koro, Diogenes, fregoli, hypochondria, pica, capgras, boanthropy, apotenmophilia, kulver bulcy, ekbom, erotomania, Stendhal. Pics is like one of the more well known. You know that show my strange addiction that we watch together? Yeah so like those people who eat the random shit like the lady who ate rocks- omg that reminds me!"

Erens ass was not listening one bit. He was watching you, watching your body. You guys had been apart for a little over a month so could do a very short tour in another country and he was sick as fuck that he couldn't bring you.

Everyone knew it too. His attitude fucking sucked that trip. He was antsy, his anxiety was through the roof, he snapped at everyone, overall he fucking hated it. But now, sitting here with you he finally felt at peace.

You were sitting on his lap, yapping his ear off.His eyes couldn't help but wander to your legs which lead him to notice you were wearing his boxers. Your hands thick thighs were filling them out so well. His hands moved to grip them as he watched you talk. You’d kill him later for not listening but he just felt so much dread when he was away from you that he couldn’t help but just stare at you forever.

“Rennie, papa are you okay? You’re getting all red. Are you feeling sick baby?”

You were worried, he had a bad history of getting sick easily. With him coming back from another country he could have likely caught something. It would hurt your heart to know he wasn’t feeling well.

“I’m fine baby. Keep going. I wanna hear you talk.”

“Are you sure baby? We can go lay down if you’d like.”

It warmed his heart how much you cared for him. You made him the man he was. He used to be so closed off to anyone that wasn’t your friends mikasa and armin. You taught him how to deal with the grief of life and got him therapy to get through the rough days of his depression. He just loved you so much and truly couldn’t imagine being anywhere without you.

“I’m fine baby, just missed you so much..”

For my girlie @merakidoll

#spotify #fanfic #x character #x reader #x black reader #x black plus size reader #x black male reader #x male reader #eren x male reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #aot eren #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black reader #aot imagines #aot au #aot x reader #aot x black reader

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artemis-pendragon · 1 year ago

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The gremlins now have me convinced that sucking on one (1) menthol cough drop is going to send me into anaphylaxis and ALSO give me serotonin syndrome. SIGH.

I have an owie sore throat and health anxiety which means I do think my throat is gonna close up and strangle me in my sleep

#bro every day i wake up and half the voices tell me to kms and the other half tell me im in mortal danger from the most mundane shit #me when the ocd hits #ocd #health anxiety #hypochondria #hypochondriac #anxiety #cw suicide mention in the tags

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loversj0y · 2 years ago

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5 times wilbur helped you + 1 time you helped him

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

TWs: hypochondria + drinking alcohol + sickenss + death mentioned

note: this was so cute to write ee i love a good 5 things + 1! this fic is very cutesy too, a good strangers to neighbors to friends to best friends to lovers moment!

taglist! @l0veb0mb1ng

word count: 6.2k

one

The record store managed to be both small and incredibly overwhelming. It was a cozy place, with gorgeous dark blue walls, soft lighting, and big windows. You’d decided to stop here on your way home from work given that you’d been living in Brighton for nearly four months now and have barely gone anywhere but work and your apartment. It was about time you’d looked at expanding your music taste, so a record store was the perfect place to try and find something new.

At least, you’d hoped it was. You’d been browsing the place for a good fifteen minutes, just completely mindless as you searched for anything that could pique your interest. A few customers had come and gone, and you could tell the shopkeeper was getting a bit annoyed by your presence. There was one other person in there with you, but the sun was starting to set, so you could imagine that the shopkeeper wanted to start closing. You looked around again, eyes scanning the title cards.

The Front Bottoms. You’d only heard a few of their songs, so maybe it would be good to give them a listen, and at least this way, you could get back home before the sun finished setting. You went to grab the last record, deciding it would be better than going home with nothing. As you reached for it, your hand quickly came into contact with another person’s, and you pulled your hand back quickly.

“Oh, sorry!” You heard, turning to look up at the only other person in there. He was tall, soft brown curls peeking out from a beige beanie that matched his sweater. He was really cute as well, a soft flush covering your cheeks as you looked up at his smile that honestly took your breath away.

You spent a moment remembering how to respond like a normal person before you spoke up, “Oh, no, that’s my bad!” You smiled softly, “You can have it, if you’d like, I’ve never really listened to them much.”

“Are you sure?” He gave you a soft smile that honestly made your heart melt a bit.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure, go ahead!”

He grabbed the record, holding it for a moment before looking back at you, “If you’ve never really listened, can I ask why you were going for it? I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just curious.”

“Oh,” you looked away, red dusting your cheeks, “I’ve been trying to expand my music taste a bit, so I figured I’d just come to a record store to find something that might catch my eye.”

He thought for a moment, walking away while talking, “Well, if you’re looking for suggestions,” he sorted through a few slots before walking over with a record, holding it out for you, “this band is one of my favourites, they have a really unique style and their lyrics are fantastic.”

You took the record, looking down at it. The front cover showed a pair of knees with blood going down one leg and a bed behind the legs. An interesting cover, to say the least. You turned to the back cover, which was more simple, detailing the tracklist with the band’s name up top.

“Los Campesinos!? I’ve never heard of them.”

He lit up like a kid in a candy store just from you saying their name, “Yeah, I mean, they’re not as big as they used to be, but they’re really good.”

You looked down at the record in your hand once again, before looking back up to the excited but nervous grin on his face and nodding. “Alright, yeah. Thank you.”

He perked up even more, stuttering out his next words, “Cool, yeah, alright.” There was a faint blush on his cheeks as he moved to go check out.

“I hope you enjoy it, really, it’s one of my absolute favorite records,” he gave you a gentle smile as he finished getting rung up by the shopkeeper. He looked like he wanted to ask you something, but before he could, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket, cursing softly.

“I’ve got to run,” he sighed, smiling at you once more as he headed towards the door, “it was nice talking to you.”

You tried to ignore the fact that your mood faltered a bit at the knowledge that he would have to leave, even if you’d only been speaking for about five-odd minutes. “It was nice talking to you too. Thanks for the recommendation!” You smiled, giving him a slight wave as he walked out the door, before purchasing the record. With a frown, you realized that you never caught his name.

two

It was raining. It was cold, and it was raining. It was cold, raining, and your arms hurt. You had walked half a mile back to your apartment in the freezing rain with a box of your things because your boss decided that your last work wasn’t “suitable for the brands image” whatever that meant and fired you. You’d cried about it on the first half of the walk, stressed over having to potentially find a new job. But now you were just tired, the rain was seeping through your coat to your skin, and you could feel the cold in your bones which was entirely unpleasant when carrying a shitty cardboard box filled with the contents of your entire office.

You managed to get into the building, thankfully your downstairs neighbor was kind enough to hold the door open for you when she’d seen you struggling to open the door. That wasn’t the hard part, though, no, the hard part was somehow trying to fish your keys from your pocket without dropping the box of things and then proceeding to unlock your door.

You pushed the box between your door and chest, trying to use the tension in order to get the keys out of your pocket.

You quickly got distracted by the sound of a door behind you opening. You didn’t really know much about your neighbor across the hall. You’d never actually met him, since it appeared you and him had opposing schedules for the most part. You were always out by eight A.M. to walk to work, and you usually only returned around 6 P.M.. From what you could gather, he usually left sometime around noon and only returned later in the night, though sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d hear him get back as late as 2 A.M..

Because of the distraction, you ended up dropping the keys right onto the ground. You tried to carefully manuveur your way into picking up the keys, but instead, you were met with the sound of crashing as the wet cardboard gave way and fell to the floor, scattering your belongings across the hallway.

You sighed, crouching down to start picking things up when you heard a voice from across the hall.

“Oh, here, let me,” your neighbor spoke, leaning down to grab a photo that had fallen in front of his door.

You looked up, shock flooding you for a moment as you finally got a look at your neighbor.

“You’re that guy,” you smiled, and his head whipped up alarmingly fast, “from the record store.”

He relaxed when you finished your sentence, a soft smile coming onto his face as he held out the photo, “Yeah, uh, hi. You live across the hall?�� You nodded as you took the photo, and he chuckled, “Well, that guess the world is funny like that.” He helped you clean up the things, placing them inside the box for you.

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, no, I insist, trust me,” he gave you a warm smile, and you suddenly didn’t feel so cold anymore.

“Thank you,” you spoke timidly

It didn’t take long before all of your things were recollected, and you carefully stood, unlocking your apartment door. You went to lean down to pick up the box, but your neighbor had already picked it up.

“I could bring it inside, if you want. It’s a bit heavy. Not- not that you can’t carry it, I- I just mean-” His nervous stuttering brought a laugh out of you, and he paused, face flushed as he looked up at you.

“It’s alright, I knew what you meant. That would be really nice, thank you,” you opened the door, holding it open for him as he carried the box in.

“You can just place it anywhere on the counter,” you spoke, and he nodded, placing it on the countertop before processing the contents of the box.

He clearly knew what that box meant, but he didn’t ask about it. Maybe it was because of your red-rimmed eyes, or the fact that it was quite obvious that you weren’t having a good day, but he asked another question instead.

“How did you like the album?”

You shrugged off your wet coat, hanging it up before turning to him, a soft smile on your face, “It was a bit odd, but I really liked it.”

He lit up, “Really? Which one was your favorite?”

You thought for a moment, “I’d have to say A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State.”

If he lit up just from you saying you liked the album, he was set ablaze with happiness as you spoke, “God, that song is fantastic! It’s my favorite as well.”

You grinned, and after a moment, it occurred to you that you still didn’t know his name.

“Alright, so, things I know about you: you really like The Front Bottoms and Los Campesinos!, and your favorite song from Romance is Boring is A Heat Rash. Things I don’t know: your name,” you chuckled.

A blush returned to his cheeks, and he looked down sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking back up at you, “My name’s Wilbur.” You smiled, “Wilbur. It’s nice to know you and meet you, in that order. My name’s Y/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well,” he gave you a bright smile, before humming softly, “Do you want some hot cocoa?” You laughed, tilting your head a bit, “What?”

“Well, I was gonna run by the shops to get some, so I was wondering, if you wanted, I could bring you some. I’d imagine it would be nice after getting caught in the rain.”

You looked up at him, unable to hide the smile spreading across your face, “Yeah, uh, thank you, Wilbur. That sounds lovely.”

three

Sometimes you think the universe had it out for you. It had only been about a month and a half since you’d gotten fired, and while you were able to start doing freelance work, that didn’t mean that things were looking up for you. Not at all. Because sometimes, when the stars aligned, they didn’t align positively.

You got the text an hour ago. Your boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — Jared, sent some short message detailing just why he couldn’t stand you anymore. How your “love” had died out and lost its spark and honestly you couldn’t care. He hadn’t done anything in months, you were the only one trying anymore. You’d just hoped maybe he would eventually try.

Regardless, you found comfort in the night sky. The roof was supposed to be off limits, but you discovered pretty quickly upon moving in that they never actually locked the door. Still, you didn’t make it a habit to come up here, just in case. But on nights like this, where you couldn’t decide if you were relieved or distraught, the quiet night sky always helped you feel somewhat consoled. You put on a nice pair of headphones and listened to some quiet music, allowing the song to drown out the sounds of the city.

You closed your eyes for a few minutes, taking a deep breath.

When you went to look up at the stars again, you were instead met with the concerned look of Wilbur from above you. You startled, sitting up and pulling your headphones off.

“Wilbur! Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me.”

You hadn’t seen Wilbur much since that day outside your door. He did eventually bring you the hot cocoa, and you had a nice chat but not much else after that. You saw him in passing sometimes, now that you weren’t working a 9-to-5 and could leave your apartment whenever you dictated, but you would only share a few words.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, a soft blush on his cheeks, “I didn’t mean to, I thought you’d heard me saying your name. Didn’t realise the headphones were soundproof.”

You sat up, getting a better look at him. He had a pair of nice black pants on, as well as a large grey jumper. He also had a guitar across his back. You knew he played, you could hear soft strumming sometimes at night, but it was different to actually see him with it. He was also holding a half-empty bottle, and while you couldn’t see the label, you could tell it was probably vodka.

“It’s alright,” you laughed lightly, “what are you doing out here anyways?”

“I could ask you the same,” he smiled, pulling the guitar off his back, “I come up here to play sometimes when my apartment feels too confining. You?”

You sighed, “I like staring at the stars when my head feels overwhelming. Makes it easier.”

He nodded, considering something for a moment, “Do you mind if I’m here as well? I won’t bother you, if you don’t want.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Might be nice to have some company, actually.”

You gave him a soft smile, and he returned the gesture, sitting across from you. He pulled his guitar across his lap, starting to pluck out some gentle notes. You looked up at the sky while he played, and it felt nicer than when you had been alone.

The only thing that brought you out of the peaceful energy was Wilbur pausing his playing to open the bottle and take a drink. You watched him curiously.

“Do you want some?” He asked, holding out the bottle, “It’s just vodka.”

Any other night, you would’ve said no. Any other night, you couldn’t justify it. Tonight? Tonight, you could.

You nodded and took the bottle, taking a swig. You cringed a bit from the taste, setting the bottle back down between you both. Wilbur’s company was nice. He played delicate melodies, and for the longest time, neither of you spoke.

The alcohol softened you, made you lose a bit of your filter. You were curious about Wilbur, and a conversation sounded comforting.

“You… said you come up here when your apartment gets too confining. What did you mean by that?” You drew your knees up to your chest as you asked him, giving him a curious look.

His hands paused for a moment as you asked, but he continued to play softly as he went on to speak.

“I’m not used to staying in one place for long. I haven’t lived here incredibly long, but sometimes I have to fight that urge to just pack up and go. Being in my apartment makes that feeling, that urge stronger. Being up here makes it feel easier, because I’m not stuck in some room. I’m just up here with the sky.”

You nodded as he explained, humming softly in lieu of a response. He took your questioning as an opportunity himself.

“You come up here when you’re overwhelmed. What’s on your mind?”

A sigh escaped you before you spoke softly, “A lot. I’ve lived here nearly six months, and it’s been… weird. Moved here for a job that fired me. Haven’t made an actual friend yet. My now ex-boyfriend gave up on our relationship. Lots of little things stacking into a pile that is currently tipping over.”

He continued playing as he listened and for a while you wondered if he was going to respond at all. Eventually he did, but it wasn’t the response you’d expected.

“You have me.”

“What?”

“I just- You said you haven’t made an actual friend yet,” he shrugged softly, “I’d say you have. Me.”

It took a moment — and you could see the nerves rising in him as you processed his words — but a grin split across your face.

“Thanks, Wilbur.”

He chuckled, and you could just barely spot the pink tint on his cheeks. “You make good company,” he reached for the bottle again, taking another sip as he spoke.

“So do you.” You drank a bit more as well, and the two of you fell back into comfortable silence.

You both stayed out there until the bottle was empty, chatting lightly every now and then, but mostly just staying quiet while Wilbur played soft tunes. When you went back downstairs to your respective apartments, Wilbur kept an arm wrapped around you to keep you from drunkenly stumbling your way down the stairs. It wasn’t stressful or anything, both of you muffling laughter to try and prevent any complaints. He walked you to your door, staying with you to make sure you got inside your apartment.

Once you had the door open, you walked in, but turned and leaned against the doorway to talk with him for a moment.

He smiled softly at you, speaking in hushed tones, “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You smiled back up at him, “You too, Wilbur.”

He turned and walked across the hall to his apartment, getting his door open. Before he could close the door behind him, you called out softly.

“Hey, Wilbur?”

He turned, looking back at you curiously.

“Thank you.”

His smile widened, eyes bright.

“Don’t worry about it. And if you ever need company again, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

You nodded, before walking into your apartment, and heading to bed feeling relieved and light despite everything that should’ve made you feel otherwise.

four

If there was any way to describe you, it was stubborn. Hence why, despite the severe cold and fever you had, you were still working. You were working from home on some graphic design for a law firm, so it wasn’t particularly hard, but the fever was definitely impacting your ability to actually understand the task you were supposed to be working on.

Despite most of your work being done from home, you still made it a habit to leave your apartment at least twice a week to stop you from going completely stir-crazy. You followed a routine. Once a week you’d go out to get groceries and a coffee, and the second day was up to you to figure out what to do. Wilbur made that easier. Your rooftop trips became a common habit, usually going up there once a week, sometimes with snacks or drinks, to just talk. In a matter of about two months, he quickly became your best friend, and even though it was getting cold outside, you’d always gladly jump at the opportunity to head up with him and just exist. It was also nice to have him living across the hall; it made living in a new city easier to have your closest friend mere steps away.

It also made it easy for him to notice your routine. More importantly, it made it easier for him to notice when your routine was off. Like this week, when you decided to forgo going out for groceries, deciding that you’d just deal with what you had since you weren’t feeling well enough to actually leave your apartment. That was the first time he noticed something was wrong.

The second time was when he texted you, asking if you wanted to go up to the roof that night. You replied, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was what the reply said.

‘ m niur sure im nto feelkibt to o good’

Your phone buzzed with his reply, a series of question marks that you couldn’t honestly gather the strength to reply to. You tried, for sure, but your message was less legible than the first, so you didn’t bother sending it. Because of how close you two had gotten, you’d also swapped emergency keys. Primarily because one night you dropped your key on the way in and had to take temporary residence on his couch while you waited for your apartment’s office to open, so you could get a replacement made.

When he got that text, it worried him even more. When you didn’t respond to his follow-up, it made him worry enough to go knock on your door. You didn’t even hear the knock, head foggy from a mixture of sickness and attempts to focus. That brought an entire other wave of concern to Wilbur, and he felt panic begin to bubble up in his chest.

He pulled out your spare key, opening the door quickly and eyes scanning the room.

“Y/N?” He called out, seeing you sitting on your couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you stared helplessly at your laptop screen.

You looked up, eyes taking a moment to focus. “Wilbur?” Your voice sounded weak, and your nose was clearly stuffed, “What are you doing here?”

He relaxed when his eyes met yours, walking over to you.

“I got worried. Your text was… less than readable. Plus, you didn’t answer when I knocked.” He looked over at your computer, “What are you doing?”

You groaned, tipping your head back. “Trying to work.”

“While sick?”

“I’m not that sick. Just a cold.”

He raised an eyebrow, walking closer and placing a hand on your forehead. “You definitely do not just have a cold. When’s your deadline?”

“Next week,” you sighed, “But I want to figure it out sooner.”

“And how’s that working for you?” He chuckled a bit, “If your text is anything to go off, I strongly doubt you’re doing your best work right now.”

You huffed softly, closing your eyes for a moment, “Maybe I’ll take a break-“

“Nope! You’re done for today,” he hummed, happily picking up your laptop and moving it to the side table.

“Will,” you whined out. Before you could even try to argue, you started coughing into your arm, gasping a bit for breath.

He cringed a bit, but he gladly fought his own hypochondriatic thoughts to make sure you were alright.

“Have you taken any medicine?” He hummed, walking over to your pantry and opening it. You’d be more baffled by his behaviour if it weren’t for the fact that raiding each other’s pantry was usually the first thing either of you did when you came over anyways.

“Not since this morning.”

He nodded, grabbing something from the pantry. From your spot on the couch, you couldn’t see what he was grabbing, but he didn’t even give you a chance to look before walking over.

“Go take a warm shower and put on comfy clothes, okay? You can take the medicine after. Sounds good?”

As stubborn as you were, it honestly sounded fucking fantastic. Maybe the sickness made you weaker, but you sighed, slowly standing. He reached his hands out, just in case you wobbled or fell.

“Do you need help getting there?” He asked. Normally, someone asking that would make you want to kick them out and crawl into a hole to die, but with Wilbur, you sensed no malice or judgement in his tone, only genuine care and concern. Regardless, you shook your head, stabilising yourself enough to walk to your room.

Your shower was quick, but the warm water did wonders. Your muscles felt immediately better, and your headache finally weakened just enough to make it feel relieving. Plus, you put on a big hoodie and some long pajama pants which helped you feel much more relaxed than the stiff clothing you’d been wearing before. You walked back out into your living room, seeing Wilbur standing at your stove.

“Will? What are you doing?” You chuckled, walking over.

He smiled, “I made soup. Go sit, it’s almost done.” “Did you make any for yourself?”

He faltered a bit, “Uh, no, I didn’t, why?”

You frowned, “Make yourself some too, please. I feel bad.”

“Will it mean you letting me take care of you?”

You nodded, and he sighed softly, a fond smile on his face. “Alright. Do you want to eat at the same time as me, or would you prefer now?” “Same time as you.”

“I should’ve guessed that,” he chuckled, “Okay. Just relax, put something on the TV. I’ll bring you the food and medicine once it’s done.”

You nodded, footsteps padding across the floor as you returned to the couch, this time curling up on your side, against the edge of the couch. You turned on some light music, knowing you wouldn’t have the energy to actually watch anything you could turn on. You closed your eyes, trying to relax as you fought off coughs and nausea waves.

You could hear Wilbur humming in the kitchen, and you smiled lightly. As stubborn as you were, it felt nice to have someone taking care of you. Especially since it was someone you trusted as much as Wilbur. You let yourself start to drift off as waves of exhaustion rolled over you.

You woke up from Wilbur gently shaking your shoulder.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but you need to eat,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to startle you awake.

“Mm’kay,” you groaned out a bit, slowly sitting up.

He helped you sit up, smiling and holding up the bowl. “Do you want to hold it or sit at the counter?”

You reached for the bowl, “If I move, I’ll probably cry,” you joked. He passed the bowl to you, and he sat down next to you with his own bowl. You started eating slowly, thankful that the soup wasn’t too hot.

“This is really good,” you smiled softly at him, “thank you, Wilbur.”

He smiled, “you really don’t have to thank me. I want to take care of you.”

You flushed lightly, looking down at your bowl and continuing to eat quietly.

“Do you want me to put on a movie or something?” He asked softly.

You nodded, and he took the remote, putting on some random movie. It wasn’t long before you finished your soup, relieved at the feeling of having food in your stomach. Once he finished, he stood, taking both your bowl and his own to the kitchen. He walked back over with the medicine, holding it out for you.

You took the medicine easily, groaning at the taste. Wilbur was quick to hand you a glass of water before returning to the kitchen and cleaning up. When he got back, he sat next to you, placing a hand to your forehead.

“Your temperature feels better now.” He noted, letting his hand fall.

You gently shifted, your head now leaning against his shoulder, “I still feel like shit.”

He chuckled, and an arm wrapped around you, causing you to lean into his warmth further, “The medicine should kick in soon. You should’ve told me sooner, and you shouldn’t have been working. It only makes it harder for your body to heal.”

You groaned, “I thought I was fine. I never get sick like this.”

He hummed, gently rubbing your back and God, if it didn’t feel amazing, “You’ve been dealing with a lot lately. You need rest.”

You sighed and nodded, “I know.”

“Just relax, alright?” he smiled, “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re better.”

Your heart warmed at the thought. You nodded before shifting and laying your head on his lap. “Is this okay?”

He nodded, a hand coming to gently thread through your hair, “Of course. You can sleep, if you’d like. I’ll be here.”

You smiled, eyes closing slowly. “Thank you, Wilbur,” you spoke softly, exhausting creeping into your bones and clear in your voice.

“Don’t worry about it. I want you to be okay.”

You fell asleep quickly, a soft smile on your face.

five

Things were starting to look up. Your freelance work was bringing in good money, and even better, you had a date tonight. However, it had been a long while since you’d gone on a date. So, you frankly had no clue what to wear.

You took a quick shower, putting on a robe and blowdrying your hair. Once you were at least semi-presentable, you walked across the hall, knocking on Wilbur’s door.

He opened the door quickly, a smile on his face, “Hey, what’s going on?” He chuckled softly.

You just smiled, “I have no clue what to wear. Can you help me pick?” He nodded, grabbing his keys and locking his door before following you to your apartment.

“Just, sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.”

He sat down, smiling softly. Wilbur always looked good, and he happened to be cursed with either amazing or horrible fashion sense. Today was one of his amazing fashion sense days, a pair of nice jeans and a simple black button-up, plus a sweater over the top and the black Docs he always wore. He would definitely be able to help you choose.

You walked into your closet, grabbing two options and walking back out to him, “Which one?”

He looked over the two options, thinking, “The black one. It’s a lot more date-night vibe, plus you’ve said that top makes you feel more confident.”

You grinned, nodding quickly before going back to your room to change. You spent a bit more time getting ready, making sure your accessories were nice, fixing up your hair and your face a bit before taking a deep breath. You checked the time, only ten minutes until your date.

You walked back out, looking at him with a soft smile, “So? What do you think?”

He looked up from his phone, and a grin slowly spread across his face, “You look amazing. Seriously, you look absolutely fantastic.”

A flush spread across your cheeks, looking down a bit shyly, “Thank you, Wilbur. For your help, as well.”

He nodded, standing, “Of course. You know I’m always here if you need help,” he looked back down at his phone before he looked up at you, “So, you ready to go?” He grinned, holding his hand out towards you.

“I’m ready,” you smiled, taking his hand, “Where are we going, by the way?”

He chuckled, walking with you out the door, “It’s a surprise. It won’t be a long walk, though, don’t worry.” He smiled, and the two of you were off for your date.

Freelance work sometimes meant traveling. You hated being away from Wilbur, since you guys spent nearly every day seeing each other. However, there was a job a short flight away that was paying really well, so you took it and had spent four days on this trip. You were supposed to be there for a week, but you’d finished a lot faster than anticipated, so you were able to head home early.

There was another reason you wanted to head home early too. Wilbur hadn’t responded to you in the past three days, aside from occasionally liking the messages you sent and sending the occasional heart. This wasn’t something new, there were days when Wilbur didn’t have the energy to leave his bed, let alone send a proper response. What worried you was that this was the first time you weren’t physically there to help him through it. So when you got the approval to head home early, you jumped at the opportunity and immediately booked your plane home.

You stopped at your apartment first, dropping off your bags and changing into one of Wilbur’s hoodies and a pair of sweatpants before walking over to his apartment. You unlocked his door, a normal thing for the two of you now, walking in slowly. There were takeout boxes cluttering the kitchen, along with empty and half-filled cups littered throughout the apartment. You walked over to his room.

The lights were off, but you could see the light from his phone on his bed. He was asleep, his phone left open on some random post he’d been scrolling on. You locked his phone and put it on the charger, leaning over and gently kissing his forehead. He didn’t react other than shifting a bit in his sleep. You looked over him quietly. There were bags under his eyes, so he clearly hadn’t been sleeping much, and you could tell from the pile of laundry that he hadn’t done much to take care of himself. You let him rest, returning to the living room to start cleaning up.

You spent an hour throwing things away and taking out the trash, and after, you washed the dirty dishes and dried them, putting them all back in the specific place he’d always put them. You wiped down some of the surfaces as well, knowing how he got sometimes about germs. You went to his room next, picking up all the clothes from the floor and taking them to the washing machine. You organized his desk as well, moving cluttered papers and notes of song lyrics and stacking them into a nice pile. You had your back turned to him as you dusted his room a bit, and you heard his voice.

“Darling?” He spoke softly, voice a bit raw from lack of use.

You turned, walking over to him and smiling, “Hi, Will.” You leaned down, gently kissing him.

He kissed you back lovingly, reaching a hand up to gently cup your cheek. When you’d pulled away, his thumb gently stroked over your cheek.

“What are you doing back already?”

You smiled softly, lightly brushing back some of his messy hair, “Finished the project early. Plus, I missed you.”

He cracked a gentle smile, arms slowly coming and wrapping around you. You let him pull you into the bed, wrapping your arms around him as well.

“I missed you too,” you murmured against your shoulder.

You held him tightly, the both of you lying there quietly for a while.

“How are you feeling?” you asked softly, looking at him with concern.

He looked ashamed for a moment, head falling a bit, “Not great.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He nodded after a while, taking a deep breath, “Just one of those times, I guess. I- I don’t really know what triggered it, I think my heartbeat was just a bit too fast the other night, and I was just so sure that this was it for me. And I just got so scared that I couldn’t do anything. It just ended up getting worse, and even if I don’t think I’m dying anymore, it just triggered a lot of bad thoughts, I guess. After a day, even standing felt exhausting. I felt paralyzed.” He sighed, and you gently kissed his forehead.

“Well, you’re not dead. You’re right here with me. You’re okay,” you spoke softly, staring at him lovingly. It wasn’t often that his hypochondria overtook him so much, but you knew how hard it was when it did, even if you didn’t fully understand it.

He nodded. “I know, I am. It just all got a bit overwhelming.”

“That’s okay. It happens to all of us sometimes. You don’t have to feel bad for it, alright?”

He nodded, hugging you tighter. “Thank you,” he whispered out.

You kissed the top of his head, “You don’t have to thank me, okay? I’m here for you, throughout everything.”

He squeezed you tighter for a second before relaxing, just holding you gently as he nodded.

“How long have you been back?” He asked softly.

“A few hours,” you shrugged.

He frowned, “I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up.”

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize. Plus, I made good use of my time.”

He tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

You smiled, gently playing with his hair, “I just cleaned up a bit. I wanted you to rest, and I wanted you to wake up to a clean place. I know that mess stresses you out, and I didn’t want it to add to the bad feelings.”

He looked up at you, and he looked around the room after, processing the lack of clothes on the floor and trash. When he looked back at you, he had tears in his eyes, “thank you,” he whispered, biting his lip and holding you close again, “you’re the fucking best.”

You smiled fondly, “Don’t worry about it, really. I want to take care of you the same way you take care of me.”

He sniffled a bit, and you pulled him forward while he cried into your shoulder for a moment.

You let him cry as much as he needed to, rubbing his back. When he’d stopped crying, you pulled away, looking down at him. “When’s the last time you showered?” You asked softly, no judgement to be found anywhere in your tone.

He thought for a moment, “Three days ago, I think. I don’t remember, if I’m being honest.”

You nodded, smiling softly, “Well, I just got off a plane, so I’m pretty gross myself. Let’s shower, and then we can change your sheets? And I can make us some dinner?”

He nodded as well, sitting up slowly, “Okay.”

You sat up with him, holding his hand the entire time, “Rooftop dinner tonight?”

He smiled, bringing your hand up to his mouth, kissing it gently, “Yeah. That sounds really nice.”

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #mar writes #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #mcytumblr #mcyt wilbur

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ace-touya · 1 year ago

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EraserMic Family Headcanons

Along with his radio show, Mic also has a podcast, and Eri plays this all the time when she’s feeling lonely, because she has no idea what he’s talking about but his voice is comforting

Mic is physically incapable of swearing. Whenever he swears, his quirk censors him, so it’s just a loud beep. This annoys him.

Aizawa can rap. Nobody believes Shinso when he mentions this

They all like styling each other’s hair

Eri considers being gay the default setting. She’s never met a straight couple before.

Eri and Shinso have matching bunny slippers

Shinso and Aizawa have matching sleeping bags

Most of the family are cat people. Then there’s Mic.

Most of the family dress alt. Then there’s Eri.

Mic doesn’t sleep. He says that Aizawa gets enough sleep for both of them

Because Mic is hard of hearing, they all use sign language around the house, so even though Shinso and Eri aren’t fluent, they’re learning quickly

They have a family quotebook

Midnight is like the aunt and she has girls nights with Eri

Eri loves music because of the concert and Mic being her dad. I can see her learning piano, and really liking art. As a kid, she wants to try a bunch of different hobbies to try and figure out what she’s interested in.

Mic doesn’t trust Aizawa driving because he fell asleep at the wheel once

When Eri wants to sleep in Mic and Aizawa’s bed, she asks. Sometimes Shinso wants to sleep in there too, but he doesn’t ask, he just gets in.

Eri has a massive fear of getting sick because Chisaki had hypochondria and likely treated her even worse whenever she was unwell.

Aizawa, Shinso and Mic all wear eyeliner

They all love hugs, but only Mic and Eri admit it

#erasermic family #hitoshi shinsou #eri mha #hizashi yamada #shouta aizawa #bnha #mha #boku no hero acedamia #my hero academia #erasermic #present mic #headcanons

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mrsstruggle · 6 months ago

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The Beast of War - Chapter 1 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

This is the second part of the Shadow Wolf Series. Read The Lost Child First if you haven't!

Series Summary: In the aftermath of discovering her true identity and reuniting with her long-lost family, Y/N Stilinski finds herself adjusting to a new chapter of her life in Beacon Hills. With her brother and his friends in their senior year at High School, the town faces a fresh new threat. Y/N must navigate the complexities of her new life while confronting the looming threat that threatens to hurt her and the people she loves.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Series Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Stiles Stilinski x Malia Tate (for now), Steve Rodgers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff

Words: 4.5k

Note: I am aware this is late! Please don't hate me!

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

Masterlist

The Beast of War Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

---

“Are you going to keep secretly writing notes about me or ask me that question you’ve been too afraid to ask?” Y/N questions, her eyes never leaving the computer where she is tying in the new patient information. She is currently six hours into her ten-hour shift.

The boy sitting on the exam table freezes. His thumbs stop typing in his notes app as he looks at Y/N in surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Mhm, sure. This is the fifth time you’ve been in this week, but you always seem to leave with nothing wrong. You either have hypochondria or you’ve kept coming back until I was your nurse.”

“Maybe the previous nurses and doctors didn’t do a good job and sent me home without properly helping me.” He picks at the bottom of his shirt in a nervous habit.

“The first time you came in was for pink eye, which has been noted that you didn’t have that. The second time was for a rash on your arm that you didn’t have.” Y/N says, looking over his previous visit notes, “The third time was a bump on your knee that turned out to be your kneecap. The fourth time was for a broken wrist that turned out to be broken or even sprained. Now you’re here due to flu-like symptoms, but your vitals are all good and there is currently no indication of you being sick.”

He forces out a fake cough, “Are you sure about that?”

Y/N turns to look at him, “I’m sure. You do know this is an emergency room, right? We have actual patients that need help, and we are short staffed. We don’t need some kid coming in trying to meet the Stark girl to get a good photo for his Instagram or whatever.”

“First of all, I’m not a kid—we’re the same age. Second, this isn’t for my Instagram, this is for my criminology class.” He says, dropping his act. He knew there was no point in tripling down on his lies.

“Well, your parents must have a lot of money or some really good insurance for you to be able to show up here five different times.”

“Something like that.”

Y/N looks him up and down, contemplating what she should do. She should just send him home, but she’s worried he will keep showing up until he gets what he wants. “The school year just started, why do you need to speak with me for your criminology class now?”

“Our first assignment is to do a paper on a famous crime. What’s more famous than the kidnapping of Tony Stark’s daughter?”

“I can think of several.” Y/N lets out a sigh, turning her body to fully face him, “You get five questions. If I don’t want to answer one, then it’s still going to count as one of your questions. After that, you have to leave and also promise not to come back here unless you have an actual emergency.”

He smiles in victory, turning his phone back on, “Do you mind if I record this so I can type out your answers later?”

“Sure.”

He opens the Voice Memos app on his phone, hits the record button, and holds it up between Y/N and himself. “Okay, first question, I am aware that the Avengers are currently relocating to a little outside of Beacon Hills, but have you been back to the other Avengers compound or the place you lived while with them?”

“No, I have not been back.”

He opens his mouth to ask her to elaborate but decides against it in case she counts that as a question. “Second question, what was your initial reaction when you discovered the truth?”

Y/N pauses as she thinks of an answer. For safety reasons, when they announced who she was, they changed the story of how it happened. Instead of telling the public she was re-kidnapped by Hydra, they told them about Bucky discovering the photo of her in Derek’s auto shop. It’s part of the reason some people like to show up there.

To the public’s knowledge, Hydra kidnapped her in hopes of raising her to be their soldier before she was able to escape on her own when they left her unattended outside. She was then found by a friend of Talia Stilinski and adopted by the Stilinski’s. To the public’s knowledge, Pepper didn’t hand her over to Hydra, she was never experimented on, she has no powers, and she didn’t know about the Avengers because she was too young—not because her memories were blocked.

“Mostly confusion. It’s not every day that someone shows up and claims to be your other family. Now I’m just waiting for my biological family to do the same thing.” Y/N jokes.

“Third question, I know thanks to photos online that you spend some time with your brother, Peter, but have you spent any time with your sister, Morgan?”

Y/N debates on whether she wants to answer the question or not. The answer is no, she hasn’t spent any time with her sister, nor has she met her. She has nothing against Morgan, and she doesn’t blame her for Pepper’s actions, but she’s not sure if Morgan feels the same way. According to Peter, she is close with her mother, and her relationship with Tony is strained due to his shortcomings as a father to her.

Y/N is unsure if Morgan blames her for those shortcomings. It’s because of Tony’s obsession with finding her that caused him to neglect to be a good father for Morgan. It’s because of his resentment and anger toward Pepper’s nonchalance at Y/N being gone and her happiness toward the new baby that caused him to leave Pepper in the first place. It’s because of his grief of losing her that caused him to be unable to hold her until she was three years old.

It wasn’t until Morgan became a teenager did Tony start to step up as her father. He still isn’t perfect, and he can never make up for her younger years, but he is a lot better. Y/N adds Tony and Peter moving to Beacon Hills as another reason for Morgan to be justified to hate her.

Y/N knows that if Derek or Peter knew her thoughts about Morgan, they would tell her that she can’t blame herself for Tony’s mistakes. The choices Tony made were his own, not hers. Right now, she’s told Peter and Tony that the decision to meet, form a relationship, or anything is fully up to Morgan. She doesn’t want to cause any upheaval in Morgan’s life by inserting herself into it. If Morgan wants Y/N in her life, then she will be. If she doesn’t want anything to do with her, that’s okay. If she wants to meet her once and then never again, Y/N will do that too.

She does however know—thanks to Peter—that Morgan has decided that she prefers a private life away from the spotlight. While Peter attends all charity and public events in the Stark name, Morgan likes to stay home away from the crowds and paparazzi. She even keeps away from social media, so she doesn’t see anything about herself or her family.

“Um, I’m going to pass on that question. Morgan is a minor and prefers to stay out of the press. I don’t feel comfortable talking about whatever relationship I may or may not have with her. That’s private and it will stay that way.” Y/N answers. “You have two questions left.”

The guy huffs in frustration, “Fine. Fourth question, what are your thoughts on the theories and videos people were making after it was first brought to the public’s attention that you’re Y/N Stark?”

“I think the best word to describe I how felt, and still feel, about the things people were saying is disappointment. I’m disappointed in how people were, and still are, talking about my family. Honestly, I don’t really care what people say about me,” That’s a lie but she isn’t going to correct herself, “but I am disappointed in the way people talked about my family and the people I love.”

He nods his head in understanding, “Okay, last question, do you plan on changing your name back to Stark?”

No, she doesn’t. To be honest, it’s not even a thought that has crossed her mind. Scott asked her about it once when he saw her driver’s license and her only thought was that she hopes Derek proposes before Tony asks so she has an excuse that won’t hurt his feelings.

“Maybe, I guess we’ll see,” Y/N says instead. “Now, you can be on your way, and I’ll make sure to let the front desk know I refuse to see you if you come back with anything less than a life-threatening injury. Hopefully, that will keep you away and make you reconsider faking injuries and illnesses, and taking a room away from someone who actually needs it.”

He hits the stop button before turning off his phone and thanking her for answering his questions. He follows her out of the room and rushes out of the building to start working on his paper.

“What’s that about?” Melissa asks, watching the boy run out of the hospital.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sighs, “Just another person who wanted to interview me. I humored him for a few questions before I told him to not come back unless he’s dying.” She hands Melissa the boy’s file that’s in her hand. “Can you put a note in his file to let the others know I won’t see him if he comes back unless necessary?”

“That’s like the fourth one this month,” Melissa laughs in disbelief.

“What can I say, I’m famous,” Y/N winks at her. She and Melissa both know how much she hates the amount of attention she’s gotten since Kate exposed her. At one point in her life, she dreamed of being a star that everyone loved and was extremely famous. Now she wishes she could go back to being a nobody.

“When do you get off today?”

“I have about four hours left and then I’m out of here. I’ve got to go home a prepare myself for family dinner.” Y/N says, grabbing a new patient’s clipboard.

“I heard Stiles telling Scott about that. Is this the first dinner with all of you together?”

“Yep, and I’m already regretting it.”

Melissa lets out a laugh, “I’m sure it will be fine, and if it isn’t, you can tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“I actually have the next two days off, so it will be a few days until I can give you a play-by-play.” With her working so many shifts to make up for her unintended long absence, she decided she needed two days to take a break. She’s exhausted and just wants to sleep in for a day.

“I can’t wait.”

---

“Hey! Where’s Stiles?” Y/N asks as she greets her dad. He’s the first one to arrive for dinner and she expected Stiles to be with him.

“He said that he could drive himself here, so I drove here straight after work.” The sheriff replies, pulling Y/N into a big hug.

“Okay, well, the others should be here soon if you want to go ahead and sit at the table, or I can turn the TV on, and you can sit in the living room and wait.”

“Where’s Derek?” He questions.

“In here!” Derek calls out from the kitchen.

The sheriff follows Y/N into the kitchen to see Derek checking on the rolls in the oven. “How are you, Derek?”

“I’m good, sir. How are you?” Derek asks, shaking Noah’s hand in greeting.

“Well, I’m still here so I guess I’m good.”

“Dad, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll help Derek finish up,” Y/N says, gesturing her hand toward their dining table. She moves to help Derek when there’s a knock on the front door. “Never mind.”

Walking toward the front door, she can hear two heartbeats on the other side. Opening the door, Tony and Peter are now standing in front of her, “Hey. Thanks for coming.” She hugs them both as they enter the loft.

They had a few conversations after taking down Kate and the hunters, but they are still a little awkward around each other. Y/N and Peter not so much, but she isn’t sure how to navigate a relationship with Tony. She doesn’t want to come off as she doesn’t care about him, but she also needs time to get used to having another dad.

With Peter it’s different. They’re close in age and they have the shared trauma from Hydra. She also feels like she talking to Stiles most of the time.

Y/N shuts the door behind them, she leads them into the kitchen. She pulls out her phone to text Stiles as they greet Derek and Noah. Tony and Peter sit down at the table, and she helps Derek bring the food over.

She looks down at her phone when it vibrates in her hand, “Stiles says he’s a bit caught up and that we should start without him. He’ll be a bit late.”

“What’s he caught up with?” Derek asks, sitting at the head of the table next to Noah and Y/N.

“He didn’t say.” She hopes it’s just something to do with school and not supernatural-related.

“So, Derek, when are you going to start working on your old house?” Peter asks Derek. Y/N has told him a bit about Derek’s plans, but she hasn’t told him everything.

“Um, soon. I’m waiting until after I hire someone to help out at the shop.” Derek replies. A few people have applied to the open position, but two of them ended up being Avengers fans who faked their resumes.

“You know who would probably be interested in the position, Barnes,” Tony says. “He would know what to do and he’s been looking for a job.”

Bucky hasn’t applied to any yet, but he has a few saved. He’d been thinking about taking a step back from the Avengers for a bit. After seeing the files and the videos of what happened to Y/N, they seemed to trigger some bad memories that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. He’s also had several nightmares about what they could’ve possibly done to Y/N if she wasn’t rescued when she was.

Derek shares a small look with Y/N as if to ask for help with what he should say, “Yeah, I could send him the listing to see if he’s interested, or it’s on our website too. At least, that’s what Lydia told me.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders a little when Derek looks back at her. She’s not going to tell Derek whether he should hire him or not, or even give Bucky a chance. It’s Derek’s business so that decision is completely up to him.

Tony opens his mouth to say something else, but Y/N decides to interrupt him. She’s sure Tony is about to say something that he thinks will be helpful for Derek, and she knows Derek probably doesn’t care to hear it. Derek likes doing things his way and he doesn’t always love people injecting their opinions. “So, Dad, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

Y/N ignores the longing look in Tony’s eyes as she speaks to the other man who raised her.

“Uh, not to my knowledge, no.” Sheriff Stilinski doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The tone in her voice says he should, but he can’t think of anything.

“Really?” Y/N looks down at his left ring finger where his wedding ring used to be.

“Right, I may or may not have a date tomorrow night.”

“Good for you,” Derek says proudly, patting him on the back. They haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but he and the sheriff have grown closer after he started dating Y/N. It was rough at first, but they started to get along after the sheriff saw how well Derek took care of Y/N after she was attacked one night by a hunter. They bonded that night as Y/N rested. It’s why Derek knows that the sheriff going on a date is a big deal for him.

“Who’s it with?” Y/N asks with a teasing smile.

“It’s with someone you know,” Noah says, keeping it vague.

“Well, it’s not with Melissa because she would’ve told me. But you also didn’t tell me until now. Oh my god, you’re date’s with Melissa.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Deaton?”

“It’s with a woman.”

“Well, who else do I know that’s at an appropriate age for you to date?” Y/N mutters mostly to herself.

Tony and Peter silently eat their food and watch the conversation with amused smiles on their faces. They like seeing Y/N with a smile on her face. It’s a lot better than what she looked like when dealing with Hydra, the hunters, and Derek getting shot with an arrow.

“It’s Lydia’s mom,” Derek states.

Noah looks at him a little shocked. He didn’t expect Derek to guess correctly or even chime in. “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t, but I do now.” Derek sends a triumph wink toward Y/N. She’s a little surprised he’s showing this side of himself with Tony and Peter here. With strangers, and sometimes the pack, he prefers to only let them see him as the tall, broody guy who doesn’t have many feelings.

“Just don’t tell Stiles. I haven’t told him I’m going on a date yet either.” He looks pointedly toward Y/N.

“Fine. My lips are sealed.” Y/N pretends to zip her lips for added effect. “What about you Peter? How’s MJ?”

The last time Peter had talked to her about MJ he wasn’t sure about the direction of their relationship. He loves her, but she’s still in college going for her master’s and he’s moving to Beacon Hills to be closer to his sister. They hadn’t decided if they wanted to try long-distance, have Peter go back and forth, or if they should call it quits for now.

Y/N told him that she shouldn’t be the reason his relationship with MJ should change. He just replies that he thought she was dead for several years and has missed out on being in her life, so he doesn’t plan on missing anymore.

“She’s good. We still haven’t decided what we’re going to do yet.” Peter replies, keeping his eyes down on the food on his plate to avoid looking at her.

“How has it been at the hospital? Are people still showing up and harassing you?” Tony asks, turning the attention away from Peter because he can feel he doesn’t want to talk about MJ.

“Yeah, we had a guy come in today asking me questions. It’s the fifth time he’s been in this week.” Y/N rolls her eyes in annoyance.

Tony frowns at her answer. He offered her a job to work with the Avengers in their medical wing to avoid the crazy press and fans and to spend more time with her, but she declined. She likes her job, and she likes that she can help her brother and friends by having her job.

“He’s been in five times?” Derek questions, his tone on the protective side.

“Yeah, he’s some college guy who wanted to interview me for some school project.”

“College guy?” “Didn’t the school year just start?” Derek and Peter question at the same time.

“He said it was for a paper for his criminology class. I let him ask me a few questions and then told the front desk not to let him back unless he’s dying.”

“What questions did he ask you?” Peter asks.

“Like ‘how did I react when I found out’ and ‘how did I feel about the videos people were making about me.’ I gave him five questions and only answered the ones I wanted to.” Y/N shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I only did it so that he’d stop wasting the staff’s time with his fake injuries and illnesses.”

“Has Stiles told you if he’s on his way?” Noah asks, changing the subject.

Y/N checks her phone and sees that Stiles hasn’t texted her, “Nope, but you know how he gets. He probably lost track of time, or he’s still caught up in whatever he’s doing.”

The table goes quiet, and everyone continues eating. No one knows what to say. This isn’t the first dinner they’ve had together, but they all typically end in silence. They do some polite small talk in the beginning—mostly everyone only speaking to Y/N—then finish their food in silence.

Derek takes his and Y/N’s empty plates to the sink when they're done. Y/N packs up some of the leftovers for her dad to take home.

“I should go. I’ve got a long shift in the morning.” Noah says. He pats Derek on the shoulder as a goodbye. He takes the leftovers from Y/N’s hands and follows her to the front door. “I’m assuming you’re going to show up to the station before my date tomorrow.”

“You know me so well.” Y/N smiles, hugging him goodbye. “See you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He closes the door behind himself as he leaves. Y/N turns to Tony and Peter who are ready to leave as well.

“Thanks for having us over. Dinner was good.” Tony says, putting his jacket back on that he took off while eating.

“Thanks for coming,” Y/N says, hugging them both goodbye. “My schedule is starting to slow down so I’ll let you know when I’m free for us to do something.” She notices Tony perk up at the thought of spending more time with her.

She waves at them goodbye before closing and locking the loft door. Sighing in exhaustion, she turns to see Derek standing and staring at her with a familiar lovestruck look in his eyes.

“I feel like I could sleep for a week,” Y/N says, slowly walking over to him.

Derek wraps his arms around her when she reaches him, “Well, I’ve done the dishes, so how about we go upstairs, take a nice hot bath, and then get you to bed?”

“Keep saying things like that and I’ll get on one knee right now and ask you to marry me.”

“I prefer when you get on both knees.”

Y/N scoffs at his joke, “Just take me upstairs to a bath. If you treat me right, maybe the bath could turn into something more.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Derek says. Y/N lets out a laugh when Derek wraps his arms around her thighs and picks her up, carrying her upstairs.

---

Y/N slowly opens her eyes to see Derek asleep next to her. She smiles a little at how cute he looks when he’s asleep. Turning to the clock on her bedside table, she notices that it’s almost midnight. She’s only been asleep for a little over an hour and she’s not sure what woke her up. As she turns back to Derek, their bedroom door flies open.

“Y/N?” Stiles calls out from the doorway.

“What the fuck Stiles?” Y/N groans, clamping her eyes shut when he flicks on the bedroom light. She can feel Derek waking up next to her. “Why the fuck are you here so late?”

Stiles walks into the room and sits on the bed next to Y/N, “I feel like I’m going crazy and you’re the only one that believes me.” Y/N can smell that he reeks of anxiety.

“Go home,” Derek groans, wraps an arm around Y/N’s waist, and pulls her in closer to him, pushing his face into the back of her neck to try and hide from the light.

Y/N sighs, using her hands to block the ceiling light, “You can tell me what’s going on after you turn off the light.”

Stiles huffs in frustration but gets up and turns off the light before sitting back on the bed, “There’s something off about Theo but no one believes me. Scott thinks I should give him the benefit of the doubt and that, even if he is bad, everyone is savable.”

“Does some of this have to do with why you didn’t show up to dinner?”

“Sorry about that. Me and Liam followed him around to see what he’d do.”

“And what did he do?”

“We may have followed him to the bridge near where his sister was found.” Stiles mumbles, fiddling with the drawstrings on his hoodie.

“He could’ve noticed you following him and put on a ‘good guy’ act,” Y/N says, trying to think of something that would support Stiles’ theory.

“Don’t encourage him,” Derek mumbles sleepily behind her.

“I broke into the administration office and found the transfer form his dad signed and compared it to a speeding ticket he signed eight years ago. The signatures are completely different.” Stiles says. He knows he’s right about Theo and he doesn’t get why Scott doesn’t believe him.

“Okay, I believe you. Look, I’m exhausted so how about we get some sleep and talk about this some more later? You’ve got school tomorrow, so you need some sleep too.” Y/N says as gently as she can. She doesn’t want him to feel like she doesn’t believe him either, but she might fall back asleep any minute now. “You know you are welcome to the guest room. It’s practically yours now anyway.”

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Stiles asks shyly.

“No,” Derek answers quickly.

“Not like in your bed, but like can I drag the guest room’s mattress in here and sleep on it on the floor?”

Even in the dark, Y/N can see the vulnerability in his eyes, “Yes, you can sleep in here.” Stiles smiles and runs out of the room toward the guest room.

“You should’ve said no,” Derek groans.

“He’s worried about his friends and senior year has been giving him a lot of anxiety after asking Dad about his high school buddies.”

“How has that given him so much anxiety that he stinks of it?”

“Dad told him that he no longer speaks to any of his friends from high school and he’s scared him and his friends will end up the same way.”

Derek sighs, “Fine, but him staying in here is a one-time thing.”

Y/N starts to reply when Stiles comes back into the room, pulling the guest bedroom mattress behind him with one hand and his pillows and blankets in the other. He puts the mattress against the wall that faces Y/N’s side of the bed.

He puts his pillows down on the mattress before laying down and wrapping his blankets around himself, “Okay, goodnight. Don’t do anything gross since I’m here.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his last sentence, “Goodnight Stiles.”

As she starts to drift back off to sleep, she hears Stiles speak again, “Y/N?”

“What?”

“Did you notice that Dad stopped wearing his ring?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replies gently.

“Do you think he’s met someone?”

“You’d have to ask him that.” She would’ve responded with yes, but she promised her dad earlier that she wouldn’t tell Stiles because he wanted to be the one to do it.

“I just want him to be happy,” Stiles says, staring up at the ceiling.

“Me too.”

There’s a moment of silence before Stiles says, “I miss Mom.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, goodnight,” Stiles rolls over to his side to face the wall.

“Goodnight,” Y/N pushes herself back into Derek’s loose embrace. After Stiles laid out the mattress, he was out like a light. She starts to drift off again when Stiles interrupts her again.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for believing me.”

“Always.”

---

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