#running through my mental notes of math and it hurts so i feel you

[updownlately]

It's math though, angles 😢

angles? like trig? or the complementary angles and shit?

[sitkowski]

this delicate balance ( noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo )

pairing: nicholas ruffilio x noah sebastian cw: none. a little bit of angst, mentions of post tour burn out. pretty much just fluff. word count: 860 author's note: more soft boys from my riptide verse. this is set in the same time frame as twin skeletons. title comes from "existentialism on prom night" by straylight run. i think i hurt myself a little bit with this one. divider by @saradika-graphics ✨

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || the riptide verse masterpost

Waking up without an alarm, without someone telling him where he’s got to be and what he’s got on his schedule is a new concept for Noah lately. The band has been going non stop, and he has to remind himself out loud that this break is for the best. That if they didn’t take it, if he didn’t take it, he was going to become resentful of it all. He’d never been more grateful for the band—his family—than when they told him they were basically making the decision for him, all he had to do was agree to it. And now, here he is, sleeping in and waking up with Lydia tucked into the space behind his knees, and the sounds of Nicholas talking out in the hallway, presumably to Jerry since Dave is sleeping on Nicholas’ pillow beside him.

The door’s already half open, but when it opens more, Noah lifts his head to see Nicholas peeking in.

“I’m up,” Noah murmurs, trying to stretch without disturbing the cats. “What time is it?”

He looks around for his phone, but doesn’t see it. And when he looks to the other side of the bed where Nicholas’ alarm clock usually sits, he sees that something’s been tossed over the display so he won’t see the numbers.

“It’s almost one.” Nicholas says as he comes further into the bedroom.

Noah went to sleep around midnight the night before, and his eyes went wide as he does the mental math. “You let me sleep for thirteen hours?”

“I put your phone in the kitchen too. You needed it, you didn’t wake up once in the middle of the night. Trust me, I checked.”

He can usually sleep that much and more after a tour, but normally he’s ready to bounce back after a day or two. It’s been two weeks, and he still feels the burnout. Never ending jet lag. Not wanting to do anything but sleep and usually that’s pretty fitful the first few nights home before he starts to feel normal. Normal isn’t coming so quickly this time.

Nicholas making sure that he slept fully through the night does something to his heart, and he gently extracts himself from the bed and shuffles over, immediately wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. He feels stupidly grateful, and doesn’t know what to say. That's been happening a lot lately. But he doesn’t really need to say anything, Nicholas knows. Reaching up, he pulls Noah’s head down to press his lips to his forehead.

“Why don’t you shower, and then we’ll figure out what we’re gonna do today.”

It’s not lost on Noah that there is no itinerary, no schedule he’s got to follow. If he wanted to turn around and go back to bed, he could. But he takes a shower, which at least helps him feel a little more awake. When he goes downstairs finally, he makes himself a cup of coffee and takes it out onto the back patio, where Nicholas is sitting with his sketchbook.

“Any plans you wanna make?” he asks, not looking up from his drawing.

Noah gets a little distracted just watching him draw, something he hasn’t had an opportunity to do very often. He wants Nicholas to tattoo him again at some point, he’d give up every last inch of bare skin left over for him to fill in. But he doesn’t realize he hasn’t answered the question until Nicholas is looking up at him expectantly.

“I mean, not really? Half the day is already gone and—”

“Do we need to talk about you deserving things again?”

Noah blushes hotly at that, trying to fight off a smile at the memory of just a few days ago. “Not right this second, no?”

Because he knows the whole point of taking this time off, was to actually try to use the break to relax. And the more he thinks about it, the less guilt he feels about it. There’s not some magic fix, but he’s glad to have Nicholas there with him. As if he’d be anywhere else, he knows he wouldn’t make it through any of this without him.

“You’re gonna wait me out if I don’t give you an answer, aren’t you?”

Nicholas puts down his pencil. “If you wanna do nothing today, then do nothing. It’s entirely up to you.”

“Okay. Let’s order burgers from that hole in the wall place down the road, and do absolutely nothing today.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

Sitting aside his sketchbook, Nicholas starts to get up, probably to go and grab his phone to place the order. But Noah doesn’t let him get far. He sets aside his coffee cup and tugs him down onto his lap.

“One more thing I want today.” Nicholas hums out a questioning noise, smiling. Noah reaches up and pushes his hair behind his ears. “Can I have a kiss?”

Leaning into him, Nicholas loops his arms around Noah’s shoulders, pressing his lips to his cheek. “As many as you want, sunshine.”

Noah pulls his mouth to his, deciding to take him up on that offer. Lunch can wait.

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@deathblacksmoke @ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @baddestomens

@rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier @dominuslunae @malice-ov-mercy

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

[friendlylocalwhumper]

Wavy hair dangling and tickling their cheeks, brown eyes wide, freckles stark against paling cheeks, Quinn struggles to take in the sight before them. One hundred and twenty stories up in a massive tower in the city, the firm grip of a furious businessman at the back of their neck to pin them bent over the guardrail on this rooftop. If they fell from this height… well, they need to make sure they don’t fall.

The cars driving down below look like little toys. The streetlights and headlights make up a stunning array, a swarming pattern that will only be extinguished when the sun rises again. Will Quinn be around to see that sunrise? The man behind them shoves down harder so they’re dangling at a sharper angle, startling a sharp cry out of the young spy. Their fingers are wrapped tightly around the railing.

“You’re a liar,” Growls the man. Pearce, his name is. “You just wanted to skim off the top, make a quick buck. Ruin my portfolio. Ruin my life.”

Quinn is in nice slacks, a white dress shirt, shiny shoes. Those shoes are scuffed now from struggling against being shoved to the edge of the rooftop. Their shirt is bloody from the initial punch to the face that they took as soon as he figured out their scheme. Quinn licks their busted lip and tries not to let their mind drift away to escape this situation; they blink at the constellation of city lights as their mind works frantically.

“It’s just a job, Pearce. Just a - a corporate spy thing, just a paycheck, it wasn’t meant to ruin you. You would’ve made that money back easy by the next quarter. Just a, a setback - wait, wait!” Their hands fly off the guardrail and smack against the cold metal-stone exterior of the building. He’s gripping them by the hips and holding them more than halfway off the ledge, now. Suddenly their breaths are coming out as sharp, quick whimpers. This is happening. They could die. Does he have a good enough grip on them? Will they hear him make a sound of surprise as his hold slips before they plummet to their death?

“Just a setback? Five million? I should kill you with my bare hands. You’ll be lucky if I just let you fall, let it be quick.”

Okay, he’s more than angry. He’s hurt. Quinn runs through all their mental notes of him, every piece of information they’ve gleaned in the past two months.

“You - please, wait!” He’s on the verge of just letting go. They have to regain his attention and interest. “You don’t have to kill me. I can get your money back! I can - I can help you get twice as much from them!”

His grip tightens. They imagine that his mouth is forming a straight line as he does the mental math. “Like a double agent?”

Their vision is swimming, the lights are going blurry. A heavy tear falls finally from their lashes like a single raindrop heralding a storm. Will someone down below feel that raindrop and know that someone up here is begging for their life? “Yes. A double agent. I like you, Pearce, I didn’t want to scam you, I can make it up to you. I’ll get you-”

“Ten million.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll get you ten million. And I’ll tell you who they are, you can get your own revenge.”

A jolt forward. Quinn screams in shrill panic, their sweaty palms slipping further down the edifice of the building. Low-hanging clouds dampen the surface with droplets, and they’re sure it’ll be the reason they slip too far and fall.

“Maybe I want revenge,” He grants, not sounding all too keen to take them up on the offer. “Maybe I just want you to pay. I gave you my clients' information. I invited you into my home. I told you about - fucking told you about…”

“Loni.” Quinn’s toes are just barely scraping the roof. Their chest is tight with terror, blood pounding in their ears. “You told me about Loni. And I told you I lost someone, too. Right? I lost someone. I lost my best friends. Let me tell you about them, Zack. Let me tell you the truth.”

They’re still dangling. Quinn can see their own warped, foggy reflection in the metal inches from their face. Tears drip over their brows and down their forehead.

“…Are you crying?”

A humiliated, ragged sob. The spy squeezes their eyes shut after one more frightened look down at the street below. “Yes.”

Is he going to let go? They’ll be dead. They’ll die, they’re going to die… he holds on tighter, shifts them against the guardrail, and at the movement, the spy weeps openly, pushing as hard against the building as they can without propping themself too far out and causing tension he can’t uphold. Their arms quake, breaths choppy.

One haul backwards. Quinn’s eyes fly open. The lights beneath are still beautiful, a lot of them red instead of white now as a traffic jam starts up. The swarming movement slows in big swathes along the highways.

Another haul. The rail presses uncomfortably into their stomach, then against their ribs. They wheeze frantically, scrabbling against the front of the building, then the edge, then the rail itself. He’s pulled them up, and now he tosses them back to crumple at his feet.

“I thought you looked young at the pub.” He’s standing over them, looking more weathered and pensive than they’ve ever seen him. "How old are you really?”

What? Quinn wipes the tears from their forehead and cheeks with the side of one hand. They have to try twice before they can quell the shaking enough to not miss. Star-like pinpricks of light are floating in their vision in an echo of the sight off the edge of the roof. They told him they were twenty-two in the interview, and no one at the pub carded them. Why does it matter now? Because they lied? A sniffle, then they answer, “Nineteen.”

Zackary Pearce lowers down on his haunches, staring at them. “I thought you sounded like a kid, crying like that.”

It doesn’t sound quite like he means to tease, but Quinn flushes with anger anyway. They avert their eyes, fully aware that he could very well still be about to kill them. His company has allowed kids to die to protect their bottom line.

He reaches out to grab them by the collar. The spy bites the inside of their cheek and looks him in the eye once more.

“If you ever show your face here again, or anywhere near my home, I won’t stop halfway through. You’re going headfirst off of a roof next time. So don’t let there be a next time.”

They can live? He’s letting them live? Quinn’s head bobs with eager nodding. “I understand. Zack, I… thank you. I’m sorry.”

He shoves them away with disgust and stands to watch them scramble backward and up onto their feet. Stands still to show he won’t attack again, while they bolt for the roof access door and down the stairs. Answers a text about the running assistant in the lobby with a curt, Let them pass. But never let them in the front door again.

From his view up on the roof, he watches the tiny spy down below running through a sparse crowd of pedestrians, slowing occasionally to look casual, probably panting from their mad dash. A teenager who screwed them out of millions and cried instead of defending themself when they were seconds from death. That’s not someone he ever wants to see again, not even to get his money back.

[crimsonwolfie]

A Love Like In The Movies - Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Prompt: You (the reader) have had a crush on Stiles, your best friend, since forever. Only...he likes the popular girl, Lydia...or so you thought.

Warnings: tinges of sadness, loneliness and a hint of heartbreak...but a ton of fluff :)

Word count: 3,071

masterlist

You tug at your bag, shoving about 3 books in at once in an attempt to be out of class as soon as the bell rings. Walking with your head down and hands clasping your bag up, you harshly bump into the new kid Henry, knocking him to the floor along with all his books and your papers....clearly you never remembered why your nickname was ‘Wobbly Whittmore’.

“Oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” You utter with one hand on your mouth and the other helping him up off the floor. He stares up at you with a dazed look and a small smirk, watching you help scramble up his papers and books.

“It’s chill, don’t worry”

You look up at him with a shy smile, clearly embarrassed for your clumsiness. “It’s not, honestly i’m so sorry. You haven’t even been here for a week and already you’ve been practically beaten up..” you shake your head “that usually happens at least 3 months in” you wink at him, laughing lightly. Henry laughs back whilst collecting more papers from the floor.

As you both sigh, your hands collide briefly. It was just for a moment...but it made you feel something. At first it was shock, but then something you’ve wanted to feel for so long...just with someone else...Stiles. Henry’s eyes dart up at you, his cheeks heating up slightly.

“I...sorry i should get going” he quickly adverts his gaze and gets up, picking up what’s in his hands “how many people can say they’ve encountered the nice Whittmore in their first week, huh?”

“Oh god you know about my brother already?” you huff, handing him his books “Some friendly advice since you’re obviously a decent guy...stay far away from him.” You laugh, once again feeling embarrassed for being related to...well...Jackson.

“Yeah he has a...well...a reputation so to speak. Thanks again, see you around, Y/N”

“Later Henry!”

Walking through the halls you can’t help but think of Stiles. He’s adorable, cute, beautiful, funny, smart, geeky but in the best way, kind, gentle...the list quite literally goes on forever. But in all the time you’ve known him...he’s always liked Lydia. The girl who your brother used to date. Since they broke up, Stiles has never been so smitten. Sure, she’s gorgeous and actually really nice...but she’s who he likes...she’s not you. I mean, you never know...he could like you. You’ve never actually mentioned it to him. But then if you do, and he turns you down, you’d be crushed... completely!

“Hey Y/N!” Stiles appears from around the corner of the lockers, making you jump a little.

“Jesus Stiles, don’t do that!” You hiss as you hold your hand over your heart. He throws his head back giggling. ‘God how cute he looks when he’s happy’ the little voice in your head says.

“You up for a movie marathon after school? I got your favourites...” he moves closer

“Harry Potter?!” You squeal, clapping your hands together 

“Only the best for the best” he smiles with all teeth showing. You silently fist pump the air as he holds his hand out for you to high five him, which you do. Your hands hover in the air, skin hot to the touch, until he breaks apart and places his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll go and find Scott and ask if he’s in. Knowing him, he’ll want to bring Allison and with Allison comes...”

“Lydia” you sigh

“Yes! She’s just so brilliant, isn’t she?” Stiles hummed, his face cheeky and merry like a child eating ice cream. You tried to hide the hurt with a faint smile, because seeing Stiles so happy just warmed your heart. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin it.

“What’s up Y/N/N?” Stiles’ smile faded into a frown, concern painted across his perfectly honeyed eyes. Seeing this, you can practically feel your heart drop.

You fiddle with the rings on your fingers as your soft Y/H/C hair slips in front of your face. “What? No...nothing. Rough day that’s all-”

“HEY Y/N” You look up to see Henry running towards you with one arm stretched out towards you, the other holding his bag strap. “You left this, when we spoke earlier” he hands you a pile of papers, all with your name on.

“Oh, my god...I’d be totally screwed if I didn’t have this for tomorrow’s math class. I’m so sorry. They must have got mixed up with your papers” you take the papers out of his hand and shove them into your bag, smiling shyly at both boys staring at you. “Thanks Henry, you saved my math grade” you laugh, causing Henry to blush and bite his lip ever so subtly, placing his hand on your arm and squeezing it playfully.

“No worries, Y/N. I’ll see you around” he winks at you, earning a frown from Stiles. 

“Who’s that geezer?” He remarks, his face furrowed with a mix of both dislike and anger. Little did you know, Stiles didn't like seeing other guys flirt with you. He began to feel this deep pit in his stomach, his blood beginning to boil. 

You turn to face Stiles, pushing your hair back behind your ear. Sheepishly you pat him on the shoulder “i’ll see you at 3? Parking lot?”

“Yeah, sure.” He replies hesitantly, fidgeting with the rim of his flannel. You notice something’s got him wound up but decide it’s probably just him nervous to spend time with Lydia and continue to walk down the hall, making your way to health class.

━━━━━━━━

All throughout the rest of your classes for the day, you just felt empty. Nothing but heartbreak, emptiness, loneliness. Thoughts of him and Lydia snuggling up in blankets whilst eating popcorn and watching the movie kept bubbling around your brain. You tried to snap out of it, but nothing would work. You thought about just cancelling on the meet after school, knowing it would be way less painful. ‘They probably wouldn’t even notice I'm gone’ you thought. Your mind was like a prison that you couldn't escape...

“this must have been what Sirius Black felt like for 12 years” you mutter under your breath, not caring who heard. Sounds of faint chattering, pencils scribbling and the monotone voice of Mrs Rawlings can be heard around you, but none of it distracts your train of thoughts. Just begging for some sort of peace, you crash your head into your arms on the table.

“Hey, Y/N” you felt a gentle nudge on your forearm and look up to see Scott staring down at you, his hand on your arm. “What’s up with you dude? And who’s Sirius Black?”

You sigh with an overly dramatic eye roll, unwillingly plucking up enough strength to say once again that you’re ‘fine just a bit tired that’s all’...

“Tired.” is all you can spit out before shoving your head back into your arms. Little did you know, Scott could sense what you were feeling...I mean you didn't lie - he sensed tiredness...just mentally. Along with hurt, pain and loneliness.

“You sure? Well maybe after school you’ll feel better. Say, d’you reckon Allison likes...I don’t know...flowers? I... I was going to get her a bunch before I pick her up to go to Stiles’” You felt your tears drop into your sleeves, soaking both your jumper and your face as Scott continued. “Do girls like flowers? I’d ask Lydia but I'm closer with yo...”

“Yeah flowers whatever.” you mutter without lifting your head up. Scott scrunched his face, his brows furrowing. Usually, you were so much more supportive and excited for him - heck you were even more excited than him when you found out about him and Allison! You guys always told each other everything. ‘Something is definitely going on’ he thought to himself. He decided it was best to not say much more right now since he was already on a report in Mrs Rawlings’ class.

Just as Scott was about to hand you a note in class, the final bell rang. Instantly you popped up and grabbed your books, practically sprinting out of the door. Scott tried to stop you, but was called behind class by the teacher. You knew he was going to follow you, that's why you ran. No matter what, he couldn't see you like this, otherwise he wouldn’t drop it and would demand to know who hurt you - how could you tell him it was his own best friend?! As you’re jogging, you bump into the one person you wanted to avoid...

“Woah, slow down there cowgirl” Stiles holds your shoulders with his hands, his grip firm and comforting. He takes one look at you and notices your wet, blotchy eyes. You hang your head low in an attempt to hide your face from him...clearly it doesn't work.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s up? Who hurt you?! his smile fades drastically upon seeing the state you were in. Obviously you weren't going to tell him, so you just decide to make up something...

“I failed my health class for the semester”

“Y/N it’s not the end of the world, you can always retake!” he sighs

You turn over to him with your hands in the air, shaking your head. “No you don’t un...you know what, Stiles? I can’t come over later. I’m sorry.” 

He steps back in surprise, both hands leaving your shoulders and grabbing his bag straps around his arms. Suddenly, you feel angry at him...though you instantly regret snapping at him. “i...I’m sorry” is all you can stutter as you run out the door, leaving Stiles standing there wondering what he did wrong, for what felt like hours, until Scott saw him.

“dude what're you doing? We got a marathon to start” he smacks Stiles on the back full pelt, leaving Stiles to stumble a bit.

“Have you spoken to Y/N today?” he asks, his voice trembly, quiet.

“Of course I have. Why, haven’t you?” The alpha replies

“No I have, it’s just...she was upset and i tried to help but she just...” he trails off   as Scott steps closer, Stiles’ eyes dull.

“She just what?” he asks, his voice calm and gentle

“She said she failed health class...”

“Wait, no that's not true - I got pulled behind class today because Mrs Rowlings wants me to have a tutor for health class and suggested Y/N since she’s acing everything!?” Scott explained. Stiles jerked his head, brows furrowing once again.

“Wait what?” his hand flew to his forehead as he leaned against the lockers beside him. “She snapped at me. I think I did something, Scotty...but I don’t know what. She’s been distant for a while now ever since Jackson and Lydia broke up, and I mean I know that her brother hates us but I just didn't think Y/N would choose her brother over us or me and i...”

“Stiles, stop.” Scott grabs both of Stiles’ shoulders and makes direct eye contact with him. “Listen, okay? I think I know what’s up”

“You do?” Stiles’ eyes brightened insantly. He knew something was wrong with his best friend and he knew he would do anything to fix that.

“She likes you, dude. Really likes you. And I thought you would have figured that out by now...she’s always doodling your name in class and covers it whenever someone passes by. Plus, she talks about you all the time.” Scott understood why you had been distant, and he didn’t blame you.

Stiles’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of red as a smile began appearing. His heart started pounding quicker than Quicksilver in the X-Men films, butterflies swarming around his stomach and ribcage. “Seriously? Then why is she distancing herself from me?”

“Because she still thinks you’re in love with Lydia...her heartbeat quickens when she’s with you, or when you guys touch in some way” Scott’s tone becomes more serious, which is unusual for Scott. Typically, he’s always goofy around Stiles so clearly he meant what he was about to say next... “But when you’re with Lydia, her mood changes. I can sense it...It’s sort of sad, lonely...” his face melts just thinking of all the times he’s felt that same pain. “You gotta tell her how you feel, Stiles. Tonight.”

“But I can’t...she’s not coming!” Stiles replies with a croaky voice.

“Then you go to her!” Scott replies, his eyes wide with hope and his hands pressing on Stiles’ back, pushing him towards the door “go now, dude!” Stiles picks up his pace and jogs to the door, one hand gripping his bag strap and the other fiddling with his keys in his pocket. “And let me know how it goes” Scott shouts as Stiles leaves the building.

━━━━━━━━

As you reach your front door, you feel a tear trickle down your cheek. All you could think of was Stiles. How he would, at this moment, be snuggling and giggling with Lydia. You have nothing against her, in fact you are actually really fond of her, but it breaks your heart to know you aren't the one who can make the boy you love, fall for you. A pain runs through your chest as you slam the door shut, your breathing wheezing. Leaning against the door, you slide down...completely breaking down.

“Why doesn’t he look at me that way?” you mutter to yourself, head in arms as your cheeks soak into your sleeves. “All I've ever done is try and make him happy, try and make him realise how incredible he is...and he still doesn't see me the same way”

Nose sniffling, eyes red, head fuzzy, hands shaking and top wet...you get up. ‘You did the best thing. It was the right decision to stay home’ you think, knowing it would have just ruined your friendship if you told him how you felt. And anyway, you wanted him to be happy. And clearly, that wasn't with you...

You ran upstairs and changed into a comfy pair of joggers and an oversized top, chucking your slippers on and grabbing a blanket before heading back downstairs. If you couldn't join their movie night - you’d have your own! 

Snacks and a drink were sitting on the table beside you on the sofa, with the television on ready and curtains closed. Just as you had got yourself in a comfy position, the doorbell rang. You grunted, kicking the blanket off your legs and dragging yourself towards the front door. Opening it, you felt your breath escape you. It was Stiles, standing at the door, with a bouquet of beautiful flowers in his hands. His hair was messy as if he’d run his fingers through it a thousand times, his cheeks were flushed brighter and pinker than bubblegum, looking as if he was out of breath from rushing somewhere. You go to say something, but before you had the chance, Stiles speaks, “Hi! I uh....I didn’t know whether you were mad at me or whether you were just having a rough day but it seemed like you were mad at me so I wanted to see if you were okay and uh...I got you these” His arms stretched to give you the flowers, his face ridden with nerves. You looked down at the flowers and then back up to Stiles’ face.

“Why would you think i was mad at you?” You questioned, brows furrowing at the confusion of what was happening. “These are gorgeous, thanks Stiles” you coo with a smile on your face, taking the flowers from Stiles’ hands. As you grab them, your hands touch Stiles’, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to flutter. Stiles’ own cheeks flushed at the touch of your hands, too.

“You seem distant with me lately. And Scott told me why...” he begins, fingers fidgeting with the rim of his checkered shirt “I like Lydia...” he trails off.

Upon hearing these words, you feel your heart drop. Mouth dry and sadness creeping into your mind, you feel clouded with emotions and thoughts. Why would Stiles come over, give you flowers and then declare his love for Lydia? “Yeah I kno...” you begin until he cuts you off,

“She’s my friend. And she’s amazing...but she doesn’t wait for me after classes. She doesn’t call me to check in once in a while. She doesn’t do anything in her power to make sure I'm happy or know I'm loved...” his beautiful brown eyes stared lovingly into yours, your heart lifting and beating faster with each sentence he says...

“She doesn’t know me, and I mean the real me...the one who suffers with anxiety, who needs a nightlight and needs constant reassurance on even the simplest things” you smirk at the mention of a nightlight because, well, you were the one who actually got it for him...because you knew he wasn't doing too good. “She is my friend, Y/N, but she isn’t my best friend. And I like her, but I don’t love her...because I love you. It’s always been you”

There’s a soft wind that blows between you both, causing you to shiver and shake with both excitement and chills. Stiles’ eyes glittered in the sunlight like an ocean surface in summer, tears welling in them. You bit your lip which trembled with an overcoming emotion of happiness as you leant forward and grabbed him, cupping his face in your soft hands and bringing your lips to his in a desperate yet passionate way. Feelings of euphoria and desire filled both of your hearts like a fire burning bright, lips moving sweetly in sync as in destined for one another. His hands wrap around your waist as you bring your hands through his hair. Nothing felt more perfect than this moment...all your worries gone and your heart fuller than ever before because the boy who holds your heart, who has held your heart for years, is finally in your arms. Stiles’ warmth radiates onto your cheeks as you smile into the kiss, earning a smile from Stiles, too. Breaking away to breathe, you both look down and giggle, hands intertwining with Stiles rubbing circles on your palm with his thumb.

You look up at him, smiling, as you speak “I...I love you too”. Stiles coos as he pulls you closer to him to break the gap now between you both, “I gathered” he laughs, kissing the top of your forehead affectionately. “So, how about that marathon?”

Hope you guys like it! x

[starshipsofstarlord]

Petal

college!sebastian stan x reader

masterlist

Summary; Your boyfriend Sebastian has been spending much time studying, hardly sparing himself a break. Finally, he sees the pros of taking one

Warnings; smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, fluff

divider by @firefly-graphics

Sebastian was to be home any minute, he had been prolifically stressed from his classes regarding his law certification, and you had decided to exhibit him a well deserved distraction that would surely take his wired brain off from the course that was practically running through his veins at this point.

It seemed that at every waking moment, he was doing something to aid his studies, and whilst that was great that he was so dedicated to passing for this insane qualification, he did need to take breaks here and there. He wasn't the only one suffering from his late nights, and his resurrection from slumber at the crack of dawn, no. You were too, you missed him, despite being in the same apartment and room as him for the majority of his spare time.

He acted as though he had no time to spare, but you were well acquainted with his schedule, especially by now. The only difference was, that he had no occupation for a moment to relax with you, or by himself. His showers took five minutes every morning and evening, it was as though he were rushing to clean himself so that he could proceed to go back to putting his nose in a book, or searching specifics online.

But tonight, you were going to cut him off. If he didn't endure a moment of mindlessness, then you were sure to go mad yourself. You were keening for his touch, all you had received in the past few weeks were chaste kisses on both your lips and forehead, as well as verbalised 'I love you's. Perhaps it was selfish, he was striving towards a great achievement in his life, and you wanted a little bit of attention, but you knew he was holding himself from any relief also.

From the minimal time that he spent under the cold stream of the showerhead, he didn't have enough time to rub one out, and there was no fear that you had of him seeing another woman. Sebastian was not like that at all, and you had the clarity of him being in the kitchen half the time, typing away on his laptop, as he ran over some old notes and updated them.

Currently, he was out, he was in his lecture. There was a span of fifteen minutes from the time that he would be on the walk home, and you knew that was exactly how long that took in your shared student apartment, because you too endured your studies. But once more, your own were pushed to the side as you speculated your appearance in the silver tapestry of your mirror.

Your hand steadied on your right hip as you posed in front of it, twisting your waist to find the most attractive angle for you in your new wear. The underwear was tight, and not to mention, completely sheer. It's see through nature made wearing it practically pointless, but considering his current frustrations, it was only fair to give something to rip off of you.

Truthfully, you had to admit, you looked damned good. There was no way he would choose studying law over ravishing your body, a spark jolted through your body as the door behind you opened, and with a seductive bite to your lip, you turned around, only to scream and cover your body with your hands, or at least to the best of your ability. "Holy fuck, don't you know how to knock?!"

"I didn't think I'd have to because your human dildo isn't here!" Anthony defended himself, having turned around, as the image of you, one of his best friends, practically in the nude, burned behind his eye balls. The fact that he had seen you made you feel sick, this was not how you had intended the afternoon to go.

"Is there a reason that you burst into my room looking for me Mackie?" The question was indeed one that you wanted to know the answer to, you still felt so exposed, although he was not looking at you. That was certainly something that you were going to avoid telling Seb, that would definitely be a big distraction from his work.

And of course, alongside that, he would have an intent to possibly murder your flat mate, and whilst Chris would be laughing at that, there would be a heavy hotness to your face, as you watched them immaturely battle. Anthony cleared his throat thoroughly, directing towards the face that he was about to speak.

"Definitely not to see you like that." Retorted the math major, shrugging the shiver off his shiver as the memory tormented him once more. "But... me and Chris were going to meet with Scarlett, Takia and Brie, we were going to see if you and Seabass wanted to join, but as I saw against my own will, you have something already planned for your dinner."

“Um yeah, no, we’ll pass. Thanks tho buddy.” Oh god, to say you felt awkward was an understatement. If you were wearing clothes, or at least more socially appropriate ones, you’d go to him and give him a typical punch on the shoulder. Though, if you were clothed more body wear, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Only things like this happened in college flats, that was one thing that could be confirmed.

“Okay then. Good to know...” Anthony closed the door and proceeded to enter the kitchen. He went grab himself an apple, and realised then that it was an unfortunate consequence, but he had lost his appetite. There had been nothing wrong with your appearance - nothing at all - but you were his flat mate and friend! And, you had a boyfriend, whom was also a great reference of social interaction for him.

The sound of keys interlocking with the outside of the door echoed through the kitchen, someone was outside, and he’d be write in assuming that it was Sebastian. Chris was presently occupied by scouring the internet for ways to surprise the girl he was currently hanging with, and honestly by that, Anthony was scared to enter his room.

It could have been anything that he was searching, but to his contrasting luck, the last resident of their flat entered, creases firm on his brow, from thinking too hard. Sebastian was mulling over the lecture that his professor had given his class. Remember to take a break every now and then. Maybe he was right, a break couldn't postpone him from graduating him that much, could it.

Perhaps he was putting it all off, because after receiving his degree, the four of you would have to find somewhere else to live, and a part of Seb was inclined to ask you individually to move in with him. A one bedroom apartment would be cheaper than one with three rooms, and atop of that, he wouldn't have to be cautious of minor things like walking around the flat in little to no clothing, or fucking you on the kitchen counter.

They were all coupley things that he had wishes to do, but because there were another two men residing with you and him, albeit them being your friends, he didn't allow you to do so in anything less than one of his shirts that cascaded down your thighs, so that if you weren't wearing panties, everything would be concealed. Anthony gulped, remembering he had seen you in your surprise for this man, and gosh, did he want to keep quiet about his accidental peek.

Sebastian wasn’t the jealous type, it was rather refreshing how he found that to be an unappealing trait, however, it would still not settle well that someone saw his girl, in a compromising choice of wear that was supposed to be for his eyes only. He would surely make it clear that you were his, and thus the fucking in the kitchen that he dreamt about would be more than likely to unfold, as he rammed you against the cupboards, caring not if guests were due.

“Hey.” It was a breath of fresh air to speak to someone who was not on his course, it was as though he had become estranged from the people closest to him during this part of the term. Thus a striking pang of guilt landed in his chest as he wondered how you must have felt. He hadn’t touched you in any intimate sense in weeks, it certainly felt like years.

That truth gave him no pride, he dropped his items on the counter, planning on returning to them after he had tended to greeting you. A long kiss sounded nice, strung by a chord of untwined tongues that groomed the insides of your mouth, as you reciprocated. If he was very generous to himself, he’d perhaps lay down for a moment, and allow his pianist hands to wander for more than a moment, stroking them up and down your thighs, until he gave supple attention to your sweet delicacy, dipping down to kiss it and run his fingers over the beautiful gates that only he was allowed to surpass through.

Anthony muffled a reply to him, before shuffling out the room, casting him a weird side eye, but Sebastian thought little of it as his mind was preoccupied with something other than his studies. Oh, and how he didn't mind. The mental image of your nude portrait blessing his eyes was enough motivation to have him striding at a fast, yet considerable pace, towards the door to your shared bedroom.

He knew you must have been inside, he saw your lanyard hanging on the coat rack, that was literally a makeshift piece of wood that you had drunkenly returned with one night, along with a very much intoxicated Paul Rudd. There had been construction nearby, and you thought that it was possible to turned the sharp edged plank with nails sticking out as a bedframe. Least to say, Sebastian did not allow that to happen, knowing that one morning, you would end up spiking your scalp against one of the rusted nails.

People had gotten hurt by it from where it was already, there was that time that Tessa had tried to lean on it for a photo, that in retrospect was an applicant towards your photography course, but that didn't end well, you were pretty sure there was still a streak of her blood stained into one side. That may have been why Chris had turned its weight around after that. However, none of you had the money to spare to invest in a real rack, so for now it stayed.

It sure as hell wasn't coming with you guys when you moved out, that was one thing that Sebastian was going to ensure. If Anthony wanted it, then so be it, if all went to plan, the pair of you wouldn't be living with the lovable goof when the time came. Turning the knob to the room, Sebastian heard a gasp, and thus after he shut it, he saw you wrapped up in your robe, your head cocked to the side as you seductively tried to settle on your small double bed.

"You made me jump Sebba." No, he could tell that you had been taking a short nap, as though you had wanted to forget some details from your day. And that you did, and you hoped that Anthony did as well. "Have you got much work to do bubs?" You raised yourself on your elbows and shuffled towards him as he came to sit on the side of the mattress.

"Think I'm going to take a short hiatus from it for a few hours." Now that certainly sounded pleasant, you hummed at his words, stroking his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his hand that moved cup your cheek. "Have I been neglecting my little petal?" It was a name he used whenever he was seeking forgiveness, but this time, you shook your head, frowning, as you settled a small smile on your face.

"You've been understandably busy, I get that. I'm not going to go as far as to use that word babes, you've just had a little time to yourself and your schoolwork, and that is fine." He tapped your chin, cocking his head to the side, inviting you to straddle his lap. You'd have been stupid if you refused after all the time that you had spent mentally apart from him, so without another hint, you clambered over his thighs, a giddy expression corrupting your face.

"This is why I love you. So open minded, and not to mention, that mind of yours has had me doing some thinking." Nodding in a current to prompt him to continue, his hands eased their lodging onto your bare thighs, stroking the skin with large soothing swipes, making any hair on your body stand on edge, as he averted his eyesight to the split of your gown that crisscrossed around your chest. It wasn't a sexual focus however, it was more so as though he feared a rejection of one kind.

"Hope you're not gonna propose us having a kid or something, because now is certainly not the time." At your humour, he sincerely laughed, causing a calm to wash over you and him, as he finally looked you in the face. “Unless you mean buying a plant, our last one died, and now you use the old pot to stub out your blunts." You could see the improvisational container as you turned your head to the side, seeing its white exterior be a gradient of light to shielded grey.

"I want you to move in with me." Sebastian responded straightly, bracing his slightly nervous palms to the divot of your waist, as he grasped the skin below your ribs, swirling the pads of his thumbs across your skin, caressing each nimble pore on that part of your body. His breath captured the side of your neck, as he licked a sweet line across a vein that he specifically picked out using his

"We already live together silly. Unless we're gonna move to mars." As you spoke, your brows optimistically raised, as your forearms found a home around the back of his neck, as you pressed tentative kisses to his clean jaw. A series of giggles evicted from you as you darted your tongue out to taste his sharp skin, your hand slipping down to control his own, trailing his touch beneath your gown so that the tips of his fingers were brushing the mesh of your underwear that was poised in a curve upon your hipbone.

"As much as the space nerd in me would love that, and not to mention you would make one foxy astronaut, I meant, after this, and here, we find a place for just you and me. I get if you don’t-“ you pressed your left forefinger to his lips, humming with a smile as he shared a gentle kiss upon your skin. He took the digit into his mouth, sucking the skin and swirling his tongue around the crescent of your nail.

“That sounds... perfect.” Ushering your finger from out past his lips, and the barrier of his nipping teeth, you languidly stroked his bottom lip, spreading the small extent of saliva that had coated your finger. “I’m so happy you’re taking a break Sebba, you deserve it. There’s something I want to show you baby, I know you’re going to like it.”

“Is it under this robe by any chance?” Obliging his answer with a supporting action, you allowed his hands to remain beneath the sleek material, as you untied the thick strand that tied the two sides together around your body. Pushing the dark silk from your shoulders, you revealed the design of petals that prompted through the thin material of your undergarments, everything exposed through the sultry and intimate pieces.

“Do you like it?” You seemed to have forgotten about Anthony seeing you in the internal wear, and from Sebastian’s honed gazing at your full breasts, your nipples sternly grew hard, telling him without need for word that he was silently turning you on. A sigh escaped from him, as he plucked at the seam of your panties, tugging lightly at the side to drag the material up your slit, grasping a light moan from your intimately affected lungs.

“My lovely petal, like is an understatement. You do all this for me, I don’t think I’m going to know how much this was, especially where we’re supposed to be budgeting.” Seb quirked his unbrushed brow, pressing his lips against the column of your throat, intaking the smell and pungent taste of your floral perfume. “But I’m not going to complain, because seeing you like this is certainly worth a fine penny. Is it ungrateful for me to want it off of you though?”

“Wait.” You instructed him, pressing your tongue into the divot of his chin, swiping a line of saliva through the bone structure. “I think we should get my money’s worth. First, I want to get my fill of your appreciation, and then maybe, maybe then I’ll allow you to discard piece by piece from my skin.” Your dominant hand pressed against his growing bulge as a you slid off his lap, running your nose along his thighs, as you fiddled with the purchase of his jeans, him helping you tug the denim off, and down his thick thighs.

“You’re so good to me.” He leaned back, curling his fists into the sheets, as he watched you enduringly pat him over his boxers, drawing a spot of precum to seep out onto the white cotton. “My beautiful petal, hungry for my cock, you want it, don’t you? Want to suck my hard cock, practically starving for it, ain’t ya?” Profusely nodding, you drooled as he twitched, and pushed down his underwear, revealing his uncut, and growing cock.

“Holy shit.” Escaped you as a breathy conjunction of two words, your palm reaching out to rotate his foreskin in your hand, pushing the layer back gently to reveal his hidden slit. Your tongue darted out over the flushed head, suckling on the sensitive portion, spoiling yourself with the salty taste of his aroused skin. “You have such a pretty cock baby.” Pressing a kiss along the length, you dragged your tongue up his shaft, before returning to the tip, swallowing down his cock in your throat.

“Fuck.” Your boyfriend revelled in the pleasure, one of his hands capturing your hair in its hold, running his fingers through your locks as you bobbed your head. Gargled sounds choked out from your easing throat, as you continued your administrations, making Seb squeeze his eyes shut, as he endured the pleasure that you pledged him with. “Baby...”

You moaned around his cock, your glazed irises peeking up at him, before pulling off, a strand of saliva connecting you to his hung length. “Say it.” Was his demand as his hand pressed the cheeks of your face together, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pout. It was a notion of past experiences that reminded you of what he was speaking of, you blinked your lashes innocently towards him, steadily breathing through your nose as he patiently awaited for you to carry out his order.

“I’m your cockslut.” You mumbled out, spit pooling out of your mouth and rolling down the cleavage of your lips, descending onto your chin, and slipping to be a river down your chest, playing hide and seek in the cups of your sheer bra. “Love your fat cock, and your large balls, and the way your mouth exhibits complete bliss over my pussy.” He tilted your head to the side, as he leaned down, his spare hand reaching behind you to remove your bra, leaving it hanging loosely off from your shoulders.

“How about I eat your cunt, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you petal?” A whine slipped from your lips as you shouldered off the floral laced bra, discarding it on the bedroom floor, as you waded your legs about so that you could do the same with the slim lined panties. “Come on then, get up on the bed pretty girl, let me at that pussy.” Doing as he said, you clambered onto the mattress, your front against the sheets as you tried to position yourself. A slap rumbled off your ass cheek, as Sebastian struck down on the globe of fat, straggling a surprised moan from your lips.

It seemed like he wanted you to remain on your stomach, and so you did as he breathed a swab of cool air upon your clenching lips, swiping his tongue from your heavy clit to your soaking entrance. “Sebs, do something, please.” You collapsed your face into the bed, wiggling your ass towards his face, earning yourself another spank to your behind. It stung, but it was a hot heat that granted you a minor bit of relief; it was certainly better than nothing.

And then, his tongue probed at your entrance, test tasting your cunt as his muscle flicked deliriously over your clit, his forefinger prying at your slit, and slipping without struggle inside of your walls, evoking a withering moan to collapse out from your chest. Another digit slunk through your folds, filling your further, as his pace increased, his mouth surrounding your clit, and rolling the bud around with his instigating tongue. “Petal, pass me the lube.”

With a light head, you blindly reached your hand across to on top of his bedside table, locating the bottle with your fiddling hands, tossing it back towards him. A thump indicates that it did not land on the mattress as planned, instead the container of lubricant hit him in the forehead. A frown covered his face as he shook his head, removing his fingers from your folds, as he grasped the bottle, splurging some of the clear and slippery liquid onto his fingertips.

Seb spread it around his fingers, rubbing it onto his skin, as he applied a little onto your tight hole, prying at your puckered entrance with his lubricated digits. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You gently rubbed your face against the sheets as Sebastian entered his fingers into your ass, quickly thrusting them in and out of you. “Feels so good Sebby, shit.” He continued his administrations with a clenched wrist, evicting pleasure upon you as you practically sobbed onto your shared bed. “No, no-“

He removed his fingers, as well as his own shirt that was still covering his chest. Seb clambered off the bed for a moment, locating a condom, as he gave his cock a couple of jerks, rolling the avast protection onto his length, as he positioned himself on his knees behind you. He entered you swiftly, returning his fingers back into your tighter hole, as he began to thrust into both of your entrances. Sounds of pleasure were compelled out from your lungs, as you half screamed his name; there were tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as you endured wafts pleasure from both intimate angles.

He curled his fingers within you, picking up his pace as his hips profusely clashed against your own. He was chasing a high, whilst simultaneously reducing you to nothing but a racer to your own. “So fucking tight; in both holes.” His teeth clenched as he moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching harshly around him, as he filled the condom with his white and warm seed. He remained inside of you as he brought one hand down to your cunt, playing with your clit, as he sternly thrusted his fingers into your ass.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, cumming around his softened cock, and mewling into your own wrist. Sebastian extracted his tender cock from within you, also removing his fingers, as he swiped off the condom, tying to open side so that no cum would spill out, and then discarding it in the bin. “Shit, I was wanting some attention from you, but I didn’t know I was going to get that.” You laughed lightly, feeling a little hazy and drunk from your numbing orgasm.

In turn, your boyfriend laughed too, grabbing his shirt from off the ground, and lightly pulling you up, helping you into the baggy material. He pressed a sweet kiss upon your forehead as he rolled to be laid beside you, bringing your sweaty body into his matching side, watching through appeased lids at how you curled yourself into him. “I love you darling.”

“I love you too Seb.” You replied, pressing a kiss to his soft nipple, as his arms locked adoringly around you. “And I’m so proud of you for putting your all into your course.” Your nails stroked down his stomach, as the two of you laid upon the sheets, rather than underneath them.

“Of course I would, it’s for our future in the long term of things.” He stated, brushing any loose strands of hair out from your face. “But I guess it’s okay to take a break sometimes. And that, well that was certainly worth the time away from studying, it always is with you.”

[ronnie-azumane]

Haikyuu guys as stuff my dad did

This idea has been in my brain for a while, so I'm writing it out. Hope y'all enjoy :)

CW: idn, its pretty wholesome

Daichi answers your frantic phone call home expressing that you forgot your backpack and laptop for college when you went home over the weekend. Expressing that all of your notes are in the backpack, he decides to wake-up extra early Monday morning and make the 2 1/2 hour drive to your university, then drive all the way back to your hometown to go to work.

Sugawara came up with the best hiding spot for you while playing hide and seek at your 7th birthday party. He squeezed you in-between the back of the couch and the back couch cushions. Then, he sat in front of it to conceal the awkward lump it made in the couch. It took the others 30 minutes before giving up and telling you to come out.

Asahi asks you to style his hair for a zoom meeting he has later that day. After some deliberation, you both decide to do a mohawk style. He braces himself as you run off to get the brush, hairspray, hair gel, and hairdryer.

Nishinoya still wears the Annoying Orange shirt you got him when you were in 3rd grade. It's faded and has a giant picture of Annoying Orange on it, which faded from popularity in 2010, but he still wears it. In public.

Tanaka makes the dumbest jokes while in the audience of your colorguard/dance competitions. For example, he asked your mom if he should shout "Go get 'em George" to the group of girls performing to confuse everyone. Another favorite joke o his is to chant "the worm, the worm,, we worship the worm" while the previous team is carrying out their floor.

Ennoshida talks with you as you make one of the biggest changes in your life. Midway through your second semester at university, you determine that business is not for you, however, you do not have a backup plan. Talking with him, you end up changing your major to Geography, and now you love every second of it.

Kageyama drinks the milk out of you cereal. You hate the taste of milk by itself, but you don't want to eat dry cereal. To not waste milk, he drinks it after you finish eating your cereal.

Hinata fails miserably when your mom tells him to reapply the medical glue on your forehead. The day before, your sister threw a wooden block at you, causing a major tear in your head. Your mom took you to the emergency room, but they were busy and it was a school night, so they told her to just take some liquid band aid (which we called glue) and close the wound. Your mom told him to replace the glue, and he took ELMERS GLUE and placed it on the open wound. It hurt like a bitch.

Tsukishima takes you to go see the museum of natural history once a month. He knows you're the odd girl out of your class that would rather play with dinosaurs than dolls, so he takes you to see the dinosaur fossils. He also gets a discount because his place of work donated a significant amount of money and resources to one of the exhibits.

Yamaguchi helped set up your setup once you moved to zoom university. He attached your laptop to a monitor his job had extra, so now you feel like a badass whenever you use the two screens.

Oikawa out of nowhere invites all his high school friends over to stay the week at your house. A trip that probably should have been planned in weeks, even months, is planned in just a weekend. Everyone ends up sleeping on air mattresses and blankets on the floor due to your mom just finishing up replacing the floors in the house (she was not too happy with the sudden trip, but was welcoming anyway)

Iwaizumi makes you watch Godzilla with him whenever it's on TV. Some of his fondest memories include receiving Godzilla themed ornaments from his mom ever Christmas. He also unironically watches those cheesy fan-made Godzilla fights on YouTube for hours on end. Man just likes Godzilla.

Hanamaki and you wear funny hats to a volunteer cookout. The organizers told every one to wear a hat so that their hair didn't get in the food, but you two take it a step further. You wear a banana hat while he wears a hotdog hat.

Matsukawa taught you how to make all kinds of breakfast food at a young age. Whether it was a simple as a fried egg or as complex as French toast, he worked with you until the recipe came out perfect.

Kyotani scares the other parents off when it comes to the silent auction selling the class are projects. Now the shelf you and your kindergarten classmates fingerprinted flowers and bugs on sits proudly in your closet holding crafting supplies.

Ushijima scolds you for leaving the lights on. Most parents do that already, but he takes it to a new extreme. Your mom explains that he would never turn the lights on in his apartment when he was in college and would simply get his homework done before dark. Sometimes, if he had something to do, he would light a candle to finish something up.

Tendou recalls a story in which he stole a bus battery with his buddies to power an air conditioned tent at boy scout camp. He also recalls the year he and his friends tried to build a pool in the wilderness at the same count, only to get caught and reprimanded for it before filling it with water which totally had nothing to do with a camp counselor finding it and having a Vietnam flashback

Goshiki watches anime with you. He always acts like he is uninterested in whatever show is on, but he soon gets super into it and it will be the only thing he talks about for a week.

Kuroo sits at the table with you until 2am working on that math assignment you have been struggling with. You've definitely run out of tears to cry, and had to redo the assignment twice, but he is guiding you through the answers

Yaku isn't a fan of all the pets you and your mom have collected over the years. I mean, in his defense, at one point we had 8 cats an 3 dogs. However, he is also super cuddly with them, always giving them nose boops and belly rubs.

Kenma plays Xbox, Wii, and the ds with you. He doesn't find the bulk of the games you play with him entertaining, but he is willing to run through LEGO Star Wars with you. His personal favorite to play is Mario Kart and he doesn't let you win >:(

Lev is trying to convince the family to let him take the position in Alaska with higher pay. When mom raised the concern that the long winters wouldn't do well for your mental health, his counter argument was, "Yeah, and that sucks, but hear me out. We could have a pet Polar Bear." We didn't move to Alaska

Bokuto was definitely the most enthusiastic dad at the girl scout father daughter dance. He twirled you around in your pretty little JC Penney dress and made sure you two were the center of the dance floor. At one point, he lifted you above his head with each foot in a hand like a cheerleader. Truly terrifying.

Akaashi drives out to the 24-hour pharmacy to pick up some cold medicine when you couldn't sleep due to a stuffy nose. He also checks up on you every hour when you are coughing with some mysterious disease (due to the lack of tests and priority of the high-risk, I will never know if I had Covid when I got sick in late March)

Aone gives you the biggest hug after you get released from the graduation ceremony. He isn't the best with words, so this hug speaks so much to you.

Terushima has been taking you to Mardi Gras in New Orleans since you were a baby. He doesn't care that it's mostly an adult party, he believes that everyone in the family should enjoy a good ol' Mardi Gras

Atsumu carries you on his shoulders all the time when you're small. He just thinks it's the cutest thing.

Osamu makes sure to host a crawfish boil every year. Whether its the neighbors, family, both, or just the household, you can expect some good, spicy crawfish with corn and potatoes whenever he cooks.

Kita teaches you how to drive a stick shift. He's frustrated that you cant move three feet before stalling, but then realizes that the issue was that you were in third gear, not first. He is now impressed that you were even able to start moving at third gear.

Sakusa takes you along with him to work. His job is full of tough men, so when they see him with you in a little blue dress-up tutu and a plastic tiara on your head, their hearts just melt.

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Lovedust Pt.3 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N catches the eye of one of her male classmates who invites her to an upcoming party. As she weighs her options, Peter takes her out for a treat but old history comes back up. 

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: I hope everyone is safe during this crazy time. Remember: Wear a mask, wash your hands, and only leave your house for necessities! You can literally stay at home and read fanfiction all day and you would be saving lives! I introduced a new male character and I’ll be real, Joshua Bassett needs to be appreciated so I put him in! However, for the character Josh you can think of any celeb or crush you have if you want! 

Warnings: Adult language, mentions of sex

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || 

part seven || part eight || epilogue

When Monday rolled around, all you wanted to do was stay home. You felt that there was too much going on to just go on autopilot for eight hours at school when all you could think about was how to fix Peter.

While you had decided that you would at least be nice to him, there was still a small part of you that was worried about what would happen if he never got better. 

How much of your relationship would change and worst of all, what would happen to his ‘superhero’ duties?

If you were really the only thing running through his mind, how would he even function saving lives?

As much as you wanted to sit and worry about him, you knew you needed to get your own life together before you started fixing other people like going to school.

You went to college-prep academy which really just meant that everyone had to wear uniforms to kill all individualistic forms of expression and pay ridiculous tuition to learn. 

You really didn’t mind since most of your classes were ridiculously easy but a lot of your classmates were spoiled monsters who liked to flaunt their rich last name.

Lucky for you, Stark was pretty hard to beat.

Once you slipped your blazer on, you grabbed the straps of your backpack and walked out into the kitchen to pack your lunch where Peter was already awake, making breakfast.

Usually, by this time, Peter would already be on his way to school on the subway but your dad and Banner thought it would be best for him to stay at the complex so they could run more tests on him.

Peter took his attention off of the stove and drew his eyes towards you, his face already flushed red as he tried not to stare below your skirt,” Y/N! You look really pretty in your uh- uniform.”

At this point, you knew that whatever words that came out of Peter’s mouth wasn’t his fault so you decided to roll with it. You were so used to him always giving you snarky replies about your school uniform but now, you didn’t have to waste your energy thinking of a comeback.

You hummed as you leaned over the kitchen island to grab a piece of bacon that was off to the side,” And you look really pretty in your pajamas Parker. How are you holding up? Are they getting any closer into figuring out how to stop your chest pains?”

Ever since Peter first made contact with the lovedust, he had been complaining about how tight his chest was feeling. It seemed like a normal side effect since it would happen whenever you were close to him but as days passed, his chest started to hurt more every time you weren’t around.

You felt guilty knowing that you going to school would literally cause him pain but at the same time, you couldn’t adjust your whole life around Peter.

Peter shook his head as he swallowed hard,” No not yet but I’m sure they’ll figure out something soon... I packed your lunch by the way. It’s over there by the sink.”

You looked over towards the sink and sure enough, your lunch bag that you hadn’t used since freshman year was neatly packed. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your school had really good chicken pesto on Mondays so you gladly looked through the lunch bag to see what was inside.

As you looked through it, you could see a white piece of lined paper folded and taped against a small packet of Oreos. Peter noticed that you had found the note and this time, his face grew redder.

“ You can throw it away if you want, I thought it would be nice or whatever,” Peter said quietly as he walked over to where you were standing.

He reached for your lunch bag but you tensed up, pulling it towards your chest,” Aw, come on Parker, please? Technically, this note is like mail and you know it’s a federal crime to tamper with it.”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek and nodded as he rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs. You had never seen Peter ever this flustered before and a part of you felt guilty that you were the reason he was so nervous but a part of you liked the attention.

You had to remind yourself that once Peter was cured, it gave him free rein to possibly be the same dick as before. At least for now, you liked being friends with Peter.

“ I gotta go now but I’ll see you after school,” You finally said as you put your backpack on and walked over to the elevator,” try not to die or anything.”

“ I’ll do my best, have a good day,” Peter smiled as he suddenly remembered something,” oh, make sure you bring an umbrella, it’s supposed to rain today.”

You checked your phone to look at the weather for the afternoon but saw that it was supposed to be bright and sunny all day,” I’m sure it’ll be fine, bye Parker.”

Once you made it all the way downstairs to the main entrance, you looked behind your shoulder to make sure no one was behind you before rummaging through your lunch bag. You took out the note Peter had written to you and even though you didn’t even open it yet, you already felt your stomach twisting and turning.

You had a feeling it would be him saying how pretty you looked or how much he loved you since he was under his lovey trance but when you opened up the note, you felt yourself smile.

Thank you for not being weird about everything that’s going on. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. P.S I love it when you call me Parker

                                                      -------

School dragged on and on and by the time the last bell had rung, you felt like you were on the verge of dropping out.

Any of your STEM classes weren’t as interesting or as challenging to you anymore, especially since you had a whole floor in your own house that was just laboratories filled with people who have actually won Nobel Prizes.  

Once you left class, you made your way straight to your locker and put your math textbook into your backpack. When you shut your locker, you looked up to see your friend Kim holding up her phone towards your face.

“ Hello to you too, what am I looking at?” You asked as you took her phone to get a better look at the screen,” is this a Snapchat invitation?”

“ Good, you can read,” Kim teased as she adjusted the straps of her backpack,” Amber is throwing a party on Saturday and we have to go!”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you handed the phone back to her. You didn’t hate parties but you much rather preferred smaller functions with all of your friends than a room filled with total strangers your age.

“ I thought we hated Amber and I’m pretty sure she hates us. She literally called you rat face when you were doing your presentation and you pushed her into the trashcan the other day,” You reminded Kim as your mind thought back to how much you disliked Amber.

If your school was the chocolate factory, Amber Kennedy was Veruca Salt. Anytime she pouted and whined about whatever new golden ticket she craved, she got it.

While Amber never anything specific towards you, anyone who disrespected your friend was an enemy in your book.

Kim rolled her eyes as the two of you made your way down the hallway,” Okay that’s true, I hate that bitch with every fiber of my being but I just need a mental break from school. Plus, it’ll be good for you to get yourself out there. I heard a certain lead singer in a band is looking forward to seeing you there.”

You knew right away who Kim was going on about but you only shrugged,” I don’t know who you’re talking about...Is it raining outside?”

Of course, she knew you were lying because there was only one guy you ever mentioned around her when you weren’t complaining about Peter.

Joshua- or Josh- was one of the few guys in your life who managed to not piss you off completely but that wasn’t the only thing you liked about him.

“ Let me refresh your memory; dark brown, curly-haired genius who sits behind you in Anatomy and according to you has ‘perfect brown eyes that make me want to jump off a bridge’?” Kim reminded you as you playfully hit her shoulder.

You were never the type to be boy crazy and you weren’t one of the girls who felt their knees buckle every time they saw him, but whenever he would wave or smile at you in class, you had to physically stop yourself from blushing like a schoolgirl.

In all honesty, you wouldn’t say you and Josh were friends, a better-suited term would be classmates that occasionally talked about things outside of school ever now and then. 

“ Look, as much as I would love to go to a party where I know no one and where the host hates me, I’m not going to go to a party just because Josh is going to be there. I don’t care how cute he is, I’m busy dealing with you know who,” You said as you heard someone chuckle behind you.

“ You think I’m cute?”

Your heart dropped to the floor as you turned around to see Josh standing behind you with a wide smirk on his face. You could feel your throat hitch as you quickly looked Josh up and down to make sure he was not a figment of your imagination.

It was nearly impossible for anyone to look good in a school uniform but of course, Josh managed to pull it off every time. His tie was loosely undone around his white collar and his sleeves were rolled up all the way to his elbows and you were 100% on board with it.

For a moment, you felt actual sympathy for Peter because now you understood how he must be feeling.

Without a second thought, you felt your binder slip out of your hands and once it hit the floor, your notes came out of the binder pocket.

You both took a moment to stare at the papers on the floor but Josh was the first one to bend down and pick some of them up.

You snapped out of your daze and kneeled down in front of him awkwardly as you helped him pick up your notes,” I’m sorry, you just startled me.”

Josh let out a small laugh as he shook his head,” Well, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was hoping to do the opposite actually. I was calling your name earlier but I guess you were too busy talking about...me.”

You pressed your lips together as you tried to avoid his gaze, as if that would help the blush fade away,” Yeah, about that, Kim was just telling me that you were planning to go to some party this weekend. Apparently, your band is playing right?”

You looked over your shoulder to look up at Kim but she was nowhere to be seen. Coward.

“ Amber’s party, yeah,” Josh said as you neatly put your stack of papers into your binder,” I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but were you saying that you aren’t going?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up at Josh and you felt stupid for feeling so nervous around him.

 By all means, you were not in love with him and saying that he was your crush was pushing it a bit.

All you knew was that apparently, Josh had been asking about you and that alone made something inside of you click.

You cleared your throat as you nodded, tearing your eyes away from his,” I mean, I would love to go but I might have plans.”

“ That’s too bad, I was kinda hoping I would see you there,” Josh said quietly, his face slightly flushed,” but don’t worry about it. I’m sure whatever you have going on is more important than just some party.”

You didn’t even realize you were both reaching for the same page of notes until his hand rested against yours for a moment. Your heart stopped as you waited for him to pull his hand away but he kept it on top of yours.

After a few seconds passed, Josh held your hand tightly as he helped you stand up again. He gave your hand one last squeeze before he let his hand fall to the side.

What the hell is happening?

As much as you wanted to go to the party, all you could think about was Peter. You knew that more than ever, he needed you and if your dad needed your help in the lab, you wanted to be there.

Then, as if your mind was telling you to reconsider, it pushed forward the conversation you had with Peter before he made contact with the lovedust.

“ You wasted your whole high school years on never accomplishing anything. You never went to a single party, you never passed your drivers test, and you’ve never even had a boyfriend before.”

A part of you couldn’t even believe Peter would ever say something like that because of how obsessed he is over you. Yet, that memory of Peter was only a few days ago.

You couldn’t just let it all go, you knew he was capable of saying hurtful things and for once, you didn’t want to worry about someone else.

For the first time ever, you were going to be selfish.

“ Maybe I can stop by to say hi or something to listen to your band,” You said as you watched him smile back,” but I can’t promise anything.”

Josh flipped his blazer over his shoulder and smirked,” Too late, I’m already looking forward to seeing you there.”

Josh gave a small wave before walking back over to his friends who were leaned up against the lockers. As you walked away, you felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

When you got to the front doors, you looked out the windows and watched the rain quietly. Of course, Peter was right.

You had planned to walk to the subway station after school since you knew your dad would be too busy fixing Peter to pick you up but if you would have known it was going to rain, you would’ve asked Kim to take you home.

You opened up the glass doors and held your textbook over your head, thankful for once that Mr. Carter had assigned homework from this mammoth of a book.  As you made your way down the stairs, you spotted a familiar face waiting on the bench in the courtyard with an umbrella.

“ Peter?” You called out as his head snapped up to see you,” what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the lab?”

Peter stood up and held the umbrella closer to you so you wouldn’t get wet and rubbed the back of his neck.

“ Your dad and Banner have been running tests on me all morning so they sent me to my room to rest for a bit. But then I saw that you forgot your umbrella and I didn’t want you to walk to the subway in the rain,” Peter said as the two of you shared the umbrella,” so here I am.”

“ You didn’t have to come all this way...but thank you,” You said as the two of you walked out the gates. 

Peter smiled as you interlocked your arms with him to get closer. As the two of you made your way across town, you both exchanged how your day went but when it came to talking about yours,  you purposely left out the part about Josh and the party.

You didn’t know why you would even keep it from him but you just kept telling yourself that what Peter didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him. Plus, if Peter found out about your interaction with Josh, there could be a possibility that he would be on a whole other level of jealousy and frankly, you didn’t have the time.

“ So, I read your note,” You said as you felt Peter tense up beside you,” you said you’d make it up to me and now I’m intrigued. What did you have in mind?”

“ A lot of things, if we’re thinking about someplace romantic there’s this-” Peter stopped himself and shook his head before taking a breath,” sorry. I’m just trying to get better at controlling what I say around you. I was just going to say that there’s this place around the corner that makes really good milkshakes and I thought it would be a nice date- as friends! Just friends. Unless you want to- fuck! I’m sorry Y/N, I’m just going to shut up now.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a small laugh as Peter shook his head,” You’re such a sap, Parker. It really is never a dull moment with you.”

Peter opened up the diner doors and as soon as you stepped in, you felt like you had been transported back in time.

The floor was sketched in the iconic black and white checkered print and the platinum bar had bright red stools along the outside. 

Just from your spot in the front, you could smell the peppermint disinfectant that they used to wipe down the tables but you were most focused on the jukebox in the corner as a Ritchie Valens song started to play in the background.

“ How did you find this place?” You asked as Peter led you to one of the booths in the corner of the diner.

“ I always knew about it but I figured it wouldn’t be fun without bringing someone along,” Peter admitted as you looked around at the old, decorative records across the wall,” I know how much you like those old movies so I thought it would be nice to take you back to the fun part of the 50s without the, you know, racism.”

You shook your head laughing as you turned your attention to the menu,” Nothing says the 50s like institutionalized racism and systemic oppression of women.”

Once the waitress arrived at the booth, Peter ordered a milkshake for the two of you to share and while you felt yourself falling deeper into the cliche, you couldn’t oppose since he was paying.

When the waitress left, Peter turned back to you and rested his hands on the table nervously. You couldn’t even imagine what he was thinking about but that in itself made you stand up straighter.

“ Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to but I’m just curious,” You asked as Peter nodded enthusiastically.

“ What does the lovedust feel like?” You asked as Peter raised his eyebrow,” I mean, how does it make you feel... about me?”

Peter felt the inside of his mouth dry up as he croaked,” Do you mean- are you asking me what it feels like to be in love with you? Because honestly Y/N,  it feels so weird-”

“ Being in love with me is weird?”

“ Well yeah! Wait no! No, it’s not weird!” Peter stammered as you watched him get more and more nervous,” it’s not weird to love you but my body feels weird around you. My hands are constantly sweaty and clammy and sometimes it’s hard to even focus on small things like breathing. I can’t even shower without thinking of you- not like that- well kinda like that- but every time I have a quiet moment to myself, all my mind wants to think about is you. When your dad was running tests on me this morning, all I could think about was how you two shared the same last name and one day-hopefully-I can change your last name to Parker- okay see I can’t stop what comes out of my mouth when I’m on a roll!”  

As your mind started to break down every sentence he said, the waitress gave Peter a strange look before placing the milkshake in front of the two of you.

“ Wow, okay that was... a lot. You could’ve left out about half of that but I’ll give you a pass because I feel sorry for you,” You admitted as you took the paper wrapping off of the straw and dipped it into your milkshake,” but is there anything else? Like is there any part of you that still hates me? Or is it all gone because of the lovedust?”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows as you leaned over to take a sip,” Hate you? I never hated you Y/N.”

You pulled your lips away from the straw and sat back,” What do you mean you never hated me? I’m pretty sure you hated me, we were so mean to each other. Like our relationship was toxic as hell.”

Peter lightly banged his straw against the table and tore off the paper around the straw without looking at you.

“ I never hated you. Was I a huge dick to you? Of course I was. Was it entertaining watching you air out your room after I left smoke bombs in it before your friends came over? Kinda yeah. But I never did it because I hated you. I would never do those things out of pure malice but...it’s hard for me to look back and imagine us hating each other when I’m head over heels for you now,” Peter sighed as he started playing with the wrappings of the straw.

It was hard to believe that after all this time Peter never hated you because there were countless times for you where you really hated him and planned to murder him in his sleep without a second thought.

“ I’m not going to lie, I hated you. Some days, you made me feel so shitty about myself that I would cry underneath my covers so no one could hear,” You revealed to him as Peter felt a wave of sadness wash over him,” After a while, I wasn’t even sad anymore I was just so exhausted. I felt like I always had to be on my toes around you just in case you would pull something on me and to make sure you would never make me cry again, I knew I would always have to have the upper hand.”

You watched Peter almost sulk back into his seat, his mind swarming with memories of how awful he really was to you,” Y/N, I am so sorry I ever treated you like that. I never knew I made you cry. I know I’m sick with the powder but even if I wasn’t, I would still feel as miserable as I do right now...I’m a monster aren’t I?”

You wanted to be as honest as possible with Peter but in the state that he was in at the moment, you weren’t sure if he was in the right mental headspace to hear any harsh criticism.

“ We were both monsters...but now we’re different. This is the first time in years where I’ve actually enjoyed your company and while I’m not ready to start picking out baby names or whatever you’re trying to do with me, I like what we have. I just hope that when you get cured, things don’t have to change, you know?” You said as you reached across the table and opened up your hand.

You never knew how important starting over was until now and you knew that no matter what, Peter would always be in your life. The only question was what he really meant to you but at this moment, you didn’t have an answer and it was okay.

Peter looked down at it and hesitantly held it, his fingers caressing over your knuckles lightly as he inhaled deeply,” As long as you’re in my life, things don’t have to change.”

You squeezed his hand as you leaned in to take another sip. When you pulled away, you leaned back into your seat as you playfully sighed,” You know, I can’t decide if I’m weirded out or flattered by your comments lately but at the same time, I kinda wanna just open the flood gates and see what kind of crazy stuff you say so I can blackmail you later on.”

Peter only shook his head as his face started to grow flushed,” Y/N, please,  if I could control my mouth, I would. Once I start talking, every single thought in my mind surges with your face and how I feel like how fucking amazing you look in your uniform-”

“ Nope, nuh-uh, we can stop it right there pervert.”

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[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all!              Kaitlynn ❤️😍

[teacupfulofstarshine]

jet-lagged heart

summary: logan’s research in antarctica has finally finished, he has job offers from three of pretoria’s major universities, and there are three plane tickets sitting in his backpack. he’s going to south africa to be with virgil. he’s going home.

(or: a fic about the first time virgil and logan meet in person, set in @lovelylogans absolutely phenomenal sense8-inspired 2021 big bang fic)

CW: minor anxiety

wordcount: ~1.7k

pairing: romantic analogical, platonic sides

read it on ao3!

It has long become habit for Logan to wear his earpiece constantly. He can’t remember the last time he took it off other than sleeping and showering - he puts it on daily along with his glasses. 

“Hello there,” a familiar voice says, a familiar weight draping around his shoulders. Logan smiles, leaning back and tipping his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “How are you, hmmm?”

“Excited,” Logan says. Virgil presses a kiss against his cheek, and Logan feels the uncontrollable urge to stim. One hand flaps at his side, and he can feel his cluster flapping in unison - a surge of joy from Patton, fond exasperation from Roman and Remus, mild annoyance from Janus, and nothing but lovelovelove from Virgil. 

“Today is the day. When does the plane leave?” 

Logan glances down at his wrist, only to realize that he isn’t wearing his watch. He blinks, and suddenly the arm in front of him is bare and tattooed with a bright blue paw-print-patterned watch on it. He blinks again, sees himself and Virgil reflected in his mirror, and quickly does some mental math. “Approximately four hours from now.” 

“Did your virtual interviews go well, umthandi?” 

“I have offers from three separate universities around Pretoria. Will you help me select which offer I should accept?” 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you, kochanek,” Logan hums, turning to nuzzle into Virgil’s stubbly cheek. 

“I have your bedroom prepared in our apartment,” Virgil says. Logan turns to look up at him in confusion. 

“Are we not sharing a bed?” 

Virgil flushes slightly, and Logan feels him rubbing at the back of his neck. “I know that sometimes you get anxious when crowded, and sometimes you get overwhelmed by the presence of other people. I thought it would be best to prepare a place where you could retreat and rest from the world.” 

Logan laughs, and he feels Patton laughing with him (even if Patton doesn’t really know what he’s laughing about.) “What?” Virgil says, and when Logan turns around he sees Virgil standing in front of a jacaranda tree in his yard, pouting. 

“You do not count as people, kochanek. None of our cluster does. You haven’t for some time.” Virgil becomes even more embarrassed - Logan can feel it surge in his chest. He leans forward and gently kisses Virgil’s nose. “I appreciate your sensitivity. It’s one of the many, many things I love about you.” 

Virgil presses a hand to Logan’s cheek, and Logan leans into the warmth before he can stop himself. He watches Virgil smile at him, blinks and sees the lovestruck expression on his own face, and closes his eyes happily. 

*~*~*~*~*

“Did you buy the -”

“Yes, Janus,” Logan sighs, swinging his carryon over his shoulder and tapping at the Bluetooth. “For the seventeenth time, I used the money that you and Roman wired me to buy tickets for the seats around me so that no one will notice me talking to myself when I have to take the earpiece out.”

“You had better be bloody cautious.” Logan takes a step into Janus’s office, careful not to disturb the papers spread across the carpeted floor in an intricate web. Janus, sitting in the middle of the madness, reaches out and underlines something in dark yellow highlighter. “I will not have someone sending me psychic pain because they were stupid enough to get caught and experimented upon.” 

Logan is familiar enough with his cluster to feel the worrypanicfearterror don’tgetintotroubleican’tgetyououtofpleasepleaseplease vibrating in Janus’s chest. He reaches out and squeezes Janus’s shoulder, pretending he doesn’t notice when Janus drops his head briefly and squishes his hand. “I promise to be careful, Janus.” 

“You better,” Janus says. Logan takes another step and glances up at the arrival and departure board to find his gate.

*~*~*~*~*

“Had to take the earpiece out for the flight, huh?” Remus says, lounging upside-down in the empty seat next to Logan. Logan, who is focusing on his e-reader, offers a discreet nod. “Sucks to suck, my man. Sucks to suck.” 

Logan doesn’t verbally respond, and Remus takes it as full permission to keep going. “Your boyfriend was telling me all about poison plants the other day - did you know that a deadly nightshade and a tomato are in the same family?” 

“Solanum lycopersicum,” Logan murmurs, glancing around to ensure that no one is paying attention to him. Remus babbles on about plants for a few more minutes, flipping himself upright and flopping into Logan’s lap. “Do you mind?”

“I don’t, actually, thank you for asking!” Remus laughs. Logan puts his hand below his e-reader, where no one else will see it but Remus, and flips him off. “You’re gonna have to come visit the rest of us soon or we’ll think you’re playing favorites.” 

Logan looks directly at the exaggerated fake pout on Remus’s face and says, “I do have a favorite. It is not you.” 

Remus rolls his eyes and slides off the seat, disappearing before he hits the floor.

*~*~*~*~*

Patton looks up with a mouthful of sandwich to see Logan slumped in the air in front of him, one hand pressed against his forehead. 

“Rough flight?” 

“Travel headache, plus a visit,” Logan mutters. Patton hums, narrowing his eyes just slightly to judge which member Logan saw by the frown pinching his face.

“Remus?” A nod. “I’m sure he meant well.”

“Unexpected.” 

“Don’t you have your earpiece in?” 

Logan shakes his head briefly. “Not on a plane.” 

“Ah.” Patton reaches out and gently pats Logan’s shoulder. “How much longer until you land in Pretoria?” 

Logan glances down at his watch, then in front of him. Patton blinks and he’s sitting next to Logan, staring at a screen at the front of the plane that tells the expected arrival time. “Ninety minutes, give or take.” 

Patton leans over and gently presses against Logan’s shoulder with the side of his head. “Hang in there, Lo. I know you can do it.” 

Logan sighs, again, but his face relaxes a little. Patton blinks again, and Logan disappears just as his students return from the lunchroom. 

*~*~*~*~*

“Virgil, calm yourself down,” Andisiwe says. She offers Virgil a cup of coffee, but he doesn’t take it, too busy pacing back and forth in front of the arrivals and departures board. 

“The flight was supposed to be in ten minutes ago,” Virgil says. “The board still says that the flight was supposed to be in ten minutes ago, so why isn’t the flight in?” 

“You cannot control the weather,” Andisiwe says. She sets the cup of coffee down on the small airport end table next to her own depleted cup, her purse, and the book Virgil brought in a fruitless effort to distract himself. “We knew that he might experience some turbulence leaving Antarctica, to say nothing of the layovers and connecting flights and the myriad of other things that come with air travel. You would know if he had been hurt or killed, would you not?” 

Virgil’s entire body runs ice-cold at the mention, and he takes a few quick, panicked inhales. He feels reassurance flood his body - his mother’s hand on his shoulder, Patton’s arm around him, Roman’s hand on his back, right between his shoulderblades. He feels Logan’s hand slide into his, and he exhales shakily. 

“You’re right,” he says, speaking to his mother and his cluster in unison. “Thank you.” 

Patton and Logan both squeeze gently, Roman rubs his back and pats him a few times, and his mother smiles at him knowingly. 

“Has he arrived, then?” she asks. 

Virgil blinks, and he’s sitting in a plane, watching Logan collect his luggage from an overhead compartment and head down the aisle. He blinks again, and he’s back with his mother. 

“He’s offboarding now,” Virgil sighs. Andisiwe pats his shoulder and takes a seat next to the end table she’s claimed, taking a sip of her coffee. Virgil takes a hasty swig of his own before turning back to the gate. 

It isn’t long before he spots a familiar face, backpack and duffel bag slung over his shoulders and rolling suitcase behind him. Logan’s hair is slightly mussed, glasses smudged, tie loosened. Virgil blinks and he’s looking at himself, taking in his own wide eyes and spreading grin and feeling an immeasurable amount of love well up in his chest. He blinks again, view changing but love remaining, and Logan is smiling at him, speeding up to a not-quite jog as he weaves through the crowd. 

“Logan,” Virgil breathes, reaching out as Logan releases the handle of his suitcase and slips his bags off his shoulders. He spreads his arms, and Logan slides into him effortlessly. Virgil buries his face into Logan’s hair and inhales the familiar scent of shampoo and body wash and Logan that haunted him all those months Logan was in Antarctica. He feels himself slip briefly into Logan’s body, feels strong arms around him and kisses being pressed into his hair repeatedly (he hadn’t even known he was kissing Logan’s head) and hears a rabbit-rapid heartbeat. 

“I have missed you,” Logan sighs softly, and Virgil lets his whole body relax around Logan’s. 

*~*~*~*~*

“Is the apartment too small?” Virgil asks, anxiously opening the door and shooing Logan inside. He’d insisted on taking the majority of Logan’s luggage, despite his protests; Logan just smiles fondly and steps into the living room. It’s furnished with a television, a sofa, a small bookshelf in front of the window full of plants, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on the wall. Logan notes with increasing joy that there are two whole shelves cleared off for him to put books on, once he unpacks or has his mother send some from Poland.

He can see over a small dividing wall into the kitchen, with a table in the center and two chairs. There’s a hallway leading down to an open door, through which Logan can see glimpses of a toilet and bathtub, and one door on either side of the hallway; he presumes those lead to the bedrooms. 

“Is it okay?” Virgil repeats.

“it is perfect,” Logan says. “Truthfully, the specifications of the apartment do not matter. We could live anywhere in the world so long as we lived together. The apartment is wonderful because it is ours.” 

Virgil takes Logan’s face, hands warm, and Logan leans up to kiss him again. 

[clearlynotjanus]

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day Four, Debate

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Tired of the neglect he experiences at the hands of staunch Morality, when Janus is sent to the Dark Side, Logan attempts to follow some years later. CW: Food mention, Moceit fight Word Count: 3448 Genre: Gen, Hurt/comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Platonic Loceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash​​​ @catalinaacosta​​​ @whatishappeningrightnow​​​ @anxiousbean4404​​​ @vexelore​​​ @the-dead-and-the-decaying​​​ @serpentinesomebody​​​ @poptartsaysurloved​​​ @robertdownerjr​​​ @dangitsbrightinhere​​​ @iamuncomffy​​​ @sanderdarksides​​​ @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn​​​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​​​ @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626​​​ @cosplayhanna​​​ @edupunkn00b​​​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow​​​ @awesomerandomgirl1​​​ @rizzyluke​​​ @sevencrashing​​​ @all-panic-nodisco​​​​ ​​​

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Though Logic and Self Preservation never had the chance to spend very much time together before the older boy’s disappearance, the conversations they did have were constructive, engaging, and supportive. Which was quite the opposite of what the others had to offer as the years dragged on. During the six that followed the unfortunate event, Logic found himself dismissed and belittled at every turn. Eight years old at the time, he didn’t exactly understand what had happened to his friend. It was confusing, and no one seemed willing to talk about it. The other Creativity mourned like Self Preservation was dead. Fear didn’t seem to notice. Morality cringed whenever Logic brought it up. He didn’t understand.

Time went on well enough then. Eight years old turned into nine, then ten, then eleven; then Fear morphed into Anxiety and the other Creativity disappeared. Even Logic could have called that one -- and he had. If only Morality listened to him and his advocating for the curly haired Creativity’s ideas. If only Fear had let him help more instead of jumping to improbable conclusions. All of it was a shame and it made Logic’s stomach hurt. He had liked that Creativity.

Eleven, twelve, and thirteen passed; then Anxiety disappeared as well, giving Logic a foreboding sense of loneliness. He didn't get along perfectly with Anxiety, but still. It felt like the Sides were dropping like flies. At this rate, Thomas would be more Dark than Light, Creativity said. Morality told them that was nonsense; as long as they three stayed good, Thomas would be fine. But Logic couldn’t help thinking this one was more his fault than the last. Perhaps if he had better communicated reality to Anxiety, things could’ve been different. Morality assured him it had nothing to do with anything like that; Anxiety just couldn’t be worked with. That didn’t sound right.

Through the beginning of his teenage years, the dismissal deepened. Too young, too inexperienced, too angry, too serious, too silly. No matter what Logic did, he couldn’t get through to them -- especially Morality, who seemed adamant that he had no idea what he was doing yet. The arguments ranged from petty to serious. No, Logic would say, Thomas can’t afford another Lego set, Morality, he has to save for textbooks next semester. No, Thomas shouldn’t have extra dessert just because he did his laundry today; he just had cake yesterday and God knows why. Irresponsibility began to overwhelm Thomas as he indulged in his Feelings more. He daydreamed a more fulfilling life, as he’d have himself convinced, through Creativity’s delusions. Logic was never considered. In fact, Logic was bad for insinuating everyone else was wrong.

At fourteen, Logic had had enough. One morning he woke up and decided he didn’t belong with the others -- with Creativity and Morality. He belonged with Self Preservation and the other Creativity. The one that he liked and the older boy who had always listened to him. The thought of enduring another day of disagreements and neglect dried his throat, so as the sun rose, he sunk out.

The Dark Side was, well, dark. Logic didn’t know what he expected but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised. He went to turn on the living room light but curiously found the switch already flipped, the bulb already illuminated. He went to open the blinds and found them already drawn. Rather than foreboding, as Self Preservation found it upon his initial arrival all those years ago, Logic found it fascinating. Not fascinating enough to keep his stomach growling though. Were the others already awake? Did they not have breakfast over here? Perhaps he was just early.

Unceremoniously, Logic grabbed himself a bowl, a box of cereal, and milk from the fridge to construct his breakfast -- a task Morality had always insisted he do for Logic until recently, when he spitefully went a full month of refusing to eat anything Morality made him. He was old enough to make his own breakfasts and lunches, thank you very much. 

“You’re up early,” A voice followed the sound of footsteps down the stairs. “Are you making breakfast for once, Vir--” Janus’ words and feet came to an abrupt end when he reached the bottom landing and his eyes rested on Logan; the teen was small but bigger than Janus remembered, bigger than he was the last time they had spoken for sure. He did the mental math quickly -- it’d been six years since he left the Light Side, Logan had been about eight at the time and had always been six years Janus’ junior; so the boy was fourteen. Logan’s back was ramrod straight at their table as he mindlessly sucked Cheerios off a spoon. Across the room, the television droned the news, but Janus was unable to hear it due to the ringing that pierced his ears.

“Good morning, Self Preservation,” Logan greeted after he swallowed, as casually as anything despite his stare that lasted a second too long. He noted the shine on one half of Janus’ face; the way one pupil had slit and changed colors. Fascinating -- but was he okay? He seemed okay at least.

“Self Preservation?” Janus said with a mask of amused absurdity. “When I left I was Prezzi.” The conversation was good, distracting enough to quell his panic as he glanced up the stairs again. Logic’s room hadn’t appeared -- or perhaps he had missed it?

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you still liked being called that,” Logan explained down at his cereal and Janus felt his heart breaking.

“Of course I do,” His brows knitted earnestly at the boy, a hand clutching his collar as though it choked him. Again he glanced up the stairs. “If you’re alright,” Janus took a step back, “For just a moment. I’ve forgotten something, I’ll--”

“My room isn’t here,” Logan’s voice edged with annoyance as he clinked his spoon against the bowl. “I tried everything and it just wouldn’t move,” He mumbled as he aggressively stabbed a Cheerio.

“You tried to make it move?” Janus’ voice gained a shrillness. He couldn’t believe the boy’s audaciousness! “Logan,” He reprimanded sternly but to no avail. The boy continued to sluice quiet mayhem through his cereal and Janus was at a loss. 

He glanced up the stairs a final time. It was early, Virgil wouldn’t come out of his room for a couple hours at least, if he did at all that day. His mind quietly asked what Remus would be doing, forgetting for a moment in the emotional chaos that he had run away to the Imagination months ago. Janus sighed and crossed the room.

“So,” He said in a decidedly conversational tone as he sat down at the table. “Anything interesting happening today?” He gestured at the television and Logan shrugged. Janus frowned. The topic of why he was here would have to be breached eventually, but as long as the Subconscious was refusing to move Logan’s room, Janus didn’t think it was an emergency. What was an emergency, however, was the poor boy’s emotional state.

“Do you want more cereal?” Janus offered quietly as he eyed the nearly empty bowl. Surely the Cheerios that were left were too soggy to be enjoyed at this point.

“I can get it myself,” Logan nearly spat with a venom Janus hadn’t heard from him yet. His brows raised, both concerned and entertained. 

The Logic he knew would never use such a tone, the contrast was almost funny. Though Logan hadn’t changed completely he noticed; Janus had several memories of Logan insisting he could do something himself. From climbing on counters for scissors he definitely shouldn’t have been using, to pulling bookshelves down instead of asking one of the older Sides to get a book for him, to stubbornly using the side of his fork with both hands to cut a piece of chicken when he would refuse help with dinner. But it would all be done with apologies and explanations, assurances that he’d be safer next time, growing understanding that though his mind was large, he was still small.

“Logan,” Janus said patiently, the humor in his expression dissolving to reveal patience and worry. The boy grit his teeth and continued to glare narrow eyes down at his cereal bowl. “Why did you come here?” Janus asked softly, leaning forward to try and meet Logan’s eyes. 

Then Logan remembered that in the short time they had been on the same side of the Mindscape together, Self Preservation had always listened to him. He had always been there to turn to when the others ignored him. Remembering this made his anger ebb away, though with that, the sadness he had been trying to ignore washed ashore. The hardness in his expression softened, but he still refused to look up.

“Morality and Creativity don’t listen to me,” Logan admitted quietly and shame filled his stomach, colliding with his breakfast in a way that made him nauseous. “I’ve tried everything but Morality always says I’m too young to tell him what to do,” His brow twitched and Janus watched as his sad expression morphed back into something more callous. 

The sight hurt his heart, but mostly it made anger warm his chest. What on earth was Patton doing? The root of all their issues so far had been a distinct lack of listening. From fighting with Janus over developing moral stances, to stubbornly refusing to consider nuance in the pursuit of art and self expression, to the apathetic dismissal of welling fear and anxiety as adulthood approached -- was there anyone Patton listened to? 

“So you came here,” Janus sighed, attempting and somewhat failing to keep the rage out of his tone. “Because I had always listened to you,” He guessed but then Logan shrugged and shook his head.

“Sort of,” He replied and Janus blinked curiously. Had he missed something? “Mostly I just assumed this is where we came when Patton hated us.”

The straightforward words punched Janus in the gut, knocking the wind out of him like he had just unexpectedly stepped off a building and was now free falling with panicked arms that reached for anything to hold on to. As usual, Logic’s assessment wasn’t incorrect. In a way, this was where the Sides Morality didn’t like ended up; but it was deeper than that. At least Janus had to hope it was deeper than that, or else he’d never find it in himself to forgive his closest friend. Janus swallowed his hurt and sat up, shoving his shaking hands under the table. It wasn’t Logan’s fault and he wouldn’t hold the injury against him, though he did need a moment for a deep breath before he was able to find his voice again.

“Patton doesn’t hate you,” Janus reassured baselessly on reflex, but then he stopped. He couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t just blatantly lying -- which, of course, he had no issues with, but it was a sad realization, nevertheless. 

“Then why doesn’t he listen to me?” Logan asked as Janus faltered. “Why did he send you and Anxiety and Remus away?” He looked around the shadowed room as he spoke before meeting Janus’ eyes again. “Creativity calls this the Dark Side which implies that he and Morality make up some sort of Lighter half,” Janus’ hands became unsteady once more as Logan continued asking questions he didn’t necessarily have answers to. At least no answers he wanted to admit. “But if they’re just going to keep dismissing me, then I don’t want any part in that,” He said decisively and pushed his cereal bowl away like it contained the subject matter. “If being a Dark Side means being listened to, then that’s what I’ll be.”

“No, you won’t,” Janus said much harder than he meant to, making Logan’s eyes shoot up. “You’re going back,” he said resolutely, leaving no room for misinterpretation in his tone. Logan opened his mouth but then Janus stood, the chair squeaking loudly against the floor. “If Patton did actually hate you as he does myself and the others, your room would be here,” Janus pointed out, flaring his own heartache with the presumed fact. Logan frowned angrily and balled a fist on the table.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch then.”

“No. You won’t.” 

“Fine, I’ll sleep in Remus’ room. He’s used to sharing.”

“This isn’t a debate, Logan, you’re going back.” Janus said evenly, without raising his voice, which somehow made the seriousness in his tone and the steel in his eyes even more intimidating.

In the glaring silence of Logan frantically trying to think of more argument points, Janus’ phone vibrated in his pocket. With a short and aggravated huff, he fished the object out and rolled his eyes at the displayed message.

[SMS From: Patton]

PLEASE tell me Logan isn’t with you

“Well,” Janus sighed, “It seems we’re both in trouble now.”

[SMS Re: Patton]

Oh no, not at all. Whyever would you think that

“That’s Morality, isn’t it,” Logan guessed, looking miserably down at the table. He didn’t want to think about what Morality was saying.

“Yes,” Janus confirmed as he ignored the message that popped up almost immediately. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he sat back down quietly.

Logan was smart, far too smart for his age which is why everything was very difficult for him. Morality was childish and couldn’t see past the fact that Logan was the youngest. Even so, it wasn’t as if he was an actual child. He was the manifestation of Thomas’ Logic; undeveloped, easily frustrated, overwhelmed by his Feelings and in desperate need of acknowledgement for simply trying his best. But even when Janus would convey it to Patton in that way, there was no getting to him. 

The fear that Logic would be cast aside and hidden away in this Darkness along with him was real, however. If that were to happen, Thomas would be in a very dangerous situation. It was terrifying enough that his natural Fight or Flight was already over here -- that his very will to live was as well. Janus didn’t want to think about what metamorphosis Logic would go through in that process. From Fear to Anxiety, now to Paranoia; watching Virgil suffer was already more than enough heartache for him, which wasn’t even to mention what was happening to Remus.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so angry at you, Logan,” Janus spoke softly, folding his hands on the table. He watched with a frown as Logan continued staring down. “But I really need you to understand that this is no place for you.” He leaned forward, trying to meet Logan’s eyes again, to no avail. “I know it’s hard, I know Patton doesn’t listen, but you have to keep trying,” Janus’ tone and expression were beseeching and genuine, his brow creased with a deep worry he didn’t have words for. “You have to promise me that you’ll keep trying,” Logan looked up, defiance and confusion hardening his eyes. He opened his mouth but Janus continued. “You have to. Even when you don’t want to. Even when the others don’t want you to. You have to, for Thomas.”

Logan stared at him, confusion slowly overtaking his rebellion. Janus looked…sincere and earnest, but he didn’t understand why. What was the point of arguing with Morality and Creativity if they would never listen? What was the point of going back when even Self Preservation knew he’d always be dismissed? It sounded exhausting. At fourteen, Logan was already so tired of it. But there was something in Janus’ eyes that convinced him to stop fighting; something that told him there was more he just didn’t understand yet. If that were true, if that were ever true, he’d believe it coming from the Side in front of him now and him, alone.

“Okay,” Logan sighed and Janus smiled in relief. 

“Good,” He nodded at the bowl as he sat back in his chair again. “You can finish up your breakfast but then--”

“There you are!” Patton’s voice, coming from behind Janus, stopped his words dead in their tracks. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, kiddo!” 

“Morality,” Logan said, the word easily mistaken for a greeting. The boy glanced between Patton and Janus, the latter having lined his lips in a pensive, unhumored smile. 

“Whatcha doin’ over here, bud?” Patton asked as he approached the table. Janus rolled his eyes and leaned as far away in his chair as he could manage. 

Watching Janus’ reactions to Morality, Logan felt equally annoyed; both at the fact that Morality came here to get him, and also for how interrupted their conversation had become.

“Eating,” Logan said curtly, reaching for his cereal bowl.

“Well you know we have plenty of cereal in our kitchen, so why don’t you come on back and I’ll pour you some!” 

Patton’s positivity grated Janus like sandpaper. Years of assumptions and miscommunications soured his stomach. His body reacted to Morality like something toxic.

“Maybe he prefers the cereal over here,” Janus mumbled sarcastically and Patton bristled as though he had honestly expected Janus to stay silent this entire exchange. 

Logan bit his tongue to keep the appeased smile off his lips but his interest bubbled over. No Side had gotten under Patton’s skin like that since Anxiety was sent away. It was almost a missed sight.

“He wouldn’t know what the cereal over here was like unless someone made him try it,” Patton not-so-subtly accused as he reached for Logan’s wrist.

Logan refused at first, pulling with half strength against Patton’s grip. “I’m perfectly capable of pouring cereal myself, Morality,” He mumbled as he met Janus’ eyes. His sardonic and cynical expression seemed to say, it’d be easier to just go along with him I guess, much to Logan’s dismay. “But fine,” He sighed and let himself be pulled to stand, though he immediately shook off Patton’s hand. 

“Thank you,” Patton gloated as he turned to leave and Janus all but groaned out loud. 

Logan paused. The moral superiority that rolled off Patton was familiar, but at the same time something new against the kindness Janus had shown him. He could easily see why they didn’t get along; their methods were very different. Morality was overbearing, insistent, stubborn, rigid, and often narrow minded. Having developed from Thomas’ Feelings, Patton was silly, immature, and hard to take seriously. Self Preservation was the opposite somehow; smart, clever, flexible, nuanced, and able to see the whole picture with ease. Janus was sarcastic, mature, and deathly serious when need be as a result. Comparing them, it was easy to see why Logic had an easier time getting along with Self Preservation, and why it was pointless to hope that would ever change.

“I’m not doing this because you convinced me to,” Logan told Patton as he trailed after.

Patton turned to blink at Logan, looking mostly confused with a hint of offense. “Of course not,” He saved face, “You’re coming back because over there is where you belong.”

“No,” Logan said slowly, glancing behind himself at Janus, who stayed sitting facing away from them. “I’m doing this because Thomas needs me,” He informed Patton as he began to sink out. “And because you and Creativity would be hopeless by yourselves.”

Janus snickered, covering the sound with a cough into his hand.

“My word, Logan sure has developed quite the backbone while I’ve been gone,” Janus snarked once he and Patton were alone.

“What did you say to him?” Patton accused, his tone somewhere between antagonistic and wounded. 

“Why, nothing of course,” Janus mocked and Patton’s eyes narrowed. “We just bonded over our mutual dismissal, is all.”

“I don’t dismiss him!” Patton sputtered and Janus snorted. A tense silence rose before Patton continued. “Anyway, you shouldn’t be talking to him.”

Janus stood finally and turned to face Patton, his brows raised. “And why’s that?” 

“Because you’re gonna i-influence him or something! Like you did with Remus and then Logan will be over here too!” Patton stuttered and Janus scowled.

“Oh please, you know I’m the only reason he went back so willingly,” Janus waved a limp hand. “Though I doubt he’ll try this again anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry your simple little head about it, darling.”

“Well, good.” Patton finished, glowering at Janus’ smirk. He hated that expression. Why was Janus happy about them fighting? It certainly didn’t make Patton happy. He was anything but having to face him like this. Without much more to say, he sank out as Janus offered a caustic wave of his fingers.

“Good riddance.”

Chapter Three || Chapter Five Part One / Part Two

[fukurodaze]

fear of losing

pairing: exboyfriend!oikawa tooru x fem!reader  genre/s: angst, pining, some kinda fluff word count: 2k warnings: mentions of inferiority complex (both reader and oikawa), mild swearing, reader passing out from over exhaustion synopsis: you never realised that hurting oikawa tooru meant hurting yourself.

lowercase intended.

oh, god. you hate him. so much.

so much that you refuse to loop your arms around oikawa tooru’s neck when he carries you, bridal style, across the hallways of aoba johsai high school. you’re only half conscious, but you use every bit of consciousness to stay limp in oikawa’s arms, as if making it harder for him to carry you; as if he would give up on carrying you and leave it up to someone else. as if.

it’s as if you hate that he still cares about you. and it makes you feel so utterly shit because you’ve spent so much time shutting him out, yet he welcomes you in his arms, his heartbeat fast in your ears.

he still cares, huh?

it’s all a blur until you wake up to the smell of antiseptic solution and a hard mattress underneath you. the white light is bright in your eyes, which doesn’t help with the painful ache in your temples. your throat is dry, your limbs weak. you turn to your side, body crawled up in a little ball. you feel small. somewhere in the room, you hear dialogue between the nurse and a familiar male voice nearing you, and you debate with yourself whether or not to keep your eyes closed or sit up.

“oh. she’s awake.” too late.

the nurse calls your name and you have no choice but to get up and rub your temples. it still aches. 

“she passed out during fifth per-”

“during maths. fifth period.” you throw a glare at oikawa, and he takes a step back. when the nurse asks you whether or not you’ve been eating or sleeping properly, you only attempt to answer.

“it’s exams next week.” the nurse only raises a brow, and you’re told that answer’s not good enough.

“i like to revise. and it’s not like i’m going to pull all-nighters during exams. i’m not that stu-”

“you shouldn’t be pulling all nighters, l/n. not at your age, at least.”

you stop yourself from scoffing at her words, and your eyes roll ever so slightly in annoyance when the nurse goes to get some vitamins from the drawer. oikawa sees it, and makes a mental note to rephrase the nurse’s words to you once you’ve swallowed the vitamins.

your eyes flicker over to oikawa, eyebrows furrowing at how he isn’t leaving. rather, he’s sitting on the chair opposite of the bed, and as you set down the glass of water, your mouth dries up again, this time not because you hadn’t drank anything for twelve hours, but because you’ve seemingly forgotten how to talk to oikawa tooru.

when the room is quiet and the nurse goes back to clicking on her desk, oikawa stirs. “when was the last time you slept?”

“i’ve done this before, i’m fine.”

“you’re not answering my question.”

there’s a cracking silence that strikes the room. “i told you, i’m-”

“no. how long?”

“i still eat regularly, so it’s-”

“one day? two days?” his voice is soft, but firm, too firm, that you can’t take it.

“since monday.” you mumble, but you know he can hear. it’s thursday afternoon. you tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes downcast, not ready to meet his disappointment.

oikawa stands up halfway before he sits himself down again. his laugh is dry when you hear it. “you finally broke.”

your voice quiets down, but you force it out. “how are you any different?”

oikawa stirs in his seat once more, as if he’d been well aware of how he overworks himself, too. 

“how are you any different when you need a fucking knee brace when you play? how are you any different when you can’t seem to catch a motherfucking break, but you still act like you’re above it all?”

“this isn’t about me!” oikawa grips the sides of his chair, holding himself back. he wants to storm off, because he knows what you’re about to bring up, but he stays back.

“no. it is. you don’t have the right to talk to me like a little child because we are the same. and i know that because you and me, we both know that we,” and you voice starts cracking, “that we- we are never going to be-”

“stop it.”

“we will never be... there.” you curve your words a little, not wanting to feel the pain yourself.

push him out, push him out, you tell yourself. it doesn’t matter if you hurt yourself, as long as he’s gone, you think. you don’t want- no, you don’t need him to care for you. all he’s going to do is treat you like some spike for his ego, as if saying, look here! this person can’t hurt me! 

you look back at oikawa, and his head is turned away. his arms are folded as he slouches on the chair, his uniform rolled up to his elbows. you hear no response.

“that’s enough,” he speaks, and you feel the tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. they’re hot against your skin, and as they threaten to come out, your neck feels itself warm up with the rest of your body. you’re frustrated. so, so frustrated that it makes your blood boil. so, so frustrated that you can’t even look at oikawa because he’s your reminder that there are people who can get into class 6 without trying as hard as you did. 

now that the tears are falling, your hands fly to your face, embarrassed that you’d dare to cry. it’s a sign of weakness, isn’t it? you believed that tears were better released on stuffed pillows and thick duvets, not in front of people who would, eventually, see you melt down, peeling away layer by layer. 

and you can’t stop crying. your breathing is fast and you don’t think you’ll be able to come back for seventh period, so you fold your knees into your chest, as if curling yourself up into a ball meant disappearing from the world, even if it was momentary. 

but you find that you can’t disappear even when you’re so tired you feel like you could stop breathing, because there’s a dip in the mattress and you find yourself leaning into oikawa’s side, craving anything more than the feeling of hot tears down your cheeks. his right arm wraps around your side, rubbing up and down the top of your arm. your mind travels back to the end of your first year, where you had first seen oikawa tooru in all his inglorious glory, laying limply against the gym wall, volleyballs scattered left and right. it was a time when you had barged into the gym, asking if you could stay there for a little while since all the teachers had locked up the other classrooms. you remember he looked surprised - offended, almost - but you paid him no attention as he practiced hundreds of rounds and you revised tens of times.

it was also the first night he walked you home, even if your houses weren’t near each other. one night after another, oikawa was the boy you shared big small talk with on sidewalks and asphalt platforms. it was him, almost every day. oikawa became well acquainted with your taste in music, and he’d take it up on himself to hum to each song on your playlist as he walked you home, one of your earbuds in his right ear with the other in your left ear. you, on the other hand, made friends with most of the volleyball club and the cheering squad due to your frequent attendance at his volleyball games. you had even learned how to do an underhand volleyball serve, and you remember oikawa’s stifled laugh as you knocked the ball into the ceiling and onto your head. he was sweet. 

and it seemed like you two worked out - really well. one day, your late nights at the gym turned into an early afternoon after class, where he came up to your desk and asked if you wanted to “go together”. you found that it had been a date after he kissed you at your doorstep, and you took his hand when you found out you wanted to kiss him again.

but screw him, right?

yeah, screw him and his group of fangirls. screw him and his soft smile. screw him and his know-it-all-i’m-so-much-better-than-you petty personality. you’ve convinced yourself you hated him because stress and a fear of losing built up in both of you to the point that you two had thrown at each other words as poisonous as mercury. that was the catalyst of the end of it all. and you feel even worse now because you are crying on oikawa’s shoulder two weeks after your “breakup”; two weeks after you told him things made to hurt him. 

oikawa stays in silence, running a hand through your hair as you grab onto his school button up for dear life. he’s hardly seen you cry before, but in this moment you feel like oikawa is the only person that you’d let yourself be so weak to. you hate it, but you start to think about oikawa for once.

the brunette’s feet swing back and forth, and soon, yours are too, following the nonexistent rhythm of his legs hanging off the elevated mattress. 

you feel your sharp grip on his shirt loosen into softer edges, your arms coming to hug the entirety of his torso instead. you know you’re going to walk around with swollen eyes for the rest of today and maybe even tomorrow, but you couldn’t care less now that the tears have finally ran themselves thin. you breathe steady.

oikawa doesn’t stop the hand in your hair or the swinging of his feet, but he turns more to face you, meeting your glossy gaze. it’s when you look into his deep eyes that you find kindness and care, something you’ve overlooked far too many times.

you don’t want to hear his voice, or see his face, or ever interact with him ever again. but right now you can’t help but tear down your own walls just to end up in his arms because the truth is that you miss him, so, so, so much. 

the pads of your fingertips shake around his middle and your cheeks start to rise when oikawa takes his other hand in yours in a slow movement, and, surprisingly, your fingers intertwine with his. it’s a wave of relief oikawa doesn’t know how to describe, feeling like nothing and everything at the same time.

your head presses against the wet patch on his shoulder, and you take a deep breath.

“can i walk home with you?”

oikawa’s hand in your hair freezes for a moment before it travels down to your waist, keeping you close to him. 

“rice balls on me?” his voice is low, almost like a whisper. 

your eyelids are heavy enough to give up on staying awake, drawing themselves like magnets. but you manage a nod and a positive hum as you unknowingly drift off on his wet shoulder. you think you’re calmer now, your mind going blank, finally, temporarily, as you let aside your pride for today. frankly, you’re still embarrassed and scared and nervous, but there’s always something unmistakeable about oikawa’s care. 

it makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to stay up all those nights or score full marks on everything - the same way oikawa felt his aching muscles soothe when you’d drag him out of the gym late at night. it makes you feel content, and oikawa can see it; a slow smile planted on your face as you finally fall asleep.

[stxrrywildflower]

love you goodbye (s.r)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - “it’s inevitable everything that’s good comes to an end”

warnings - angst, fighting

there was something about love that people fantacized about.

finding your perfect partner, living your lives together, maybe having a family - it was something most aspired towards.

it was a natural reaction, companionship was a basic human need after all. it gave people a sense of belonging.

at first, spencer seemed to be your other half. he taught you how to love, how to be youself, and most importantly, helped you become such a better person. your relationship seemed ideal, all key points of what you wanted being checked off.

you were sure you two would end up together in the end, if asked, you would have placed a bet on it.

but over the course of your relationship, your time together slowly dwindled. in the beginning, you could easily tell spencer was fully committed. he actively tried to be home on time, and if he wasn’t, he was making it up in another way.

by the time you were a few months in, you slowly gave him more leeway when it came to work. his job was extremely demanding and you did not want to be the significant other who dragging the other down.

anyone could tell spencer took advantage of that in some way. he would start showing up ten, twenty, thirty minutes, and even an hour after when you expected him.

you always knew where he was, spencer usually got lost in work once he started. besides, he always let you know if he was doing something with the team.

you were really hoping tonight would actually happen. you and spencer actually sat down to plan out a date night. spencer had promised he would be home on time. but unsurprisingly, you were seated on his couch forty-five minutes after the time you were set to leave and just waiting for him to walk through the door.

the keys turned in the lock before the door opened a moment later. you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and keeping your gaze on the coffee table in front of you.

“you’re late again spencer.”

he was quick to formulate an excuse, mind turning as he desperately tried to grasp some words that could help his case. even then he was still nose deep in work. “i know i just had an extra file to write up and then i-”

“i can’t do this anymore,” you cut him off.

spencer stopped dead in his tracks, meeting your downcast eyes in clear suprise. “what are you talking about?”

“us i mean,” you explained. “i can’t be in a relationship with you anymore. i just can’t.”

by now spencer had dropped off his work bag on the table and moved to lean against the kitchen counter. “can i go put my badge and gun away and then we can talk about this?”

you tucked your head down further after that. even during a potential breakup his first thought was work. “sure.”

he returned a moment later, resuming his previous spot almost immediately. a great concern was in his eyes. you could tell he was already formulating multiple theories on what was going on.

“can you please just explain this?” spencer asked.

you took a deep breath first. a lot was going to be revealed in the next few minutes and you wanted to be prepared.

“i can’t be with someone who isn’t here for me half of the time,” you explained calmly. “i’ve tried so hard to make this work with minimal complaints and i’m just done with it. you’re never here spencer. half of our dates get canceled and when you are in this apartment you’re working most of the time. it isn’t fair to me to deal with it anymore.”

spencer already started protesting. “but that’s not true y/n. i’m here as much as i can.”

“how many days nights have gotten canceled because of your work? how many times have i had to wake up to an empty bed because you’ve slipped out during the night? come on spence, you’re a genius. do the math.”

for once, he didn’t have an answer to that.

“do you realize how difficult this could be for me as well? have you taken that into consideration?”

something about the way spencer said that made you cower back. he took note of that immediately, guilt becoming his primary emotion. you quickly regained your stature, already ready for what you would say next.

“go on then spencer. twist that knife and turn this one on me,” you spoke, your tone already raised.

everything finally set in during that moment. you had never fought, never like this anyway. you didn’t want to fight anymore, you just wanted this to be over. the environment in the apartment was already becoming suffocating.

it didn’t feel like home anymore.

somewhere you considered to be your safe place, a place where you spent more time than your own home was no longer somewhere you felt comfortable.

the rooms felt foreign even though you had been the only one occupying. they no longer felt warm with the family like feelings you had filled them with. it lacked something, something you didn’t even know was replaceable at this point.

looking around, you tried to mentally grasp on something, anything that would give you a good reason to stay. but there was nothing, not even one of your gifts for spencer that resided one his shelf.

they felt empty, no emotional ties to them whatsoever. any sense of the love you had always felt had slipped out of the cracks and into the open air, almost as if it was impossible to catch them.

you almost just wanted to go back to the start of it all, when you were still naive enough to not see the faults in your relationship. you were mature now, and faults were the only thing you were seeing.

spencer let out a heavy sigh. “what do you want me to do y/n? there’s nothing i can do to change this.”

that question alone ignited something inside of you.

“maybe you could have started by actually putting some effort into this relationship,” you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “because i’m exhausted of waiting for you and always being the one let down. besides, it’s too late anyway.”

spencer stood quietly across from you, arms crossed and looking at you with sad eyes. it was clear that you had more to say, and the last thing he wanted to do was add more fuel to the fire.

“do you even realize how terrifying it is to be dating you? i don’t know if you’re even alive half of the time and i hope, i truely hope that i get your usual text letting me know you’re on your way home,” you spoke, desperately trying to keep your tears down. “everytime i get a call or text from someone that’s not you i panic. because more times than none it’s about you getting hurt and i have to be there to pick up the pieces. and i know that’s part of a relationship, to be there for each other, but it’s not fair to me to not get the same in return.”

the weight of your words crashed down with an uncertainty to them as they processed in spencer’s brain.

you were shaking, that’s what he took note of first. your fingers dancing across your your arms in a small effort to calm yourself down.

“i uh, i don’t,” you stuttered. “i need to pack.”

just as you passed spencer, his hand came out to hold your wrist. it didn’t hurt by any means, just took you by suprise. however, you quickly shook out of his grip.

“don’t.”

spencer frowned. “i’m sorry.”

you stayed in place, not quite knowing what he needed you for. you just wanted to pack and bag and go home.

“can you at least stay the night?” spencer asked.

you agreed after a brief thought, that’s the minimum you owed him. you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t going to miss him. it was a prime example of wrong place, wrong time.

there was an almost serene silence between the two of you as you headed down the main hallway and towards spencer’s room.

few words were exchanged in the whole process of getting changed and brushing your teeth other then an occasional ‘excuse me.’ it was almost as if whatever either of you said would make the whole night worse.

when it was finally time for bed, you slid under the covers first. spencer lingered in the room, he would need to leave in a moment to check the apartment anyway.

“can we not talk about all this tonight?” you pleaded.

spencer nodded. “can we just make a deal before?”

“what is it?”

“if you decide that in the morning you want to give us another try, i’ll be here and we can try again. okay?”

the silence returned for a brief moment. spencer waited on, hoping that you would agree to what he asked.

“deal,” you answered quietly.

the lights went off after that, your only source cutting through the darkness being the nightlight in the hallway.

you kept your back to spencer as he too got in bed. to be honest, you really didn’t want him seeing the tears in the corners of your eyes that threatened to fall. were you really so distant that you wouldn’t even let him see you cry?

even in the dark, spencer could already tell something was wrong. he hovered behind you, not quite sure how you would react to him right now. “is this okay?” he questioned. “yeah.”

spencer tentatively reached down to rest his hand on your arm, running it back and forth for pure comfort. a gently kiss to your bare shoulder followed.

you curled into his touch, already shifting back to press your back to his stomach. spencer wrapped an arm around you; neither of you were quite sure if this would be your last night together.

“goodnight y/n.”

“goodnight spencer.”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @blakes-dictionxry @hurricanejjareau @ogmilkis @ssa-morgan @gublertoon @ah-blossom @emilyslefteyebrow @holding-on-to-my-youth @agentshortstacc @emilysprentisss @bxbyspxncer @blakeprentiss @goldenxreid

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of My League [Part 1]

Pairing: High school!Spencer Reid x Popular!Reader

Word count: 3.7k (god i don’t shut up do i)

Summary: Spencer begins tutoring you in chemistry, and the two of you bond (I would say no pun intended but fuck it that was GOOD so I’ll say pun intended)

Warning(s): Mentions of bullying, mental illness, some swearing, I made one joke about herpes??? sorry if thats a sore spot with anyone, light angst and pining, Reader POV

Author’s Note: Here it is, folks!! The first official part! I’ so grateful for all the feedback I got on the prologue, I’m glad y’all are liking it, I hope you like this part just as much!! Next part I’m gonna have some baby spencer, and by that I mean whole ass adult spencer that just looks baby

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

You absolutely despised chemistry. It’s boring. It’s simultaneously stupid and ridiculously complicated. You weren’t dumb, you were a decent student in all your other classes, but science was never your strong suit. You preferred literature over litmus paper any day. Unfortunately, your failing grade was bringing down your entire GPA, just below the requirement for you to stay on the cheerleading squad. Your coach recommended you get a tutor, or else you were off the team. So you went to the library to see the peer tutoring program, and all of them were booked. The next best thing would be the kid genius in your class. He was probably a better first choice, honestly, but you figured he’d be booked with other students too.

He wasn’t like other kids in your class, not just because he actually cared and was a good student, he was also twelve years old. The kid was a prodigy. He was bullied a lot because of this because no one really understood him. That’s probably why he looked so terrified when you approached him after class one day.

“Hey, Spencer!”

His eyes grew wide as he stared back at you, saying nothing.

“I was just wondering if you were available for tutoring?”

“Oh, uh, um, y-yeah, in chemistry?”

“Yeah, what are your rates like? Like say we do an hour every other day, how much would that be?”

“Oh! N-no charge.”

“Really?”

“The first couple of sessions can be a trial run, I don’t want your money if you’re not benefiting from it.”

That made you smile, this kid was so nice and you just wished that people actually cared about that instead of the dumb shit they bullied him for. Sure, he was skinny and short and dorky and you know, a literal twelve-year-old boy, but if someone would take time to know him, they’d see he’s a good kid.

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t wanna waste your time if you have other students.”

“I don’t, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Great! Are you free after school today?”

He nodded and avoided all eye contact before scurrying out of the room to his next class.

~~~

You met up later in the library. You greeted each other politely with simple hi’s and hey’s and nothing more. Then it was time to pour over your books for an hour and try to force the puzzle pieces into place and hope something finally clicked. Balancing molecular equations physically hurt. Just when you thought you got it all right, Spencer reminded you that you still had to balance the oxygen, which was always bonded with something else, which threw off the whole equation. Every time you made a mistake you just let out a groan and set your head on the table.

“It’s a lot of math, a lot of people have a hard time with it, don’t feel bad.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

“You’re not! It’s an easy mistake.”

“You don’t make mistakes like that.”

“That’s because I’ve been taking advanced math classes for the past two years, I’m good at this stuff.”

“You’re good at everything, you're a literal genius.”

“There are people who aren’t geniuses who are good at this sort of thing, just look at Johnny Abrams in our class. He answers every question Mrs. Gustin asks and I once saw him put his backpack on his car’s roof and start driving ‘cuz he forgot it was there. He’s just been practicing. That’s why we’re here, right?”

He always reassured you. Always told you that you weren’t stupid. You weren’t dumb. He always smiled when you got questions right and told you you were doing a good job. When your hour was up, you said goodbye and went home. 

Spencer’s mini lectures aside, most of your sessions were sparse in the conversation department. The first time he went off on a side about some chemistry facts, you couldn’t keep up. You just sat there, jaw hanging while he went into detail about saponification, which wasn’t even in this lesson.

“Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Did we learn that in class? Cuz if we did, I’m screwed.”

“No, not yet at least.”

“How do you just… know that?”

Spencer avoided your eyes once again, something he did more than spouting random facts, “I read a lot.”

That’s how it happened the first time. All it took was you asking one question about different types of reactions for him to launch into another spiel. You figured you’d have to know it at some point, so you started writing down whatever you could catch from his fast-paced speech, taking notes in bullet points.

“And that-- Oh. Y-You don’t need to do that, that’s not even on the curriculum.”

“Well, I gotta keep up with you somehow, right?” You glanced up from your page and flashed an almost challenging smirk as you saw him stifle a smile as he avoided all eye contact with you, as per usual. He then cleared his throat and got back to the actually assigned chapter.

The more he went off on tangents, the more he realized you weren’t stopping him. He was actually able to make chemistry sound interesting to you, which is strange, but it was easier to understand through how he explained it all. Something told you that he wasn’t used to having someone listen to what he said, because he just lit up when he talked about this stuff. He was clearly passionate about it, so why would you make him feel bad about it? He always apologized, but you always reassured him it was no big deal. 

You didn’t know it at the time, but the kid was falling hard. This pretty, older girl was paying attention to him and didn’t think he was annoying? The bar may have been on the floor for young Spencer, but you were perfect to him. Eventually, he was able to look you in the eyes when you spoke to one another, he even smiled at you when you joked with him. That was another thing: you joked with one another now. You both warmed up to one another as your sessions continued. You said hi to each other in the hallways, you ruffled his hair as a greeting, he accepted your high-five requests every time you got something right.

You still didn’t talk outside of class much, which is why he was caught so far off guard by you calling his name from across the cafeteria as you approached his table.

“Hey, dude! Is it cool if we squeeze in an extra session today? I got a test tomorrow.”

“Y-Yeah, no problem, but, uh, it’s Thursday. Don’t you have practice after school?”

You did. And you had to be there because you had a competition this weekend.

“Yeah, I was wondering if we could meet after?”

“When does it end?”

“Five.”

“Library closes at four.”

“I know, but would it be too much of a hassle if I just… Pick you up tonight and we head back to my house to study?”

You could physically see his brain shut down in his eyes. After he realized he needed to respond, he picked his jaw up off the floor and gulped hard.

“Or you can stay after and hang out at practice and I can just drive you home?”

“Y-Yeah, um, yeah, tha-that works, I can, uh, yeah, we can do that.”

Spencer brought his books and homework and tried his hardest to not make it obvious he was staring at you while you danced. You looked like you were having so much fun and he loved seeing you happy and smiling with your friends like that, it was hard for him to look away and focus long enough to read a sentence, which is saying something, considering it does not take him long to read a sentence. 

After practice wrapped up, you told him to go wait by your car while you changed out of your uniform. The girls in the locker room were talking just as loudly as always, only this time, it was about something you actually cared about hearing.

“I mean, really, what was that little creep doing watching us today?” You heard one girl sneer.

“So fucking gross, I don’t wanna know where his prepubescent head was.” Another girl laughed.

You had to step in. You had to say something.

“I’m his ride home. He’s my chemistry tutor and I have a test tomorrow, so back off the kid, he didn’t do shit to you anyway.”

The squad learned to watch their mouths around you after that.

~~~

The neon glow of the golden arches shone through your car’s windows as you pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru line.

“This isn’t your house,” noted Spencer, sounding confused.

You grinned, “Oh, shit… no way! Wow! I’m so glad my tutor is a genius! I would have never guessed this was not my family home!”

He let himself laugh for a moment, “Okay, okay, fine. Why are we here?”

“Uh… to get food? Duh.”

“But what about your food at home?”

“My mom’s visiting my dad, he works in D.C., and I haven’t gotten a chance to go grocery shopping this week, so I can’t cook for you. What do you want?”

“You don’t have to get me anything.”

“No, I insist, it’s almost dinner time. Lemme get you something. As a thank you for squeezing in an extra cramming sesh?”

“It’s fine! Really.”

“Hey, Reid, come on,” you attempt to stifle a stupid giggle as you gesture to the rather large window displaying the playroom inside, “you are a guest in my home!”

Spencer shakes his head and chuckles, but doesn’t dare let you think he found you funny, “I’ll have chicken nuggets.”

“Happy meal?”

He tried to look offended at your clarification, but he quickly dropped the facade, “Yes. Extra fries, please.”

“Of course, buddy.” You pulled up further to the ordering station, catching a glimpse at the menu and the ads they had displayed on it, “Oh no way! They have Strawberry Shortcake toys! I used to collect those when I was a kid!”

Spencer saw the look on your face and couldn’t help but smile at your childlike excitement, “Do you want my happy meal toy?”

You bit your lip and hesitated before throwing all shame to the wind and saying yes. Because it was Spencer. He got excited over chemistry, he had no right to judge you on your old Strawberry Shortcake doll collection.

After you got your food, you drove back to your house, and you ate together at your kitchen island while Spencer quizzed you on the last chapter. He had asked you eighteen questions so far, and you had answered all of them correctly. 

“Okay, this last one is for the Strawberry Shortcake--”

“Her name is Orange Blossom.”

“Whatever, this last one is for the Orange Blossom toy: Which type of reaction is represented by this equation?” He showed you his notebook where he had written a molecular equation.

“Substitution.”

“Correct! Now balance it.”

Your shoulders slouched as the pride drained from your body.

“Please don’t make me.”

“This is going to be on the test, Y/N, you have to know it.”

“What’s one wrong question, really?”

“You and I both know she’s not going to put just one balancing question on the test.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, grabbing a pencil and sliding his notebook closer to you. You worked it out after a few minutes, but everything looked right, and judging by Spencer’s proud grin, everything was.

He reached for the figurine, still in the plastic bag, and handed it to you, “You’re gonna do great tomorrow, Y/N.”

You took Orange Blossom from his hands and danced around the kitchen with it, overwhelmed with the sudden feeling of confidence you gained from nailing this practice session. You heard Spencer’s small laugh from behind you, causing you to turn around and face the boy as he lovingly mocked you.

Studying at your place became a regular thing after that, even when your mom was home. She loved him. She always invited him for dinner if she was home. He rarely took her up on the offer, but it was nice having him around the house with you. Study sessions turned into just plain hanging out. You spent more time bonding over Doctor Who than chemistry some nights, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~

When Alexa Lisben invited him to meet her at the football field you were skeptical. You had good reason to be. She was never very nice to you or Spencer. You were able to be civil with her for the sake of the cheerleading squad, but something about her just didn’t sit right with you. You tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen. He seemed offended at the notion that Alexa would do something horrible to him. How dare you imply that the only reason someone would be interested in him would be to pull a fucked up prank?

“I’m not like you, Y/N, I don’t have a line of people waiting around for a date, no one’s ever had a crush on me before, and-and now that someone other than you is being nice to me, you’re telling me that they have some sort of ulterior motive?”

“Spencer. I know these girls, I’ve seen the guys they go for--”

“And I’m not like them?”

“No! You’re a sweet kid, you’re nothing like those guys and they’re gonna take advantage of that.”

“I really wish everyone would stop saying I’m just a kid!”

“You’re not! That came out wrong--”

“Listen, Y/N, I’m going whether you want me to or not, so if you really want to keep babying me, by all means, stay after and wait with me.”

“I don’t wanna baby you!”

“So stop it!”

You didn’t want to fight with him anymore, you weren’t his mother. “Ok, Spencer, fine. I’m sorry. You should go. How about you meet me in the library after and you can tell me all about it over McDonald’s? My treat.”

He warmed up and agreed.

So you waited in the library until four, and then you started to get worried. You went to grab something from your gym locker before you left to look for him and heard some girls from the squad gossiping about “the little dork.” Your blood started to boil as you heard the way they talked about Spencer. Your jaw only clenched harder as you recognized one of the girls’ voices as Alexa Lisben’s.

You poked your head around the lockers that divided the aisles and tried to manage a calm voice, “Hey Alexa? Spencer actually said he was meeting up with you today, do you know where he is?”

She just laughed and said, “I can’t believe you actually care about that loser.”

“He’s my friend.” All attempts to remain level-headed were tossed aside, “Where the fuck is he, what did you do to him?”

You could feel yourself starting to cry. It’s your fault, you weren’t there, you tried to warn him, but now you don’t know where he is or what he’s thinking or--

“Check the field.”

You sprinted out to the football field and saw him stripped down to his briefs, blindfolded, and tied to a goal post. You could kill Alexa. You actually considered turning right around and unleashing hell on that locker room, but your friend needed help. He was crying so hard he didn’t hear you coming until you called his name. You immediately went to untie him and grab his clothes from the fence beside him.

“You were right.” He sniffled, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m not mad, I’m sorry, I should have been there, I could have helped you--”

“No, you couldn’t. There were too many people.”

“How many were there? Who did this?”

“Y/N, please--”

“No, Spencer, tell me what happened.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!”

You know when to stop, so you just shut your mouth while he got dressed, “Get in the car, I’m taking you home.”

You didn’t say a word to him as he buckled his seatbelt and you could tell he appreciated it. You just drove to McDonald’s and got him his usual. You parked in the parking lot and ate your food in almost silence, save for the radio in the background.

“You don’t have to tell me what exactly happened, you could pretend none of this ever happened, I won’t mind, it’s okay, but I just need you to know, Spencer, say the word and she’s dead. I have so much dirt on her, you have no idea, I can destroy her.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay, I won’t. At least give me names. I will personally make sure none of those boys ever get a date again.”

“Y/N, please.”

“I’m serious, I’ll tell everyone they have herpes.”

“I know you are and that’s what scares me, please don’t, I don’t wanna make things worse.”

You decide to drop it because if he doesn’t wanna talk about it, he needs a distraction.

After you finish your food, you ask him “Your house or mine?”

“Yours. Please.”

You drove back to your house and got yourselves set up on the couch in front of the TV, turning on an episode of Doctor Who that you had recorded. You made him popcorn as he curled up on your couch, clutching a pillow. You were mostly quiet for the rest of the night, but when you did talk, it was to ask him a question about the show or if any of the science was accurate. It was the best you could do to keep him mind off things. Eventually, he fell asleep and you felt too bad to wake him. He got up by himself around midnight, jolting awake as if from a nightmare, and considering how the last few hours had been for him, it probably was one.

“Hey, bud, I’m here, it’s me.” You didn’t touch him, knowing he got overstimulated sometimes when he got really stressed, but he felt around for you on the couch next to him, needing to know you were really there this time. You patted his hand when it reached across the cushion for you.

“What time is it?”

“Way too late for you to be here, let’s get you home.”

He nodded, slowly rising to his feet and looking for his backpack, which you reminded him he had left in the car. Your hand hovered above his head for a moment before he lazily drifted into you as he walked. You took this as an okay to touch him, so you ruffled his hair before loosely slinging an arm around his shoulders as you guided him to your car.

The drive back to Spencer’s wasn’t too long, thankfully, because you were sure his parents would be furious with him and the kid’s been through enough today. You wanted to take all the heat without making them think you kidnapped him. The lights were still on when you pulled into the driveway. They were probably worried sick about him.

When you knocked on the door, a frantic woman with short blonde hair opened it. When she saw Spencer, she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into the house, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Who are you? What are you doing with my son?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong, Mrs. Reid. I’m Y/N, he’s been tutoring me.”

“How do you know me? Spencer, what did you tell her?” She looked at him and back at you, “Get off my property and stay away from us!”

“Mom, she’s a fr--”

“Go up to your room, don’t come out.” She didn’t sound like an angry parent reprimanding her son, she sounded almost... scared.

A million alarms were going off in your head, and you needed to try to get through to her, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, he was helping me study and we lost track of time, it’s not his fault.”

“I don’t care, I don’t know you, get off my property!”

You decided it was best not to argue, so you hurried back to your car and drove home as quickly as possible so you could shower and go to bed and pray that Spencer would be okay tonight.

~~~

Your phone rang early the next morning. You rolled out of bed to answer it, sprinting to the hall table to take it off the stand. Checking the caller ID, you realized it was from a number you didn’t recognize. Answering it, you heard Spencer’s voice on the other side.

“Hello, this is Spencer, is Y/N home?”

“Yes, you woke me up on a Saturday morning, where else am I gonna be, kid?” Your voice was scratchy as you struggled to fight off the sleep still clawing at your throat.

“Sorry about that. I was just calling to apologize for last night.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“N-No, I’m not in trouble, I just wanted to explain why my mother was all--”

“She was worried, I get it.”

“N- she… My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, she doesn’t do well with strangers. She doesn’t even remember what she said to you last night, she was having one of her episodes. She was just confused.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You were so shocked by his sudden revelations, you just stayed silent. You didn’t want him to think he scared you, so you had to say something. And apparently, that something was “Oh.”

“She wanted to apologize, but she’s just a bit embarrassed, so I called for her.”

“N-No, it’s okay, I…” It was suddenly so hard to say you understood because while it made sense to you, you wouldn’t fully understand what he or his mom was going through, you didn’t understand it, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind. He was just glad it didn’t bother you. After the events of yesterday, he couldn’t afford to lose you.

“Tell her I’m sorry I scared her.”

“Will do. She said you could come over so she could apologize personally and meet her if you want.”

“I’d love to. And Spence?”

You felt him take pause. You never called him that before, “Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t wanna scare you.”

“You wouldn’t scare me, dude, you can tell me anything.”

“Really?”

“I promise. I’ll see you Monday?”

Spencer nodded, but you couldn’t see him, so he spoke up through the lump in his throat, “See you Monday.”

Taglist ~~~~~~

(Lmk if you wanna be added!!)

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @baby-pogue @rottenearly

[fruitcoops]

I combined two asks for this one since they fit so well together and it’s quite long. Thanks for the suggestions! Credit for Sweater Weather characters goes to the incredible @lumosinlove​!

TW for mild panic and self-blame

Prompt 31: “He’s not answering his phone”

Prompt 45: “It’s bad again. It’s really, really bad again”

“He’s not answering his phone.”

“Still?”

James slipped his cell phone into his pocket. Remus’ eyes were trained on the floor, as they had been since his arrival. “Look, Loops, you remember what he was like before. You know him better than any of us. I think—I think you might be a little too close to this, though.”

“Too close?” Remus snorted without humor. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Loops, c’mon.” James sat next to him on the couch, but Remus refused to make eye contact. “Remus. You know how Sirius deals with his problems. He shuts down and pushes everyone away because he feels like he has to be perfect all the time, even though we tell him every fuckin’ day how much he means to us. It’s just—with you, he doesn’t do that.”

“He’s never like that with me,” Remus muttered. James remained silent. “Not—not since the airport. He promised.”

And, shit, if that didn’t just break James’ heart. He wanted to be angry at Sirius: who gave him the right to cause his loved ones so much stress? That day at the airport, leading a shaking and shell-shocked Remus away by the shoulders, had been once of the worst of James’ life. “I know, that’s why I’m worried about you.”

“36.” Remus’ voice was so quiet that James almost missed it.

“What?”

“I called him 36 times while he was at All-Stars and he didn’t answer a single one. He swore he would never do that to me again.” Remus let out a trembling breath and James placed his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Fuck, I’m not even angry, I’m just scared.”

“Me, too,” James confessed. Sirius’ instinct to run may have helped him survive for the first twenty-odd years of his life, but it wreaked havoc on his new support system. “Do you want me to try again?” Remus shook his head. “I can call Coach and see if he’s at the rink?”

“I already sent him a text, and Moody,” Remus said, running a hand through his hair. There was a gentle clacking noise and Hattie appeared around the door with her head cocked to the side. She wagged her tail and trotted over to them, then rested her head on Remus’ knees with a low whine. “Hey, babycakes. James, you don’t have to stay here with me.”

“I want to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I know what this feels like and I don’t think either of us should be alone right now or we’ll both worry ourselves into a spiral.”

“That’s fair.”

They sat in silence for a moment. James had knocked on Sirius’ door in the hours after the photos were released until his hands and feet when numb from cold, and he wasn’t looking forward to trudging through parks all afternoon to track him down. He knew he would never understand the urge to self-isolate and couldn’t blame Sirius for his shitty upbringing, but he wished his best friend had a better way to deal with his feelings.

He was about to suggest turning on the radio to distract themselves when Remus’ phone rang, startling them both with the volume. Remus scrambled to answer, his eyes wide. “Sirius?” There was a low buzzing noise on the other end and he frowned. “Dumo? Are you—who?”

Sirius? James mouthed. Remus nodded. Thank god. He leaned back against the couch and let out a long, slow breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding. If Sirius was with Dumo, he would be safe. He kicked himself a little for not thinking to check there as well, but they had no time to waste on self-pity.

“Pots and I will be there in twenty,” Remus said. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Pascal.”

James’ had the car running by the time Remus got his shoes on and let Hattie into the backyard. “I’m driving,” he said before Remus could protest. ���You get to take deep breaths and focus on not strangling your fiancé when we get there, okay?”

“Got it.” Remus reached over and stopped James’ fingers from tapping on the steering wheel. “If you’re driving, you’re not allowed to freak out either.”

A knock on the front door startled Pascal Dumais out of his algebra-induced haze. He had been a decent student in school, but Adele’s math homework was a whole new level of confusing that he was not nearly prepared enough to review with her. There was another knock, harder and more frantic than before, and he frowned. The team always called before they came over, and solicitors rarely stopped by.

Adele raised an eyebrow, but cleared her stuff off the table and headed up to her room as Dumo went to the door. “Bonj—oh, mon fils.”

“It’s bad again,” Sirius said quietly. He was blinking fast and his hands flexed like he wanted to reach for something. “It’s really, really bad again.”

“Come inside.” Dumo opened the door the rest of the way and led Sirius into his office, away from any possible disruptions or unwelcome eyes. He had total faith in his family’s ability to comfort and support, but this was not the first time Sirius had come to him for help. He needed space to work through whatever was going on. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he croaked, swallowing thickly. “I wish I did, but it came out of nowhere. I was just thinking about how lucky I am now and then I remembered that I left Reg with them and he got hurt because of it.”

“Sirius, look at me,” Dumo said gently. “When did this start?”

“An hour ago? Maybe two?” He shook his head. “Time is…hard, when I get like this.”

“What did Remus say?” Sirius remained silent. “Mon fils, did you tell him what’s going on?”

“No.”

“Why?” A murmured answer. “Pardon?”

“He has enough to worry about. His parents are visiting in a week, and he hasn’t been sleeping, and he’s stressed about the Knights game—”

“Arrête.” Sirius’ jaw closed with a snap and he looked up with guilty eyes. “Remus loves you, of course he’ll be worried about you.”

More misery darkened Sirius’ face and Dumo reached for his hands. “Fuck, I left again. I promised I wouldn’t do that.”

“Has he called?”

“I put my phone on silent. The ringtone…” he gestured vaguely at his ears. Headache.

“Hold on while I get you some water. I’m going to call Remus and tell him where you are, alright? Just so he knows you’re safe.” Dumo stood up, but paused by the door. “He’s going to want to come and see you. C’est bon?”

Sirius sniffled. “Ouais.”

Celeste was waiting for him in the living room with concern etched all over her beautiful face. “Il est bon?”

“Oui, mon amour. Thinking about Regulus and his parents again.” Dumo kissed her forehead and she held him tight around the chest. For all her softness, her love was fierce. “He didn’t tell Remus where he went.”

She made a heartbroken noise. “That poor boy. Should I call?”

“Non, je vais.” Dumo let her go with one more kiss and dialed Remus’ number. He had barely lifted it to his ear when the line connected.

“Sirius?”

“Sirius just showed up at my front door.”

“Dumo? Are you—who?”

“Sirius. He’s having a rough time and mentioned that you didn’t know where he was, so I figured I’d call.”

“What happened? I was taking a nap and when I woke up, he was gone. James has been here for half an hour. We couldn’t get ahold of him. Can we come over?”

“Of course. I think he needs you more than me right now.”

“Pots and I will be there in twenty.” There was a moment’s pause on the other end, where Remus’ anxious breathing crackled. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Pascal.”

“Anything for my boys, eh?” Remus laughed weakly and the call ended with a click. Dumo made sure to keep his ringer on as he put his phone back in his pocket and went to get water from the kitchen.

“Is Sirius okay?” Adele asked from the doorway. “He seemed upset.”

“He’s feeling better now, mon chou. He just needed someone to talk to.”

Adele tugged the end of her braid, an old habit from when she was younger and tried to grow her hair out like Rapunzel. “Are he and Remus fighting?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. Remus makes him happy.”

Dumo smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Oui, he does.”

Eighteen minutes and three glasses of water later, Sirius had calmed down enough that his chest didn’t hitch with every inhale. The rapid knock on the door startled them both; Dumo saw some of the guilt return to his face and made a mental note to kick Orion Black in the back of the knees the next time he showed his face. Sirius was a good man down to the bone and he deserved to be able to live without regret over things he couldn’t control.

“Sirius?” His shoulders sagged as Remus’ voice floated in from the hall and Dumo patted his forearm.

“In here.”

Remus appeared half a second later, flushed from the cold, and nearly collapsed against the doorframe when he saw them. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Sirius confirmed, but his tone wobbled on the second word and he scrunched his nose up. Remus crossed the room in three steps and wrapped him in a hug, squeezing his eyes shut as Sirius buried his face in his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry.”

A strangled huff punched out of Sirius’ chest and a tear trickled down Remus’ cheek. “I know. I know you’re not, and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Dumo stood up walked silently into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a nod to James. This conversation was not for anyone else’s ears.

[omgrachwrites]

Butterflies - Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: When you make up with your best friend and longtime crush after a fight, your other best is determined to see the two of you together.

Warnings: lil bit of angst, fluff, mutual pining

Words: 1215

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this one! There will be a second part coming out next week! Please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx

The cold New York air blew through your hair as you fought back the hot tears that threatened to spill from your eyes and you swallowed down the lump in the back of your throat. Rage, betrayal and most of all, sadness filled your chest and you almost suffocated from the weight of it as you sat alone in Central Park. You couldn’t believe that your best friend hadn’t told you his biggest secret. You had found out with the rest of the world. Did you mean nothing to him?

“Y/N?” a worried voice called out, breaking you from your thoughts, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, and I’ve been so worried about you! Are you okay?”

You turned to glare at Peter, faltering a little when you saw how frantic his eyes looked and his hair was messier than usual, like he’d been running his fingers through it. He had a pizza box in his hands it was from your favourite pizza place and it smelled amazing but you weren’t going to give in that easily.

“How could you not tell me Peter? The most important thing to happen to you and you didn’t tell me. Why? Why didn’t you tell me that you were Spider-Man? Did you think that I couldn’t handle it or something?”

Peter sighed as he sat beside you on the bench and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, playing with the ends of your hair. You longed to lean into his warm chest and let him tell you that everything was going to be alright. It was hard but you resisted it, you resisted him, no matter how much your heart was aching for him.

“No, Y/N, of course I didn’t think that,” he tutted, “you could have handled it better than me, to tell you the truth, I panicked,” he chuckled nervously and your icy heart thawed just a little at the sound of it, “but I have lots of enemies now and I didn’t want to see you get hurt. All I’ve ever wanted to do was protect you and keep you safe.”

That answer would have soothed you if he had kept it a secret from everyone else, but he hadn’t, “you told Ned and MJ,” you pointed out, “I guess ten years of friendship means nothing to you,” you pouted, feeling sorry for yourself.

“Oh, Y/N. Please don’t say that, our friendship means everything to me,” he hesitated, “you mean everything to me,” you ignored the way your heart leapt at his statement, “and besides, Ned caught me coming in wearing the suit and MJ, well she figured it out for herself.”

You snorted out a little laugh as you shook your head, MJ was just too smart for her own good, “so, will you forgive me? Please Y/N, I never meant to hurt you and I know that I should have told you, you deserved to know. What do I have to do for you to forgive me?” he gave you his best sparkling brown puppy dog eyes and you sighed as you felt yourself relent.

You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, it just hadn’t been coded into your DNA, “I’ll forgive you if I can have a slice of that pizza, it smells incredible,” you smiled at him and he threw his head back with a laugh as he ran a hand through his messy curls.

“Go on, help yourself, I did get it for you after all, to sweeten my apology,” he beamed as he opened the box.

Again, you ignored the way your heart fluttered, it was only pizza, even if it was the most delicious you’d ever tasted. You and Peter talked and joked together – things really did feel back to normal – as you both finished the box of pizza.

When it got too late Peter walked you back home and pulled you into a tight hug outside of your front porch, “I really missed you, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair. Later on that night you fell into bed with a beaming smile and a flutter in your stomach, you were so glad that you were friends with him again. You were so glad that your stubbornness didn’t permanently damage your friendship.

The following day at school you met MJ by her locker and she was very relieved that you and Peter were friends again, “thank god you two are friends again, though the pining is only slightly better than you not speaking to him at all.”

You laughed nervously as you walked down the corridor with your friend, “I-I um don’t know what you’re talking about, there’s no pining,” you babbled as MJ stared at you with her eyebrow raised, “oh god, is it that obvious?”

MJ shook her head with a smirk, “no, I only know because I know you so well, you’ve got a tell when you like someone, you play with the ends of your hair.”

“You are way too smart for your own good,” you let out an exasperated laugh as you walked into Math class.

“Oh trust me, I know,” she lowered her voice, “so how long have you held a torch for Parker then?”

You sighed and looked over to where Peter was smiling and talking with Ned and you felt that familiar fluttering sensation in your stomach, “I’ve liked Peter for a long time, even when I thought boys were gross,” you giggled but it hurt because you were sure that he didn’t feel the same, that beautiful brave boy didn’t feel the same, “if only he felt the same.”

MJ snorted and shook her head, “oh my sweet summer child, you are so oblivious,” you frowned at her as she fell silent as class began. You made a mental note to ask her about it later on.

In study hall you could hardly keep your eyes off of him as he sat opposite you, you watched the way he bit his bottom lip and frowned in concentration as he scrawled something down. Though he didn’t catch you looking. In turn, you didn’t catch him looking at you as you read the required book for English, you didn’t notice the way he looked at you as you played with the ends of your hair and leaned back on your chair. Peter gulped and flushed before he shook himself out of it and got back down to work.

The only two people who noticed the mutual pining looks were your best friends Ned and MJ who exchanged amused looks and rolled their eyes. It was a marvel to them how oblivious you both were.

At the end of study hall Peter caught up to and you and MJ, slightly out of breath with flushed cheeks. MJ smirked at you as she gave you a little wave and carried on up the corridor as you stopped and looked at Peter.

“What are you up to tomorrow night?”

“Erm,” you hesitated, thinking about it for a second, “nothing, why?”

“Will you meet me at my apartment, around half six?” he grinned and you felt your cheeks redden.

“Sure,” you stuttered with a smile, wondering what he wanted to meet you about. You couldn’t ignore the thrill of excitement that shot through you.

------

@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black

[fakeloveaskblog]

Hi Logan, how do I even start? Save this number, if you want to. I have been supporting Remy through texts for a bit. They have revealed to me some very troubling things in the past. Things like, their boyfriend kicking their cane from under them as a ‘joke’? Those kinds of things.

Virgil, that's his name by the way, also kind of yells at them a lot at times, and tells them they're worthless except for the use he can give to their body and that nobody else will ever love them. They believe they are horrible. They believe they deserve it. They appear to think their disability makes them only a burden to him and nothing else and while I have tried to convince them to the contrary I honestly don't believe I can when they're still trapped by choice in such a toxic environment.

I have tried to help and give them the tools to better their self-esteem and combat that, and send them nice text messages in general, but that hasn't helped in anything more than a superficial level. If you can do something, anything, or could take their case to someone who can something, I'd really appreciate that.

(Words: 2088)

(Talk of U!Virgil)

Logan: "That is...That is" He took a moment to gather himself "That is even worse than I had estimated"

"This must have been happening the other times we met them too right? And we didn't notice anything. We should have- we-" Patty mumbled out. Her voice was shaky.

She had just gotten home half an hour ago or so, she wasn't even fully out of her cosplay makeup. Logan had immediately pulled her into a hug which wasn't uncommon but he'd held onto her so hard it hurt and he’d been close to collapsing into the hug.

All it took was her asking if he was alright for him to tell her everything. He couldn't keep a secret from her even if he tried.

Now they sat in the couch. Logan had his head leaned on her chest and she had moved her arms around his waist. All they'd eaten was some of the leftover pie from Lo's date a few days ago because both of them were far too worked up to even think about cooking.

Patty pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to think "Okay well if they're being emotionally abused as what we know suggest then...I..is there even anyone we can contact that could help. I mean there's no- there's no evidence right? Or well- it's just- it's their word against Virgil's and if they won't even say Virgil is abusing them then there's nothing!"

"We can kidnap them" Logan pointed out.

"That we can"

Logan sighed “Do you think talking to them would even make a difference? They seem to already hate me so now it’s even less likely that they’ll listen”

“Well honey you can always try. They go to the same therapist as Janus right? So you can just casually ‘run into them’ right?” She gave him a loving kiss “I know my lil smarty-sweetheart can help them”

He sent her a tired smile “I’ll try”

--

Remy wasn’t as upset from the therapy session as they usually were. It had mostly been discussing how they felt about maybe being poly. They still thought they deserved a smoke break afterwards though so now they sat on bench right outside the entrance, they were on their third cigarette.

They had their head leaned against the back of the bench and was looking up at the greying sky and falling leaves so they didn’t notice when Logan sat down. He kept his distance to not startle them but cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Are you also waiting for someone?” He asked.

They glanced over to him “Girl go fuck yourself with a rake”

“Noted. I will put it in my calender. I for one am here to pick up Janus after his therapy is over for the day. Mayhaps I will show him some more star trek”

“Okay great gal. Then I’m just like waiting for Remus I guess” They pressed the cigarette into their leather jacket to put it out so they could leave as soon as they saw their cru- friend.

Logan inched closer “Is your bruise healing well?”

“Just ‘cause we’re in the same place doesn’t mean we have to talk to each other!” They snapped back.

“Exscuse me, I was simply worried about your physical health”

They rolled their eyes and crossed their arms before mumbling out “It’s fine. It’s whatever. I haven’t done it again so like forget it” 

“I am relieved to hear that”

Silence fell over them. Remy refused to look at him. Logan tried to figure out what was the best way to ask them about Virgil.

“....Your boyfriend did not insult you once you came home right?” He asked them in such a soft tone as if any slight wrong saying would make them implode on themself.

“Girl there you go again with your stupid fucking bullshit. I don’t wanna like talk about it!....Not ‘cause anything happened but ‘cause I hate you! You don’t- we don’t- we’re not friends! Why are you just like forcing yourself in on my private life! It’s like- it’s like fucking stalking!”

Logan reached out his hand to comfort them but quickly stopped himself “I am sorry. I don’t know how to best formulate this but I sincerely don’t mean to upset you like, neither do I know how to not upset you. All I know is that I want you to be okay and that if my partner treated me like yours seem to do I wouldn’t be able to stay”

Remy’s hair fell in front of their face as they leant their head in their plams “You don’t get it” They muttered.

“I am sure I don-”

“IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING EASY! It’s not like I have any savings an-and I’m not able to keep a job and without Virgil I have no way to buy medicine and- Like do you just want me to walk out and become homeless and like starve to death? Is that it? Like even if I wanted to leave, which I don’t, It’s not like I have a choice!”

A quiet sniffle came from them. Logan gave them a moment to gather their breathe.

“I...I didn’t mean to make it sound like leaving was easy” Logan murmured “I understand that you have probably been forced to think like you have no choice but to stay. I am aware of how crippling manipulation like that can be” 

He leaned closer and even though they didn’t look at him he still sent them his most caring look as he continued.

“But I promise you that there are other options. You aren’t stuck. I am willing to let you stay at my apartment for however long you need and if you aren’t comfortable with that I am sure Janus or Remus would let you stay as well. I can even pay for a motel if that would be better. Depending on what part of your disability is making you unable to work I am sure that could be fixed. For example a wheelchair could help! My point is that you do have a choice, even if it’s very understandably hard to think that”

Remy’s shoulders were shaking. Logan gently placed his hand on top of their bony shoulder. Every vein was visible through their light skin.

At just the hint of his touch they flinched away. They stumbled up from the bench and took a few steps away. They looked at him with reddened eyes.

“No. No. Girl you- you just don’t get it! That’s all!” They spat out, their voice was shaky as well “You haven’t like lived with me. Once you or Remus o-or anyone spends enough time with me you’ll realize what an annoying overemotional burden I am! An-and then I’ll get thrown out! Okay!? So-so it’s not really- I don’t actually have a choice ‘cause I’ll just get thrown out. Virgil is the only who will ever bother to deal with me for this long! ‘cause he loves me! And no one else will love me like he does. S-so just shut up!”

Logan stood up as well and took an unsure step towards them. They looked so weak, as if a single push from the wind would make them crumble. 

“It’s okay. I hear what you are saying” Logan assured.

“An-and it’s like- Virgil needs me! And I need him! That’s like how it works! I can’t just leave him! What if- who will calm him down from his panic attacks?! And if I leave what if he gets s-so upset and like anxious he hurts himself! He’s said there was a chance he would!! I can’t risk it! I have to stay! He needs me! I-I need- I can’t- I can’t leave”

Logan nodded along “It’s okay. I understand. I understand”

“You don’t! You’re a idiotic bitch! I hope all your stupid fucking ties get destroyed in the washer!” Remy was close to yelling.

“Harsh but I see your point. To be honest everything you have said has made me even more worried. From my experience a relationship shouldn’t make you feel this way! It shouldn’t make you come up with reasons to stay! It shouldn’t hurt you!” Logan reached out to comfort them once more. “I promise it shouldn’t hurt”

“It’s not hurting me! YOU are hurting me!”

Logan was taken aback. He didn’t know what to say. His arms moved to hang helplessly along his sides. Remy opened their mouth to say something more but then

“Hey uh what’s going on? Are you roleplaying a death match?” Remus stood in the entrance to the building. He glanced between the two of them.

“This idiot is trying to destroy my relationship!” Remy exclaimed.

“While it is not my place to explain the full situation without their permission I can assure you that I am merely worrying for their mental and physical health and I am unsure if their relationship is good for them from what I’ve heard” Logan explained.

Remus barely even hesitated before moving in front of Remy. He moved his arms out and let them lean against him to catch their breathe, like he was a human shield protecting them from Logan. 

Logan hadn’t seen Remus angry before and he didn’t look fully enraged, but there was a hint of anger in eyes as he sneered at him.

“Well I’m sorry Loganson but not every relationship is totally perfect and works without any arguments like you and your wife relationship apparently does!” He spat out.

“I can assure you that me and my wife’s relationship hasn’t been argument free but that doesn’t mean I have ever even thought about insulting her like Remy’s boyfriend seemingly ha-”

“You’re not Remy!” Remus snapped “You’re a guy who dresses like a 40 year old math teacher who is losing the children in the divorce! Leave them alone!” 

Remy was bordering on cowering behind Remus. Their whole body seemed to shake as a few tears spilled down their cheeks. They met Logan’s eyes.

“If the bullshit you’re saying is true, which it like isn’t but if it was that- that means I’ve spent my whole life being abused” They forced out through tears “How can you Ever you expect me to live with that?”

Logan didn’t have an answer to that. He watched on as Remus placed his hands on Remy’s shoulders and gently guided them to turn away. He bonked their foreheads together and wiped their tears away.

“C’mon beanie-boo I can take you to the amusement park to cheer you up! Or we can find some lsd and get high so you can hallucinate beating the shit out of the stinky Log guy!” Remus exclaimed as they walked away.

A headache began to form in Logan’s head as he slumped back down on the bench. He stared out at the nearly empty parking lot. He didn’t understand what he did wrong. 

He wished he could talk to Virgil. He wished he could see him eye to eye and chew him out for ever making Remy feel like a burden, for ever making them feel trapped. A part of him wanted to punch him.

He was so zoned out into the overthinking he didn’t realize how much time was passing until Janus got out from his therapy session. As soon as Jan saw his boyfriend he let up into a shining smile and hurried over to him.

“Hi dear! Aww did you miss me so much you had to come pick me up! How charming!” Janus hesitated before kissing Logan on the lips. It still made him all giggly.

Normally seeing him so giddy would have made Logan overabundant with happiness....but now all he could think about was if he should tell Janus about Remy’s situation or not. They were friends right? Could it help? Would they listen to their friend?

Logan’s head hurt so bad. None of it made sense. There was no logical answer. How Janus reacted could make everything worse. He didn’t want to ruin everything more than he already had.

“Darling? Are you feeling alright? Has something happened?” Janus asked while taking his hand.

“I....I....” Logan looked over to you.

Logan: “I am so sorry to do this but do you have any idea what to do? The human emotion and it’s reactions are so illogical I don’t- I don’t understand- I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry- Should I tell Janus about the suspected abuse or should I lie?”