#this is what i get for doing nothing but build legos while having bad posture wtf :[

[kadens-a-bee]

how is my favorite loser doing today?/p/lh/j

Tummy and back hurts help help help help help h

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part eleven ~ wank material and how to get canceled ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight) (part nine) (part ten) (part eleven)

A/N: Back at it again. Thank you for 160 followers; do enjoy and take care of yourself! Send a Message/Ask to make my day!

Summary: Alex screws up a lot. 

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Lots of Language. Implied Domestic Abuse. Heavy Self-Deprecation. 

Word Count: 2.9k    BLUE TEXT = FLASHBACK

It is a small world. Or at least that is how the saying goes. For example: I happened to have dog-walked for a woman who turns out to be your aunt? Huh, small world.

The world is meant to be small, with everyone just six degrees of separation from one another. 

A lot can happen between six degrees – an ice cube melts,  a steak is cooked well done instead of medium,  a person dies of an unexplained fever.

Sometimes Alex’s world did feel small, constrictingly small like it was caving in on him. But more often than not, it was he who felt small and the world a vast sea – an endless horizon. And he was stranded on a raft in the middle of it. Splashing along with the waves, going wherever the wind wished to take him. Wondering if he would ever be found (if anyone was even searching for him) or if he was destined to drown in the deep dark waters. 

Alex shook his head, and he was back in the present moment. Sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Gripping a controller with his clammy hands, playing LEGO Star Wars with George. Although their characters appeared to be working together in perfect sync, Alex was not actually focusing on the screen. His eyes were, but his mind drifted like that raft on the sea, drifted to earlier that morning.

It rained briefly; when the early morning hours came, everything outside smelled of wet, and the scent seeped in through cracks in the sealing around the windows.

Y/N stirred in Alex’s arms, squirmed out of his gentle hold, and sat up. Shining through the glass door of the balcony was the pale blue of the moon illuminating her features – a pastel recolouring which further softened the curves and lines of her face.

Her unadjusted eyes appeared confused at her surroundings as she looked around. Planting her hands flat on the cushion on either side of her lap exposed her bruised forearm. Each circular mark was darker than it had been when she fell asleep. Alex noticed some quarter or half of the beads on her bracelet matched those bruises in colour – he was not sure how to feel about that.

A shy closed-mouth smile took Y/N’s lips as her eyes landed on Alex. If she were concerned about his contemplative somewhat doleful expression, she hid it well. “You’re warm.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked. It was dizzying, swimming in the lovesick haze of such an odd compliment

“Like sleeping on one of those blankets, you have to plug in – softer though.” 

“Probably more lippy as well.”

“I think that’s fair,” her words fizzled out with a giggle.

Pupils dilated in the dim lighting; Alex had never more resembled the pleading puppy eyes emoji. High on that feeling, he got whenever Y/N looked deep into the depths of him. Like the last piece of his puzzling life was being set into place. Like it was them. Always meant to be them. Together.

He just wished he dared to speak more.

“Jump! What are you doing?” George burst out, bringing Alex back for a moment.

“Sorry.” He had felt it all over again – how anxious he was to speak; how dead his tongue was in his mouth. As if every moment with Y/N was it for him. His one shot. And if he did not say the right thing or if his voice wavered, then it would be over for him. Finished.

Or maybe he would not have to speak at all, and he would lose his chance before he even opened his mouth. His big mouth – his friends would add, and in truth, so would he.

George cleared his throat and asked, “Did you remember to message Simon about the party?”

“Yeah, yesterday. And Tobi got back to me, said he’s coming.”

“Would’ve been easier to have done a group message for them.”

Sighing a short but exhausted sounding sigh, Alex agreed, “Maybe.”

“And Sammy’s coming?” George looked over for a split-second to see his flatmate nod his head; a tight smile plastered on his face. “Good.”

Another moment of comfortable calm washed over Alex and Y/N when something in Y/N’s gaze pulled back – became hesitant – and moved down to her hands. She picked up a crumpled deliveroo receipt from off the coffee table and began fidgeting with it. “If you—” 

Y/N stopped as her phone lit up; the notification was silent, but the light of the screen was visible through the pocket of her jeans. While pulling it out, she unmuted it to an eruption of DING. DING. DING. There were a lot of missed calls and texts, enough that she had to scroll twice up to see them all.

All Alex could read from his spot on the sofa (without wanting to appear as if he was reading over Y/N’s shoulder) was a text message in all caps reading ANSWER ME.

Thumbs hovered above the phone, not typing nor even moving to unlock to the home screen. Her back straightened, and her posture tensed. Eyes not leaving the screen, she said, “It’s Sam. I need to go.”

“That’s all Sammy? It’s a tad overkill, don’t you think?”

“No, he’s just worried.” Y/N took to her feet. Stepping around the coffee table, she beelined to where she left her shoes near the front door. “I don’t—I should have been checking in.”

Alex stood and followed. “Is he that upset? Genuinely?”

She flicked her hand dismissively before using it to pull on her shoes. Keeping her eyes down. “Of course not. It’s just frustrating when he can’t reach me is all.”

“Still…it’s a bit much.”

“And what? You’ve never been frustrated like that with someone?”

“No,” his projection of the word a startling thundercrack in the otherwise civil conversation.

It had not been confidence, though. Not real confidence. Alex had been scared, and he did not like being scared nor admitting to being scared, but he had been.  Frightened because he did not know how to handle the situation.  Terrified that he might have been losing himself. 

Liking Y/N made him nervous; made him protective. And he could not control it.

Y/N looked to him, and he would have to have been blind to not see the bewilderment that came to her eyes at his change in tone. Alex was just so sick and tired of allowing himself and his concerns to be played off. Always feeling like he was screaming to be heard, but no one cared to listen.  

He spoke stern and definite, “No. I’ve never been so agitated with someone that I screamed at them for a near hour. It’s not normal. I’ve certainly, never punched through—” 

DING. DING. Before he could finish, Y/N dropped her head to her phone.

Alex sighed, exhausted, and asked, “He’s still going, isn’t he?”

“Like I said,” Y/N looked up, and coming back into the conversation as if nothing happened, reasoned in a gentle – borderline condescending – tone, “he’s worried about me.”

“No, he’s not. If he were worried, wouldn’t he have gone looking for you?”

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“Where else would you have gone, but here? Does he let you have other friends?”

Taking a step from him, Y/N shook her head like she could shake herself awake and out of the situation – like it was a dream. She asked, “Where is this coming from?”

“Am I wrong? Red?” he didn’t mean it to come out overly harsh; it had. Alex’s eyes begged for the slightest amount of understanding.

“I think I should go.” Contradicting the sharpness that came into her words were the tears that sprung to her eyes, building up, daring to fall. Y/N pushed right through Alex (not unlike her previous shoulder-check) towards the front door with a sudden heaviness in her steps. 

Fuck. Think of something. 

She’s leaving think of something. 

Say something.

Anything!

“Are you still coming to the party Saturday?” Not that.

Stopping halfway out the door, Y/N whipped around with annoyance and anger burning in her eyes. “You’re serious? Is that all you care about? Padding your guest list?”

“No,” the whispered words fell graceless from his lips, “I care about you.”

“Don’t.” Y/N looked as if she were a second away from spitting in his face. “It was a mistake coming here. You can’t just say whatever shit you want, whenever you want. I’m sorry if you think I’ve been leading you on, but Sam is my boyfriend, alright? I love him.”

That was it. Alex did not know that would be it. He did not even know he was that close to the fucking edge. But he had been. And that? That was it. He wanted so bad to be a safe space for Y/N and to not start an argument or come off as if he were attacking her, but that was it.

“And does he love you?” Alex asked with a cruel scoff.

“Beg pardon?”

“Did he love you when he gave you that?” He pointed to her forearm – the five circular bruises.

“Fuck you, Alex.” Her lip curled into a snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She left. It was 2:01am.

It lingered in his head – the realization he came to when he was stood in the dark staring at his front door too confused to be shocked and too shocked to process the hurt. He lost; he was a loser. It was not a traditional emotion, but Alex felt it burning within even as he sat on the sofa with George.

Idiot. Since their first meeting, Alex dreamed and needed and worked so hard to be with Y/N, and he lost her. Gambled it all and lost. Useless. Weak. His thoughts took on their own intentions. Beginning to feel foreign as if coming from the outside and no longer sounding like him. 

Spiraling. Alex was spiraling. He did not – could not – understand how he could ruin everything life ever offered, bin the good opportunities, and fail all the people important to him. 

All at once, an intense feeling bubbled up from deep in his gut, perhaps the most classically masculine feeling he ever felt. Alex wanted to fight. Angry. Pained. He wanted nothing more than to scream out his voice and rid himself of the scorching torrent of blood that rushed through him, cauterizing his veins. Alex wanted to fight for Y/N. But he could not do that, could he? Fight. Not physically, at least.

“I need water.” George got up and moved to the kitchen, not knowing that his interruption of Alex’s internal monologue was like him saving the younger from drowning.

A light blush rushed to his cheeks as Alex pulled his head up. He inhaled deep and released it in a controlled exhale. Embarrassed with himself for falling victim to self-deprecation. It had to stop, and it was getting better. Alex just slipped up. He rerouted his focus to think neutral (as positive was a little out of reach), think solutions, think forward. 

Life is not a fiction. Not a page-turning romantic thriller nor bafta-nominated melodrama. He was not a leading man. Y/N was not the Eurydice to his Orpheus. Alex was himself. A regular human – he did not have the liberty of being able to go on an epic quest or save the world to prove himself to her.

He could not win back her comfort in him with a grandiose gesture – even if he wanted to. It had to be words. It had to be realistic actions. Sincere. Genuine. And Alex did not care if it would be difficult or if Y/N was difficult to understand, to please, he would keep trying until she told him to stop.

There was no guarantee Y/N would ever again see him as a safe space. Still, he would do his all because…well because he missed her. Alex had never missed someone like he did Y/N. 

He missed her more than he would miss his own heart if it lept from his chest. He missed her like they had spent their entire existence together up until that moment. He missed holding her close – brushing his fingers over her soft skin. He missed that blissful moment where he got to wake up with her there. 

Most of all, he missed how stable she made him feel. He was more present with her than he had been all his twenty-odd years. When she was with him, Alex lived a lifetime in each individual second.

Y/N made him feel strong for the first time in a long time.  He could not always carry himself, but  he would always, always be there to carry her.  

A minute later, George returned to the room with a water bottle in both hands; without warning, he chucked one towards the sofa. It struck Alex in the chest and landed in his lap before he doubled over. 

“Ow!” he shouted into his knees.

Taking a swig from his bottle, the older sighed and asked, “You alright?”

“No!” Alex popped back up and shouted. “You just hit me with a water bottle, you fucking idiot.”

George dropped his then half-full bottle onto the coffee table and took an extra step toward the sofa but remained standing. Looking down on the younger – something George did not have much experience in – he jabbed his index finger into his flatmate’s temple, pushing his head to the side.

“I meant your head.” He repeated, “You alright?”

“Again, George? We’re doing this again? You’ve never checked up on me this much before. Are you alright, Mr. Authoritarian?” Alex stood up and pushed his chin forward, bringing their faces closer and exaggerating the centimetre or four he had over his flatmate in height.

Shrugging both his shoulder, not flustered in the slightest, George said, “I’ve seen you like this before.”

“Like what?”

“After a break-up, you’re fine and good for a few months, but then you get a crush, and you start doing this to yourself. Fixating and—and fanning all these feelings and hyping yourself up to be disappointed. Now with Red—”

“I don’t want to talk about Red.” Alex snapped and moved to step around the coffee table, uncomfortable with the closeness he created. “For fuck sake, my life doesn’t revolve around the woman.”

“I’m not saying that.” George followed him. “Just that with the health advisements and staying inside, maybe you clung onto the first attractive person you saw in reach. Sammy’s not the type you go for – too muscular or whatever – so it’s Red. You should recognize that it’s not real; it’s nothing to do with her as a person; it’s just your pattern.” His prepared sounding speech came to an end as he placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Disgust glazing over his eyes, Alex dropped his shoulder recoiling from the contact like it might burn him. His voice was not gentle, with the sound of his scowl in each syllable, “You really think I’m that pathetic, huh?”

“In a few days or weeks, it’ll go away, all this, and you will feel like a complete idiot for acting like you are.”

“If you know that it’s not going to last, then why are you being such a prick? Why don’t you let me have a little fun in my,” he raised his hands, putting air quotes on his last word, “delusion?”

“Is that what Red is to you? Entertainment?” George looked disappointed. “That’s not fair—”

“No.” Alex refused, folding his arms. “I was repeating what you were saying.”

It went quiet; a pin could drop, and the sound would reverberate like in an echo chamber. Sweat beaded up on both men’s foreheads. Tensions unfamiliar to their apartment seemed to raise the temperature beyond boiling. Alex hated arguing – hated arguing with George. It was not something that happened almost ever until…Y/N.

In the silence, George closed his eyes, squeezed them shut as he dipped his chin to his chest. He blew out a harsh breath before straightening up and again opening his mouth. “If you do not listen to me. If you do not listen to yourself – that logical bit that isn’t wank material and how to get canceled – you are going to do something you regret. People will get hurt. Sorry I’m such a massive prick, but I know you, Alex. I know you and you’ll be fine; you always are. You’ll laugh off this ridiculous crush like you did when you were done daydreaming about Tom Holland twenty-four-seven those two months straight after Homecoming came out. You’ll be fine, but Sammy and Red might not be. I don’t want you starting a fight you’re not able to finish.”

Despite standing still with firm feet, Alex backed off. He could not keep holding on in the intense staredown, and he looked away. Folded arms dropped. There would be no response from him, not to that.

“You not saying anything proves my point.” George finished though he was not triumphant sounding. He spoke like something was blocking his throat, “You know what you’ve been doing is wrong, and you know I’m right.”

Taglist: (message to join!) @angelbabyivy​ @eboysimp​​ @trhtshonf @jaythegay92

[kaitlynpcallmebeepme]

The Package

The Package

Gif credit goes to the owner. NOT ME. @thegayfleet I think.

(Tom Holland x Reader)

Summary: Being in a long distance relationship is as difficult as it sounds, but Tom never fails to show you how much you mean to him.

Prompt: “I could kiss you right now.”

Warning: Fluff to the ends of the earth, description of bruises, a few swear words, one mention of some sexy clothing.

A/N: This is my first piece of writing ever. Constructive criticism is encouraged in comments. This is also for @lovelyspidey   and @thelazypangolin ‘s February Writing Challenge. Fluff prompt 8: “I could kiss you right now!” Also, if there are any warnings I missed, please tell me. I also based the campus and the dorm layout off of my own college. I kinda went overboard with the gift box and rushed the ending, but you learn as you go. If the links work, you can see the items I’m referring too by clicking on the underlined stuff. REQUESTS are OPEN, and asks are open if you want to talk. BTW the bruises are my arms every Monday night after cymbal practice (it’s an 8 month long try out process). And I KNOW Valentine’s day was weeks ago, but college is hard, so bite me. Italics is Y/N’s thoughts.

Feb 14, 2019. 6:00 p.m. EST

First entering your dorm room since 10 a.m. Not ideal, yes, but you didn’t have to leave for the rest of the night. The weight the day brought upon you showed in your slouched posture as you entered your single room. Pros: getting a single in an all-girls dorm on central campus your freshman year was very lucky. Cons: You had no friends and the nursing building was a 20-minute walk away at least every day (except every other Friday). You unzipped your boots before you stepped too far on the rug and got it wet (unlike your mom). You decided against turning your radiator on in the middle of February since the warm air and peaceful atmosphere made you sleepy and you needed to get some work done.

By the middle of February, you meant Valentine’s Day. It has never been a bother to you before.  Your parents and friends always gave you chocolate, once you got a marvel mug from your parents, and you were relatively fine.  Also, you were a more of an introvert, never dated before, and was very socially shy.  Since you had no one to spend it with, you always viewed Valentine’s day as a self-love day. None of your close friends ever dated before so there was no one to get jealous over, and as you said before you didn’t have friends at college, so it was fine. That was until about 7 months ago. Because 7 months ago is when you got asked out by none other than Tom FREAKING Holland.  

You two had met in a karaoke bar during comic con season just after you graduated high school, but that’s a story for another time. After some nerves were shattered and some bad singing of Bohemian Rhapsody happened, he asked you (stuttering in the process) for your number at the end of the night.

You two had only met the other’s family over face time a couple of times. It was hard trying to meet up with Tom’s schedule being so busy with a bunch of different time zones and you having 18 credit classes to worry about. You don’t know if your family knew he was Spider-man. You know your Dad knew that Spider-man was Peter Parker, but you’re pretty sure he has not seen any MCU movies. You’re confident that the topic of occupations will come up sooner or later.  Tom was staying in the UK for a few weeks before doing more promoting and filming, so you had to call him as soon as you got home from clinicals because it wouldn’t be Valentine’s day in the UK for much longer. 

You opened your laptop that was still on your desk and tried to call the Holland Family. You honestly loved all of them as the brothers you never had.  You just hoped they saw you as the sister they never had. The screen soon popped with your puppy-faced boyfriend. “Hey darling. You just get home?”

“Yeah. I swear to Got it’s snowed more in the past few weeks than it has in all of December. Not much went on today. We helped them set up snacks and played Legos with them.” The clinical you had was working with children after school in a lower income neighborhood. It was safe and decent and that’s all you could ask for. You stood up to get something from the shelf above your desk, revealing your navy blue scrub pants to the camera that had the Grey’s Anatomy logo on it.  You could hear the snicker in his voice as you sat back down.

“Damn you look sexy.” This made you blush even redder than your cheeks were already. Any of his compliments had this effect on you, but he never called you sexy.

“I’m wearing scrub pants. It’s like LITERALLY the most unflattering thing you could pick.”

“You look sexy to me in anything” You’re pretty sure there’s now no difference in a rose and your cheek color right now.

“And even sexier in nothing. Oww!” You couldn’t see what happened until Tom turned the camera to reveal Harry sitting across the table doing something on his computer (probably editing some more photos) while Sam, Harrison, and Paddy were in the background by the kitchen counter. You gave them a wave which they kindly returned.

“Happy Birthday boys.”

“Thank you.” the curly redhead said. You were getting better at telling the twins apart. Harry was the curly redhead often doing anything with pictures. Sam had straighter hair that was slightly darker. They were both equally sweet, as were all of the Hollands.

“Kinda late to be saying that now isn’t it?” Sam snickers back.

“It’s late over there, but it’s early evening here.”

“Yeah, but we were born here, so.” He had you there.

“I got it in before midnight, so it still counts.” You loved all the boys. Their brotherly relationship, as tiring as it may be, always brought a smile to your face.

“The marching cymbals not give you too many bruises this time babe?” That’s when the other boys came from the counter to hover over Tom’s shoulder. You rolled up your left sleeve a little bit more to reveal a collage of red, blue, green, purple, and brown bruises above your elbow. They all cringed at the sight of them.

“The purple ones are where I pinched a blood vessel. The bruises on my abdomen don’t show as much, but they still are sore. Can I open the package you sent me now?” It was getting harder to hide your relationship from your parents, especially when Tom sends a Valentine’s package.

“Sure love. But first, there’s something at the front door for you.” It wasn’t difficult to realize that Tom had a smirk on his face and was hiding something.

“Okaay… I’ll be back.” You left your laptop open, grabbed your key cards, a jacket, your wallet, just in case, put on your flipflops and went to the front door of your building. Going down the three flights of stairs with sore muscles was still a challenge. When you finally made it to the front door, there stood a man from Panera Bread with your name on a delivery bag. He told you it was paid for over the phone, but you wanted to make sure it was Tom who ordered it and it wasn’t someone trying to poison you (that’s just where your mind went).

“Did you order this Tom?” Coming back into view of the webcam, you could see a proud smile paint his chiseled face.

“Yeah. You...you told me that this would be your perfect single Valentine’s Day...so.” You didn’t remember when you mentioned your perfect single Valentine’s day, but you were intrigued to see if he remembered what you said. You opened the bag to find White Cheddar Macaroni and the Bread Bowl Chicken Noodle Soup. Two of your favorite dishes. You were still in a state of shock, you barely registered what was happening on the other end. “Open the package.” You opened the box and opened a smaller styrofoam container. It had some ice and a Rocky Mountain Caramel Apple, one of your favorite treats that you only got around Christmas. The air had been sucked from your lungs as you kept a big toothy grin on. That was your perfect single Valentine’s day, Panera Bread and a caramel apple.

You opened the Jaffa Cakes, which Tom knows you love, and began to eat those as you went through the rest of the box. The man knows you love your fandoms. The rest of the box consisted of a Doctor Who cardigan, Shuri’s bracelet, a Black Panther Umbrella, a Captain Marvel tank top, a Supernatural pocket watch (because pocket watches are awesome), a Supernatural Shirt, and of course a Spider-Man hoodie. (The links weren’t working, so here https://docs.google.com/document/d/1i0PR1zfp4cFV26_8aHyNEM3yf5eY0K80c2RdQuoKBF8/edit?usp=sharing)

There were only two things left and you thought you couldn’t geek and freak out anymore. There was a long thin box with the words ‘Don’t Open This On Camera’ written on it. “There should be one more in there.” You guessed he saw the puzzled look on your face and decided to push what you were thinking aside for the moment.

The last one was a small cube box and you didn’t think anything of it until you saw the other boys enter the camera frame again, all staring at you. You hesitantly opened the small cube to reveal a navy blue felt box. You could tell your vision was already getting blurry with tears and you tried to blink them back. It’s not that you were afraid of crying in front of the boys, you were afraid you were overreacting and it would turn out to be a prank, like a ring pop in the box or something. You popped the box open and what lay inside was simple, but a beautiful rose gold ring. One thread was rose gold and the other was covered in small white diamonds and the threads intertwined to infinity. The diamonds captured the light like the freshly fallen snow that was outside.

By now the tears were flowing freely, you had never been so open with anyone about your likes except your friends, but none of them ever bought you something this meaningful. “It’s uh promise ring.” You had completely ignored the other presence in the room at this point. You stared back into those milk chocolate eyes you fell in love with while your cheeks were stained with tears. “I know it’s early…, but I want you to be mine one day...if you’ll have me that is.” He avoided your eyes while trying to get the words out. You’ve never seen him this nervous.

You gently slid the ring out of the box and on to your left ring finger. How did he get the size perfectly?  “I love it Tom and I love you. Jeez, I could kiss you right now.” He let out a chuckle and you could listen to that sweet melody all day. You lent forward and gave the camera a kiss. No matter how cheesy it was, you kissed him again and again. “Ok, now I definitely have to tell my parents about you. It wouldn’t be easy to lie my way out of this otherwise.”

“What did you tell your parents about me?”

“Well, I couldn’t straight up say I’m dating Spider-Man.” This gave a laugh from Tom and the boys in the background, who you assumed were still listening in. “I said I met someone a while back who is amazing, humble, and presentable in every way. We’ve been dating, but he understands that my classes come first and we only meet up a few times a month.”

“That’s what I told them?”

“It’s not a complete lie.” You say through your teeth.

“You didn’t lie. You just avoided certain truths to manipulate them.” That devilish smile was on his face that told you he was impressed with himself.

“STOP QUOTING SUPERNATURAL AGAINST ME!” This left you both in a fit of giggles for a while longer. It was late in the UK and you had to get homework done, so you said bye to the boys, Nikki and Dom, and one more to Tessa and Tom before kissing him through the screen again.

You started to put away the package and gifts before you remembered the Do Not Open Me package. You take out the long thin box and open it. It’s a single rose. Aww. He remembered my love for Beauty and the Beast. Wait… Why would a rose be in a box? You inspected the rose more carefully and gently graced your fingertips over it. It felt lacy. You started to pull at the petals until the whole rose came out.

“That little shit. Really Tom, sexy lingerie .” You smirked to yourself as you held it up. You knew you had to get him back somehow.

Taglist: @lovelyspidey and @thelazypangolin for their February Writing Challenge. I don’t really have a tag list at the moment, but I’m tagging @sippin-my-milky-tea because I made an effort to tell the twins apart. Also, @lamptracker is my main inspiration, so thanks! Send me an ask if you want to be part of the tag list.