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thirsty-x1 · 4 years

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I’m Here For You | X1′s Hyung Line

Request:

might be a weird timing to request this but, i wanna request a angst/fluff for hyung line where they get stress because of situation happening now and you (as their best friend) are here to cheer them up?

↬ Pairing: Hyung Line x One Its.

↬ Genre: Angst, Fluff.

↬ Warnings: mental health stuff?

↬ Word Count: 2.5k

As soon as you saw the message on the group chat, you made a mental note to be there. It was going to be a stressful day for them, you were sure of it, but at the same time you wanted to give them their own space. After all, the discussion was about the group itself and you were just their best friend but not a member. A day had passed since the news came out and it was hard to get into the building without being noticed, but the staff helped you out and finally you were in the dorms, after all they knew that all of them needed support right now.

Your heartbeat was starting to hurt your chest, the anxiety filling you as the managers told you how each of them were dealing with it. It was impossible to not get mixed feelings, something between sadness and anger invading you.

It might have been the first time you felt such coldness in the dorm: all of them were scattered around the building, mostly locked in their rooms. You decided to go to Seungwoo first, knowing he might be beating himself up for the whole situation. And you weren’t wrong: he was on his bed, surrounded by complete darkness except for the few candles that dimly lit the room and the light of his cellphone as he stared into the screen intently. When you got closer he suddenly looked up, giving you a sad smile before scooting a little bit to a side so that you would sit down next to him.

The heavy eye bags under his eyes showed how tired he was, probably lacking sleep, and his bottom lip was hurt from him biting on it while fidgeting with his phone. You looked over his shoulder and saw the comments, all negative ones after another, blaming him. With a slow sigh, you covered the phone screen and put it aside, Seungwoo’s eyes shutting close as he let you, hugging his knees to his chest and hiding his face. There wasn’t much to say as you rubbed soft caresses onto his back, feeling the sobs he let out, giving him time until he was ready to speak.

“I didn’t know… I thought… I was so scared… I wanted to escape and so I went out and I just…” Each word was interrupted by his voice breaking. “They are right, I was so selfish… Everyone was feeling the same way yet I turned my back on them and now I can’t even look them in the eye.”

“It’s not your fault.” He sobbed even harder, shaking his head. “It isn’t. You are the leader, yes, but you can’t see the future and there are things that are out of your control. Everyone is hurting and they are trying to point fingers at whatever they can, but you are not to blame.”

“I know but I can’t… I can’t stop feeling like I should have done more, insisted more. I called the agency and told them we all wanted to take part in the meeting but they ended up dismissing us… I should have gone there anyway, the rest all trusted in me and I let them down.” Unlike his usual attitude, the words started spilling one after another, his tears drying as he felt a wave of frustration wash over.

“You did all you could, just like the rest of them. The members don’t blame you, and neither do your true fans, don’t read the comments that are filled with haters and people with too much pain to think objectively.” Your fingers softly typed on the screen, looking for the positive comments. “See? Look how many people love you for who you are and how many of them understand you. Read these ones, gain strength from their love and join your members, don’t isolate yourself just to beat yourself down. You can walk slowly when the pressure is too much to handle.”

His eyes scanned the multiple comments, some making him smile and even let out a small giggle whenever there was a funny video. He was more at ease, you could notice it, but it wasn’t going to be simple to recover from the hit.

“Thank you. I’ll try to… stay stronger.”

“You already are, Seungwoo.” His lips pressed into a thin line, before nodding softly. “I’ll be here if you need me, and the members will too. You are not alone.”

When you were sure he was a little better, you got up, flicking the lights on as a slight remember, and he let out a small thank you. You had to breathe in slowly, calming yourself before heading at the studio. The door was unlocked, as usual, so you got in, a soft, sad beat welcoming you and a Seungyoun with his face covered by the hat he was wearing. He didn’t seem to hear you through the headphones he had on, despite the music playing on the speakers, so you pocked his shoulder and he flinched a bit, looking at you disorientated before calming and giving you a warm smile.

“I was wondering when you were going to come around~” He moved on the chair, spinning a few times. “Therapy friendship?”

You nodded at his silly remark. “So how are you coping?”

“I’m not.” He lowered his gaze a bit, biting the inside of his cheek. “I want to bring them all up but the situation is affecting me a little too much as well, so… it’s hard.”

As you laid back on the desk, he started playing with his cap. “You are listening to the last recordings, right?”

“Mhmm. I worked really hard on new songs… even took into consideration each of their styles, making them my family…” His eyes looked at the screen a bit glossy. “I’m a bit tired of trying. I could just keep producing.” Suddenly he stood up, turning the lights off and sprawling on the couch behind, covering his face again with the hat. “I really am tired.”

“Why did you start with all this?”

He thought about it for a few seconds. “I wanted my music to reach people. To help someone.”

“Have you thought about all the people that it already reached? All of those that you have already helped?” His silence was enough answer, the knot in his throat tightening as he swallowed. “You are growing, Seungyoun.” You sat next to him, playing with his hair. “You are doing a great job, you know? No need to worry… Get some rest, I’ll be here.”

The beat of the song playing matched his breathing, his face still covered, his hands over his chest as you continued caressing him. When you heard him snoring lightly, you tried to hold back a giggle, getting up carefully without waking him up, whispering a soft “good night” as you left the room.

Low murmurs coming from the hallway caught your attention, your feet dragging there as you recognized Wooseok’s slightly deep voice. He was talking with the staff, a frustrated look on his face, his eyes wide opened as he pointed at his phone over and over again.

“I called at least five times and no one picked up, all of the boys wanted to be in the meeting, this isn’t what we wanted and it definitely isn’t what we want now either.” The staff tried to calm him, putting excuses but his frustration was over the roof. Eventually, he walked away, greeting you on his way while signaling you to follow him.

“They didn’t listen to you either?” The response was obvious, but you didn’t know how to start the conversation otherwise. He put his hands on his hips, closing his eyes for a bit and pouting as he furrowed his brows.

“I’m mostly afraid about the younger ones… this being their first experience… it’s simply not fair. And there are comments even criticizing and blaming the members…” It was obvious that there was something else that was worrying him, his eyes wavering and never making eye contact with you despite that being his most definable characteristic.

“What else are you afraid of?” Your question seemed to catch him off guard, his head dropping low.

“I was thinking that…” He bit his lips once. “I don’t want to be alone again. I want to… keep feeling loved, like until now. I don’t want to go back to that dark place.” Wooseok gave you a small smile before shaking his head. “Sorry, I just–”

You held his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “You will get through this, like you always do. You are so much stronger than before, Wooseok, we both know that. And…” Your grip tightened. “I will never let go of your hand, neither will them. I promise, yes? Trust me, trust us.”

If he said anything now, his voice would expose him, so he chose to simply nod, affection clear in his eyes as he pressed back on your hand as a way to confirm the promise. You stayed like that for a few seconds, letting him recharge before his phone started ringing and he apologized whilst taking the call.

Just as you were going to take a break, you heard a few stomps and saw Yohan walking angrily from one side to another, opening all the cupboards while repeating “spicy ramen” a hundredth times under his breath. You walked up to him, squatting and reaching deep behind one of the lower cupboards and getting him what he was looking for.

“How did you..? Did Hangyul hide it there?” You nodded, remembering how the last week Hangyul had tried to hide every single piece of spicy food in order to avoid Yohan making him eat it. “Thank you, I need to calm down and this thing will do for now.”

You sat on the kitchen counter, watching him prepare the ramen. “You are mad?” He nodded, waiting for the water to boil. “Why?”

“The fans.” His patience was running low, staring at the water as if that would help make it faster. “They have all been waiting for us and we can’t return anything to them – why is this taking so long – although we promised.” He tapped his fingers, his skin starting to turn slightly red. “Everything is ruined…”

His shoulders were tense, so you put your hands on them, pressing a bit before pushing him so that he would sit down. At first he was going to complain, but he had no strength, so he simply stared at you continuing to cook the noodles.

“Catch your breath.” His ears perked up at your words. “Don’t try to rush things, it will be worse. Give it some time so that things will settle down, let them come to you.” You poured the hot water on the cup, mixing it until the ramen started to soften. “I will keep being by your side each step you give, so there is no need to run.”

As you placed the cup on the table, he contemplated the steam, thinking about what you just said. “That’s right… I should work hard and get back with them slowly…” He smiled proud of himself as you nodded, eating some of the noodles and burning his tongue. “Ah! I should try to contact them in some kind of way… I’m not fond of people having my number but that might come in handy this time.”

You giggled at the way his eyes shined when unlocking the screen, changing his background picture in his kakao and standing proud, grabbing the cup as he said he was going to practice his handwriting for a moment.

Not even a second later, all the younger members entered the kitchen walking in a line, their expressions a little bit down while Hangyul was at the end, taking in the atmosphere and wondering how he could lighten it up a little. His eyes found comfort in yours, a silent deal made in the exact moment. Both of you distracted the kids, cooking a few things and putting on a movie. You scanned the room, all of them cuddling close to each other, none of them really paying attention at the images on the screen, but somehow they wanted to get their minds off all the news too. Looking at your side, you saw Hangyul with a serious expression, probably thinking about the same thing as you did. He got up, muttering a slight “I’ll be back soon” before walking out, his back slouched and you couldn’t help but to follow him.

He is resting against the wall on the hallway, right beside the living room, looking up and trying to steady his breathing. You stand up next to him, not saying anything until he rests his head on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to keep it to yourself…” Your whisper was barely audible, but he understood.

“I don’t want to worry them.” Hangyul closed his eyes. “Being with them I felt obligated to keep my feelings on check, but they are so sad… I don’t know what to do.”

“Come a little bit closer.” He did, his muscles tensing and then relaxing when your arms surrounded him. You thought he was going to pull away playfully like he tended to, but this time he accepted it. “You don’t need to comfort yourself anymore… You can rely on the others, and on me too.” You pat his back a bit, putting on a dramatic tone. “I’ll be your shoulder to cry on.” His laugh vibrated on the room, and he stood up, smiling sincerely and getting strength.

“I guess I don’t have to carry the burden alone.” A door opened behind you, a messy haired Seungyoun coming in. “Besides, it looks like he’s having a much harder time.”

The rest of the guys appeared too and met up in the living room. You stayed on the door frame, smiling while seeing the eleven boys looking at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before starting to giggle, their concerns washing away at least for a few seconds when the older ones started to act goofy. You were trying your best to burn the image in your memory until they called you, rushing you to take a picture of all of them together.

This warm feeling, the tears and the laughs meeting half way… You don’t want to miss it. It’s painful, yes, but that just proves how real and meaningful it is. You want to tell them more things, but they already know. They know that you will be there for them, and you know they will be there for you too. You trust them, and they trust you.

We’ll be there for you.

Of course I cried with this. Maybe it’s a little bit late but I wanted to tell them those things, both to X1 and to you guys as well.

~Nani

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ahoyfandoms · 5 years

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The Knee In Your Back

Prompt: First night together @risenfrommyimagination

Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem! Reader

Summary: You've been Robin’s girlfriend for a while now but you’ve yet to spend your first night together.

Word Count: 3782

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Robin has me soft, girlfriend Robin has me even softer. My rl hoe and me exchanged prompts and that is what happenend kids.

Feedback or constructive criticism is very welcomed!

More Robin: Drabbles

It wasn’t the fact, that you hadn’t had a sleepover in your life. You’ve had sleepovers with plenty of people.

Ok, maybe not plenty, but…

A simple sleepover was not a reason to be this nervous at all.

You had tried to not pay so much attention to what was coming or rather who was coming over tonight. Even with your headphones on and Our House by Madness fueling you on, you could not shake your anxious feeling.

While putting your stuff away you muttered some words along to the song.

You took a step back, trying to calm down by wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans and looked around for any knick-knacks that still weren’t in their place.

Since you’d spent your free afternoon cleaning your room to make it look presentable there wasn’t much clutter left that needed fixing.

Sure, your laundry basket was still overflowing a little bit, the towers of undone homework and unread books were still silently judging you from your desk but overall it looked clean and cozy.

“Ok, I’ll do some laundry and then I think I can relax.”, you spoke into the silence of your room.

You took off your headphones, slung them around your neck and grabbed a pile of laundry.

Hearing the music change to ABBA, a smile crept across your face. Robin had mocked you once for being obsessed with them. You knew she secretly loved them, too.

After loading up the washing machine and pausing ABBA, you decided you were done and could begin anxiously waiting for Robin to arrive.

“Just gotta put the Walkman away,”, you instructed yourself while following along, „and now I am free.”.

Just a second later, you heard the telephone ring downstairs.

“Oh, Shit!”

You dashed down the stairs, wanting to spare Robin the experience of having to small talk with your mother when she picked up.

In your rush, you forgot about how slippery your carpeted stairs could be and slid down the last couple of stairs.

“Oh, Jesus fuck!”, you exclaimed while the edge of the stairs dug into your bum and back. That would give you two nice bruises probably.

“Hello, Sanders household. How may I help you?”, your mother had already answered the phone while you lay defeated on the stairs.

“Excuse me for just one second.”, she said.

“Honey, no need to bring Jesus into this! Are you ok? It’s for you.”, she called into the hallway, having the speaker covered with her body so that the person on the other side wouldn’t hear your misery.

Angry at your own impatience and still hurt you got up and rubbed your now aching back and bottom.

Goddamnit…

Upon entering the kitchen, your mother shot you a look and held the phone out to you.

“It is for you”, she mouthed at you.

It was her. Please let it be her, you pleaded in your thoughts while taking the speaker and looking at the clock to checking if it could really be Robin.

“This is Y/N.”, you answered.

“So do tell, why did you have to bring Jesus into this?”

The thing was: you could feel her smirk, even though you couldn’t see it.

“Might’ve slipped on the stairs, but also just might be a good catholic girl.”, you almost whispered, not trusting your voice right now.

You anxiously started playing with the telephone cord. Twisting it around your fingers until they were covered.

It was around eight now. Shouldn’t she be off now? Your mother was preparing lunch for your father to take to work tomorrow. She was already in her nightgown and would retire for the night in about half an hour probably.

She worked early shifts at the library on weekends, so she always made sure to get her beauty sleep.

Your father, on the other hand, was working a night shift down at the police station. After the Chief had gone missing, he had to take a lot of his workload.

Robin chuckled.

This made you feel relaxed. It was like she could just wash all the anxiety away with one simple gesture.

“You are a lot of things, but you are not a good catholic girl.”, she said.

You snorted. What was that supposed to mean?

“But anyways. I am calling to tell you to -”, you heard someone complaining in the background, “ – Steve, I am trying to have a conversation here…!”

Then you heard bits and pieces of arguing between Steve and Robin.

“I am sorry, Steve is being his dingus self and wants to close up. Just wanted to let you know I am on my way, babe.”, Robin finished her sentence.

And with that, all your anxiety came back to you. You couldn’t even calm down by playing with the phone cord anymore.

“Alright.”, you managed to get out.

“Breathe, babe. Bye.”

And with that, the phone was silent.

“Who was that, honey?” Your mother asked as you hung up the speaker.

“Robin, she’ll be here in twenty, I think.”, you shot another glance at the clock.

“Alright, you two have fun. There is still a little leftover dinner in the fridge if she wants some.”

Your parents didn’t know the extent of Robin and your relationship. They knew you had Spanish and chemistry together. They thought you were just two girls, being best friends.

You were way past of being best friends though. That had stopped when she kissed you that one night.

The memory of her soft but chapped lips brushing against yours made your heart flutter and your cheeks heat up.

You decided against waiting for Robin in your room and watched some TV to get your mind off her.

It was a soft sound, her hands knocking on your front door. She knew your mother was in bed and probably trying to fall asleep right now.

She had been over at your house plenty of times. But you had yet to spend a night together with each other. As a couple. It felt daring to even think of that word.

It was a constant hiding game, your relationship. No kisses and hand holding out in public. Hugs were ok, but they needed to be quick and unsuspicious.

Sometimes it made you furious that other people could just show their affection out in the open and you two could maybe sneak a kiss in the break room when Steve was feeling nice and you two were feeling adventurous.

Trying to compose yourself, not looking too desperate to see her, you opened the door.

As soon as you saw her hair up in that wild ponytail, she put it in when Keith was being a pain in her ass and asking why he gave Steve that job and where all the hot ladies were.

You smiled at the thought.

One-time poor, shy Keith tried flirting with you. You had politely declined his offer to show you some better movies than what you were planning to rent.

Robin was angry but also so insecure after that.

“Well, what am I going to do? I can’t just kiss you and tell him to back the fuck off.”, she had said almost desperate.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”, you whispered. Robin talking getting you out of your thoughts.

You stood aside, telling her to come in. Robin saved all displays of affection for your bedroom now. You always did that when you visited each other at home.

She quickly got out of her shoes and followed you into your bedroom. It was still weird for you to have a girlfriend. After all that anxiety, you always needed an adjustment period for your body and brain to process that you could share anything with her and just touch her.

Robin didn’t seem to need that adjustment period because as soon as you reached your room upstairs and closed the door, she hugged you from behind. Leaning her head on your shoulder, you could feel her breath against your ear.

You leaned into her a little bit and put your hands on top of hers, feeling the tension slowly fading away.

Softly she spoke: “You know what? Steve might be earning a ‘You Rule’ tally soon.”.

You turned around in her embrace, now facing her, hands clasped behind her neck.

Her hands were on your waist gently caressing you with her thumbs.

Your gaze wandered upon her face. You didn’t dare to look her in the eyes just yet.

You could, however, count her freckles, if you wanted to.

“Really? How did he manage that?”, you asked with a smile.

While you were waiting for an answer you threw all your precautions and anxious feelings out of the window and looked up into Robin's eyes.

She was looking at you the whole time like you had laid down the very ground she was standing on.

You noticed her eyes switching from yours to your mouth. A tentative ask if you were ok if she’d kiss you now.

It was weird for you, kissing her at first. It felt good, yes. But the fact that Robin was kissing you and really wanted to do it still had you feel giddy.

“Robin? What did he do?”, you pressed on, being too scared to initiate the kiss yourself.

You somehow wanted this moment to just last a little bit longer.

Robin’s hands wandered up to cup your face. She was caressing your cheeks.

You felt loved, closing your eyes, exhaling – almost sighing. Robin smelled like fresh linen, citrus and that new shampoo Harrington had recommended her when she complained to you about her hair.

While being in your thoughts you hadn’t really noticed that Robin was about to kiss you.

“Just shut up for a moment.”, she said.

Gently, her lips brushed against your own before she hovered over them again. You could feel her gaze switching between your eyes and lips. She knew you were screaming internally.

She took it slow, for you and your heart's sake.

But you were adjusting pretty well tonight, you were slowly transcending into the stage, where you needed and craved her touch and affection.

Robin had that tell-tale smirk on her face again. It lit up your whole heart.

She closed the distance between you two again, connecting your lips in a now more pressing kiss. Her lips still moved gently against yours, as to not scare you off.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, the butterflies in your stomach set free you started to return the kiss.

Your lips moving softly against hers made it worth all the times you were frustrated that you couldn’t do any of this in public.

Robin’s hands were still holding your face close to her when she ended the kiss. You were both catching your breath.

She looked at you with so much adoration, you weren’t sure how your knees were still holding up.

All those feelings always hit you like a hurricane. It was all so new, being in love and being loved back. Sometimes you felt ashamed of how much you really loved her.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, seeing the pulse steadily on her neck, peppering little kisses around that area.

Her skin was incredibly soft, and that welcoming smell hit you again.

“Mhm, babe. Stop, please.”, she murmured.

You looked at her, her face was flushed.

“What’s up? Care to tell me now what Harrington did?”

“Maybe if you’ll kiss me again.”, she suggested while starting to play with the hem of your shirt.

You rolled your eyes at that, giving her a little shove.

“Excuse you, why do you reject me my love?”, she dramatically let herself fall onto your bed.

“Because you’re being a dingus right now.”, you explained holding out your hands to help her up.

She grabbed your hands and pulled so suddenly that you landed with a small yelp on top of her. Robin reacted quickly though and covered your mouth with her hand.

“Shh, you don’t want to wake up your mum.”, she whispered.

You felt your flush creeping up again, trying to roll off Robin but she wrapped her legs around you. Always one step ahead of you.

“Why don’t you tell me again, who the dingus is here?”, she dared.

“Harrington of course.”, you replied.

“Right answer, good girl.”

“Don’t say that Robin.”, rolling your eyes you finally managed to roll off her.

“Why not? You said it yourself, you’re a good Christian girl.”, she was teasing you. She probably wouldn’t let go of that comment for a while.

“But, back to the problem on hand: there is this girl and she was being all cute and shy around Harrington. Luckily, he choked on his spit today while talking to her. So, I don’t think I’ll be making that tally too soon.”, she explained.

“Well, you know.”, you made a gesture with your hands, “I think he definitely has earned a ‘You rule’ tally for all the times he has been so supportive of us.”

“Come on, you’re being no fun.”, she complained,” Steve deserves to be teased. He is a dingus.”, she went on.

“He is, but he is also your friend. And I appreciate him as such.”, you concluded.

“You’re too sweet.”, she yawned. She must be pretty tired.

“Do you mind if we go straight to bed?”, she asked while starting to play with your hair, lightly combing through it and scratching your scalp in the process.

“My mum has leftovers in the fridge for you, if you want to eat first?”

“That’s very sweet of her. I had a packed lunch and now I just want to get to bed.”

She yawned again as if to prove her statement.

“You just want to cuddle with me, be honest.”, you joked around, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“You know me too well.”, she spoke softly, her gaze never leaving you.

She got up from the bed, grabbed her overnight bag and plopped that down on your bed.

And with the thump of her bag, all your anxiety came back to you once again.

Are you going to get into pajamas in front of each other? Would it be weird? Would it be even weirder if you did this in the bathroom? By yourself?

You stood up, standing awkwardly next to Robin, fumbling with your hands, not sure what to do.

Robin was throwing her pajamas on a side of the bed carelessly; they weren’t even folded neatly. Her overnight bag looked like she just stuffed a bunch of stuff in it this morning.

“I can hear you thinking from over there.”, she called you out, while you chewed on your bottom lip.

She reached out for your fumbling hands, taking them into hers, her thumb lightly grazing over the back of your hand.

“We’ve never done this.”, you whispered, not looking at her but at a little dust bunny, you found on the floor.

“Hey, it’s not like we are going to fuck the whole night. Relax.”, she tried to ease you up with a joke.

You took your hands out of hers. “Jeez Robin, you’re such a romantic.”.

“I know. Why don’t you go change in the bathroom and I’ll change here and then we brush our teeth and I’ll start snoring the second I hit those sheets?”

“I will kick you if you snore!”, you threatened her, wagging a finger at her and walking into your ensuite.

You slid off your clothes, feeling relieved to finally get into your pajamas.

You felt more at ease when she had seen you struggling. Robin always seemed to know what you needed, she was always there to get you out of your head and back into reality.

When you got to your shirt you stopped for a moment. Was Robin going to keep her bra on? You’d never seen each other naked yet, not even while making out.

But sleeping with a bra was the most uncomfortable thing ever…

A soft knock on the door interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Are you ready yet? I’ll fall asleep, take over the whole bed and get cavities if you don’t let me in right now.”, she whined dramatically.

You decided to take off your bra, slip on your shirt and just put an arm around your body, supporting your boobs.

While slipping on your shirt, you could see the purple bruise on the lower end of your back. Those stairs really did a number on you. More like my impatience…

Opening the door, Robin slipped in, toothbrush in hand, wearing the shortest shorts in existence. Scratch that, they weren’t even worth it to be called shorts, she could’ve just been wearing her underwear.

“See something you like, pretty girl?”, she whispered as she stepped into your personal space.

You huffed. Shaking your head and wetting your toothbrush with the toothpaste.

She was beginning to brush her teeth now, smirking and looking at you being flustered. She seemed really pleased with herself.

Your grumbled something.

“What was that?”, she spit out the toothpaste, finishing up. She stepped behind you, embracing you in a hug again.

Her lips trailed soft kisses along where your shirt fell off your shoulder and up your neck.

“Nothin’.”, you lied. You felt yourself getting goosebumps when she kissed the spot behind your ear.

Robin hummed against your skin, your eyes meeting in the mirror when you finished up brushing your teeth too.

Slowly, as if to test the waters, she let go of you. It felt oddly cold not having her wrapped around you.

She walked back into your bedroom, slipping into your bed with such ease as if you did this regularly. Sometimes you asked yourself how she did that: being so careless.

Turning on the lava lamp on your nightstand, you switched the light in your room off. You felt like a stranger in your own bedroom.

It felt good and relaxing to have your girlfriend around, but it also made your anxiety skyrocket into a whole new universe.

“You know, your bed smells really nice.”, Robin hummed as she got comfortable in your bed.

“Hm, that does not sound creepy at all Miss Buckley.”, you said as you slid into your bed, a sigh escaping your mouth.

“Not going to lie, the Harrington’s know their mattresses.”, you told her.

“What? Why do you have to bring the dingus into our pillow talk?”, the soft pink hue of your lava lamp, illuminated her disgusted looking face.

“Ugh, Robin it’s not like that.”

“Enlighten me then, babe.”, her soft voice was barely above a whisper.

“You know I’ve known Steve since I was a baby. Our Parents went to high school together. And when we moved my bedroom, I got a bigger bed and I’ve had a sleepover at Steve’s multiple times you know. So, I just asked him, what kind of mattress he has.”, you explained.

“You had sleepovers with him? In his bed?”, Robin's eyebrows were raised high.

“Yes, our parents always try and make us end up together.”, you shivered at the thought.

Steve wasn’t such a douchebag anymore, that was great, but you’d never thought about him in that way…

Robin swallowed, looking worried. She always licked her lips when she was nervous.

“Guess, I’ll have to disappoint my parents right there…”, you whispered.

This didn’t seem to make her worries go away. She knew you had a relatively good relationship with your parents, yet they didn’t know you preferred women over men.

Robin wasn’t one to talk though, you knew she only ever told Steve and one of her high school friends.

It was one of the rare times where Robin was caught up in her thoughts, spiraling down the route of self-doubt.

She had this worrying wrinkle in between her eyebrows, eyes fixating on a point behind you as if she was able to look right through you.

“Robin?”, you touched her cheek, feeling her eyes now really focusing on you.

“You know, that I’m not going to abandon you? I’ve waited too long to finally call you my girlfriend to let you go…”.

Robin huffed, slightly shaking her head.

“The only thing is,”, she trailed her fingers over your arm now, “you can’t even call me your girlfriend.”

She sounded so defeated; you could feel your chest tightening. It hurt, to see her like that.

“The only thing important to me is, that we know it, you know. And maybe Keith, he is still trying to hit on me.”, you made a disgusted face.

Robin chuckled at that.

“He is relentless. Asking me about you. At one point I will strangle him with some tape.”, she joked.

Robin seemed pleased with her idea, smiling at you and looking so very beautiful.

Shyly you leaned in for another soft kiss. Longing for the touch now, needing reassurance, that this was, in fact, your girlfriend ready to kill a poor clueless man.

Robin broke off the kiss to yawn again.

“Wow, what did Keith do to you?”, you wondered.

“Had me stacking boxes and doing some inventory stuff. It was really boring.”, Robin explained.

“Come here.”, she held her arms out, so that you could cuddle in even closer with her.

Her body felt warm and soft against yours. She still smelled intoxicating, when you nuzzled your head into the crook of her neck.

Robin had slung a leg around your hip, and you thought you could never feel more at ease than this.

The only sounds were some cars passing by, the wind howling softly.

Your lava lamp still illuminated you in the soft pink light. You always left it on, after all, that had happened.

“Goodnight, babe.”, Robin pressed a kiss on top of your hair.

“Mhm, G’night Robin.”, you answered pressing your lips lazily against her pulse point.

She pulled you in closer.

After a while, you could hear her soft, steady breath. Robin always fell asleep like it was nothing. One time she even fell asleep standing up.

You’d never been able to do that. Always struggling to shut up your head and find peace and quiet.

A knee in your back let you wake up rather harshly, groaning you turned around to see who was so rudely waking you up this Saturday.

Robin lay there, her mouth softly opened, a little wet spot of drool on her pillowcase, her right leg pulled up high (the one that just woke you up) and hands tucked under her pillow. She looked so relaxed.

And at this moment, you decided you never wanted to wake up without her anymore.

I am tagging you because you’re either one of my hoes or I thought you’d like this. Please tell me if it wasn’t ok to tag you!

tags: @marvelscoops @badass-robin @sinfulsweetpea @silver-winter-wolf @losermultifandomidiot @robinbuckleyfanfics @robinlikeswomen @bitchinrobin @bullymehargrove @minigranger @upsidedownfics @harringtown @parker-potter

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley reader insert #robin buckley fic #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley imagine #robin from stranger things #robin buckley prompt fill #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic moodboard #stranger things imagine #my writing #steal it and i will steal your soul

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nekoabiwrites · 5 years

Text

Comfort in Music

Another prompt thing for @thesquirtlesquadwrites! This time, instead of a particular sentence prompt, we decided to just use an AU prompt and this one was Soulmate AU where your soulmate(s) can hear what music you hear.

Once again, my titles suck... And this idea with these exact songs mentioned has been in my head for like... almost two years now and I’m so happy to have written it out!

Read the rest of the fics here on the masterlist for this prompt: https://thesquirtlesquadwrites.tumblr.com/post/187333342346/soulmate-au-hearing-the-music-your-soulmates

AU: College AU Pairing: LAMP Words: 3269 Warnings: Many awkward and bad things happen to Virgil, mention of depression and insomnia, mention of car crashes, very lightly implied use of self harm, very lightly implied thoughts of death (The last three are from the song used). Anything else, please let me know.

Summary: Virgil is having a very very bad day and uses music to cope. But, he underestimates just what would happen when they all heard it.

---

Today had been pure hell for Virgil.

Firstly, he’d had an awful night’s sleep. His insomnia had hit hard the night before as well as this one, leaving him painfully awake at what he could only guess to be close to 6am. Not only that, but he’d been having a really bad down period with his depression and it was only adding to his mood, if he could even describe the lack of feeling as a ‘mood’ – one of his housemate’s would definitely say it counted. Eventually, he’d been granted some reprieve from it, but had then slept through his alarm, making him late for his 10am class. He’d had to walk in during a particularly quiet part of the class too, heaving breaths being awkwardly supressed as Virgil had ran all the way there.

“Nice of you to join us, Virgil.” His teacher had quipped jokingly. Several of the class had smirked, snorted or smiled in response, which had Virgil’s stomach dropping and his mind screeching. He’d taken his seat quickly and kept his head down for the entire lesson.

Then the teacher had thrown them a surprise quiz. Virgil was wholly unprepared for it and fought to control his anxiety. He was able to get through it. It was thankfully short and actually fairly easy.

Of course, the rule of three had to be completed. His English teacher just had to add that extra layer of insult to it all. Virgil had been called upon by the teacher, completely without warning. He had no time to prepare himself for it. He’d been unable to answer, instead just using a string of filler words and incomplete stutters. When his teacher had given him a look that just screamed disappointed and several other students glanced in his direction, Virgil felt like he might just break down into tears then and there with how bad he felt.

They were eventually let free. Virgil couldn’t decide whether being out first or lingering back to leave last would help him. He fretted about it for a moment but ended up just heading out in the pack of students as they all left. After getting out of the building, Virgil diverted away from the rest of his class and moved towards the opposite side of campus. He didn’t have another class for a couple of hours and knew he still had some assignments to work on, so he decided to attempt something akin to productivity in the campus library.

In the quiet building, Virgil realised that he just didn’t have the focus for anything remotely productive. He spent the two hours staring at the document, trying his hardest to read it and add to it in a meaningful way. All he ended up being able to do was add a couple hundred words, none of which he wasn’t happy with.

Then came his next class. With one of the worst surprises of the day.

“It is time for you all to split into groups to work on a short presentation about…” Virgil stopped listening after that. He knew practically no one in this class, everyone else seemed to have at least one friend in here and – to top it off – he was going to have to present something with these strangers?! His mind was racing once more. Then, he finally clocked back into the teacher’s instructions.

“So, these are the groups I’ve picked.” She clicked to the next slide to show all of their names grouped up.

Virgil almost succumbed to his panic right then and there. But, the rest of the lesson went by quickly. The group wasn’t so bad, they were just as awkward as him, and the presentations were thankfully short. He didn’t have to do much. By the time he left, Virgil was ready to grab a drink from the campus shop on his way out to the house.

The universe wasn’t done with him yet.

Just as Virgil got out of the building, his foot caught on the heel of his other and he went down onto the concrete. In front of all of his classmates. And the incoming students. And several faculty. And a visiting tour group. He hissed silently in pain as he stood up, thanking the couple of people who went to help him to his feet. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment. But then he tried to casually walk away.

A sharp sting of pain came from his knee and Virgil winced involuntarily. He moved to the side of the door, assuring everyone who asked him if he was okay that he was, and checked his knee. It was grazed and pretty badly too. It was bleeding a little, but it was nothing he hadn’t seen before.

“Fuck these jeans.” He muttered to himself, looking at the wound that was perfectly shaped to the hole in his jeans. After letting his body get accustomed to the pain, Virgil headed towards the shop. He prayed silently that any interaction he would have in there would go well, and it did. Except he was stopped multiple times before he got there by people asking if he was okay. Each time that question was asked, Virgil was closer and closer to losing it. Tears pricked the back of his eyes. This day could not get worse.

Then his drink practically exploded on him as he opened it.

Virgil thanked every deity he could that he was down away from campus and that no one was around. A couple of silent tears slid down his cheeks as everything that had been piling up all day was starting to weigh him down a little too much. He just wanted to go home, curl up in his blankets and sleep. Just sleep forever.

In order to do that, however, Virgil had to walk back to the house he shared with some other students. There was only one thing that was going to hold him together until he got there.

Virgil quickly pulled out his headphones, plugged them into his phone and scrolled to find his playlist. He’d always had this playlist, ever since he’d gotten this phone. It was what he needed for days like this, for days when everything in the world was too much and he just couldn’t handle it, for days when…

He tapped the playlist titled ‘When The Depression Hits’ with a wry smile at the title. The volume was turned up to its loudest and Virgil let the music wash over him. The slow introduction of the song ‘Justified’ had him breathing in deep and breathing out slow. Sure, it may be bad for him to listen to stuff like this so loud, but it was the only thing keeping him from breaking down right now. Ever so slowly, Virgil began his walk home.

Several songs passed by as he wandered the pavements he’d walked along so many times. All of them fit his mood so perfectly. Each one of them had at least some lyrics that resonated with his current state so fantastically, summed up everything he wanted to scream to the sky but he just couldn’t find the words for. Somehow, all of the loud guitar and piercing vocals calmed Virgil. It didn’t get rid of the voice screaming at him, it didn’t make him feel better about all the things that had happened. It just calmed him enough to keep him from crying openly.

He was just turning into the larger street that his veered off from when he paused at the edge of it to scroll for a particular song. When he found it, Virgil hesitated for a second.

‘What if they can…’ He thought to himself. Virgil physically shook his head to rid himself of the thought, ‘No, they can’t. It’s fine. Probably busy doing their own things…’

Virgil hit play before another thought could cross his mind and stop him.

“I’m wide awake and so alive. Ringing like a bell…”

The song began and Virgil immediately felt a ball of tension in his stomach. He continued on his journey, speeding up a little.

He knew this was stupid. To listen to a song that hurt him a little, that gave him thoughts that he was ashamed to admit he thought. Virgil knew they’d all be disappointed in him for it, but this song was his emotional release.

When the chorus hit, Virgil couldn’t help but mouth the words alongside the singer.

“I wanna feel a car crash. I wanna feel a capsize. I wanna feel a bomb drop, the earth stop, til I’m satisfied. I wanna feel a car crash. ‘Cause I’m dying on the inside. I wanna let go and know that, I’ll be alright. Alright.”

To Virgil, that was his emotional release. That was what he wanted to happen. He wanted all of those things. Just to know he could feel. That slight sting in his knee was reminding him that he was really a human, really alive. That he could feel things. That he wasn’t hollow and empty.

Virgil set the song to repeat itself continuously. He began singing quietly under his breath, each and every word piercing his soul and mind.

The view of the front door of his rented house had Virgil digging his phone out from his bag. He turned the music off and slid his headphones from their place over his ears. He dropped both of them into his bag while he dug around for his key.

It took a single step into the house for Virgil to be accosted by something just the tiniest bit shorter than himself. He’d not even been able to pull his key out of the lock.

After getting over the shock, Virgil looked down ever so slightly to see the soft brown hair of his housemate who’d buried his head against Virgil’s chest. “Uh, Patton? Could I… close the door?”

Patton pulled away with a soft pout and a concerned look in his furrowed eyebrows and large eyes behind even larger glasses. Virgil felt his every move being scrutinized. That wasn’t normally Patton’s thing. But it seemed to be just how today was going. Things that didn’t normally happen happening to Virgil just to make his day more and more uncomfortable and upsetting. His mind ran wild with assumptions and ideas that Virgil had somehow upset his usually smiley housemate.

However, all of that was dispersed once Virgil had shut the door and taken off his shoes – which had been rubbing at his heels too as their insides had been peeling off for months now, only adding to Virgil’s pain. Patton had immediately thrown himself back into Virgil, cuddling up close. Only then did Patton’s eyebrows return to their natural position and he relaxed.

Virgil was a little confused. He returned the hug and the two of them sat there on the stairs in the embrace for a moment. Virgil even closed his eyes, relaxing into the warmth of Patton’s hug.

All of his housemates had agreed that Patton’s arms and hugs had some kind of magical relaxing healing power – well, he and one other had agreed, their final housemate had then begun a lecture on the scientific benefits of physical comfort.

Speaking of, a familiar clearing of the throat had Virgil’s eyes snapping open to look up into yet more eyes behind glasses. He went to apologise, but the other cut him off.

“I think we are all expected upstairs, Patton.”

Patton immediately shot up, “Oh, Logan! Right! I forgot!” He then grasped Virgil’s arm and dragged him upstairs, the movement being a little difficult for the one being hauled along behind as he had to keep up with Patton’s fast pace.

Virgil followed his housemate through the hallway, expecting to be taken to Patton’s room. But, then they passed that door and went into Virgil’s.

The injured student was finally let go and he stood in the doorway for a moment, while Patton moved to take up a space on the end of his bed.

Virgil’s room had always had soft purple string lights surrounding his room and all of them were on currently, even though it was still light outside. The blinds had been pulled all the way down and candles had been lit, all of them sitting around his TV in a decorative manner. Speaking of, the TV in question was already showing a shot from his favourite movie, clearly having been paused where he last left it off. When Virgil looked back over to the bed, he noticed that it was absolutely covered in pillows and blankets and duvets and soft toys. Some of the blankets had even been pinned to the walls, creating a bit of a blanket fort vibe. One of the large plastic containers Virgil had used to move his stuff in was sat in between the edge of the bed and the chest of drawers where the TV sat, taking up most of that thin space. And, sat already in the corner, was his final housemate, who had a controller in his hand.

A gentle hand grasped his wrist and Virgil found himself being coaxed – by Patton – towards the bed. Virgil crawled up onto it a little clumsily, trying not to disturb the state of the pillows. Instinctively, his other housemate moved his arm, an obvious invitation for Virgil to rest himself against him, which he did cautiously. The raised arm came to rest around his back, holding Virgil securely with its strength.

Patton cuddled up on the other side of Virgil. He began to quietly ramble, dispersing the remaining silence in the room that wasn’t already gone by the whirring of Virgil’s game console that was whirring away below the TV, as the movie was rewinded back the beginning, “Isn’t this so cool? Roman came up with this and set it all up, saying we could all use a hangout night. I could only help by carrying all the blankets and pillows in so Ro could set them all up perfectly like this. We all know I’m terrible at all this careful stuff, so I turned on the lights and left to help Lo!”

Virgil shot a quick glance up at Roman, who had a very small prideful smile on his lips at Patton’s praise. He could see that Roman was seemingly biting at the inside of his mouth, a small thing he did to keep himself from talking when it was necessary. Virgil was about to call him out on it, but Patton continued.

“Oh, and Logan did all of the snacks! He thought about what we had, what we didn’t, what each of us likes! Then he went out and got all the stuff we needed and the drinks too! I helped carry them back, though. There’s so much and it’s all so good!”

Just then, Virgil noticed that Logan had slipped silently into the room and was placing down bowls of snacks. In opposition to Roman’s smile, Logan’s cheeks had flushed a soft pink at Patton’s kind words.

“And I suggested watching movies! I thought it would be nice, we haven’t done it in a while! We all picked a movie each and we decided to have your favourite one to start, because you weren’t able to be here to pick because of classes. I hope that’s okay, Virgil!”

Virgil had long since given up holding tears back. He buried his face in Roman’s chest to avoid showing that tears were rolling down his cheeks. Thankfully, none of them said anything about it. The only acknowledgement they gave were physical ones. Roman’s arm tightened for a moment, and Patton squeezed him tighter too; simple actions that let Virgil know they cared. Logan, after placing their respective cups and drinks down and taking a seat on the bed himself, reached past Patton and grabbed a hold of Virgil’s hand gently.

Roman started the movie and placed the controller down, freeing up a hand that was quickly grabbed by Patton. Virgil was surrounded by arms and warmth and love, and it broke him. He sobbed silently, his body quivering and shaking as he tried to not let out a sound.

He knew they’d have heard it when he was walking home. They were his soulmates after all. Of course, they’d hear his music. That was how it worked. It was how they’d all found each other in the first place.

Roman listening to the same section of a song from the musical he’d been cast in to get the lyrics down had led all three of them to seeing said musical and approaching Roman at the end of the show. Though, of course, life wasn’t going to be so easy on them all, and they just had to go and see it on different nights, confusing Roman. It was so unlikely to have multiple soulmates, yet it seemed like he did have them. He’d never met any of the three who’d approached him, so it was highly unlikely they would be playing a prank on him… He had a lot to think about.

Patton listened to children singing nursery rhymes frequently due to his volunteering at the university’s child care centre. This had Virgil passing by with the hopes he could maybe get an idea of who it could be. When he saw Logan, Roman and Patton exiting one day, all smiling in their own ways, Virgil had written it off and barely thought about it. He didn’t even consider that the three of them were soulmates, let alone his. But the three of them had found each other.

And then the trio had needed a fourth person to live in their house with them. They put out a call on the university facebook page and – by some miracle of self-confidence – Virgil had answered. Things had been easy going for the first few weeks; Virgil found out that the three of them were soulmates and he was the odd one out, nothing really new there for him. But then, the oddest thing happened when Virgil skipped out on watching a movie. He’d decided to try and drown out the sound of his housemates bonding with his own music. And then Roman had burst through his door and picked Virgil from his chair into a spinning, spine-crushing hug.

It took some explanation and several assurances that they were not confused nor playing a cruel and unusual joke on him, but Virgil had – eventually - accepted that he’d been rooming with his soulmates this whole time. And everything fell into place. Things became easier, calmer, nicer.

Virgil had opened up to them a little. He explained to them that he was sorry about the almost constant music from him but that it was a form of comfort, that he had playlists and songs for almost every mood. He’d shown them, and played, his entire depression playlist one day.

Back in the present, Virgil let out a snort of a laugh as he remembered that. Once again, his soulmates didn’t acknowledge it, knowing that if they did, it would only make things worse. They all knew to wait for Virgil to open up to them about it, if he ever wanted to. Virgil moved his face from Roman’s chest, turning so he could see the screen. He used his free hand to wipe away from of the tears before he relaxed fully. He was already feeling far better. It wasn’t a cure-all, everything wasn’t magically fine, but it was better and that was all Virgil could ask for.

---

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Roman Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Morality Sanders #Logic Sanders #Creativity Sanders #LAMP #College AU #This is def a little self-indulgent

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xsteriism · 5 years

Text

The Aftermath

73 Questions Continued

by celestial-irondad

2, 681 words

——

tagging: @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad @hollandrecs @snowflakeparker @peterparkerspidgeons @illegalchandler @jaijaiwriter

——

Breaking News: Tony Stark has a kid? Click here to read—

Mystery Stark child seen in recent vogue interview—

Former Playboy, Tony Stark— with child?

——

Peter was bunched up in his thickest hoodie and most comfortable sweatpants he owned. Sunglasses on and hood up, Peter walked down the hallways of Midtown High School. He looked like a fashion disaster, and it doesn’t help him hide from the stares of his fellow schoolmates.

“Dude, you look a mess.” It’s the first thing Ned said as soon as he sees Peter, bunched up like it’s in the middle of winter.

Peter hummed his wordless response, taking his sunglasses off, tucking it safely into his bag. “Did you see the news?”

His best friend rolled his eyes. “Like you have to ask. Mr. Stark’s son? What?”

The vigilante winced, making panicked motions to lower Ned’s voice. He looked around the hallway, and hopes it’s his imagination that the other students are looking— staring at him.

“I don’t know, man,” Peter all but whimpered, running his fingers through his messy brown hair. “I just found out this morning.”

Ned rolled his eyes yet again. “It’s the interview you crashed, bro. How did you even do that? How did you not notice a huge camera following you everywhere?”

Peter wanted to bury his head in soil. “I don’t know, man. I was sleep-deprived and tired and hungry and everything in between. It didn’t even click in my head that Mr. Stark was being interviewed until Pepper walked in, and even then my thoughts were still muddled.”

His best friend nodded along sympathetically like he understood, biting his lip to keep his laughter in. “You’re the smartest idiot I know.”

The teen groaned, burying his head in his hands. If he couldn’t bury his head in soil, his hands were the next best thing. Ned doesn’t help his crisis as he shows Peter all the articles claiming that Peter was Mr. Stark’s son. There was no possible way that the other kids at school hasn’t seen at least one of these and it’s making the vigilante anxious.

As the turned into their classroom, Peter’s spidey-sense tingles before he’s pulled back by the hood and slammed into a nearby wall. Peter hopes he didn’t dent or break the weak material of the wall. The teen looked up to the sight of Flash’s face, red with anger.

“Tony Stark’s son? Who do you think you are?” Flash sneered, “Are you that desperate for attention that you’ll lie on the internet? We all know your parents are dead.”

Peter flinched, the attack so uncalled for he has no time to prepare an appropriate response. Bringing up his parents was a low blow, and everyone knew that.

“Uh— realistically, I don’t have the resources or money to bribe or buy all those news articles,” Peter schooled his expression to not reveal any more than he already has. He knows Flash is insecure, rash and reckless, but he has no right talking about his parents the way he does.

Flash shouts his frustration, shoving Peter further back into the wall. The bell rings, the crowd thins and Peter stumbles into his class with Ned asking if he’s okay.

——

Lunch is not any better, with all the intrusive stares on Peter’s back. MJ and Ned doesn't seem to notice, both doing whatever it is that they do. The teen tries to refocus his attention back to his food, tries to block his anxiety from getting the best of him.

Then, a girl with blonde hair walks up to their table, smile big and teeth bright as she smiles. “Hi, Pete! You were really cool in that interview, even if you crashed it.” Her laugh, fake and obnoxious, makes MJ cringe, while Peter has to take some time to reboot his brain to form a proper response. “Uh, thanks? I didn’t even know I crashed it until I saw the video for myself.”

Stupid Peter, why did he tell her that? He tries to not notice that the stares are getting more intense.

“I’m—”

“Nobody cares,” MJ interrupted, waving her hand flippantly like she was physically trying to remove the girl from her sight. Peter had no idea if he should be grateful for MJ or sorry for the girl.

This was no doubt humiliating for the girl, but Peter’s happy he doesn’t have to deal with her anymore. She stomped away, huffing her contempt as she rejoined her own group of friends. Peter shoots a grateful glance to MJ, who doesn’t even acknowledge it.

——

Tony winced as he read the headlines F.R.I.D.A.Y showed. He’s definitely sure that Peter has seen these articles, because they were all over the internet. The engineer hasn’t entered his social media accounts yet, but he’s sure there’s some hashtag trending.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y honey,” Tony sighed, swiping the holograms away. “Has Pepper called yet?”

“Ms. Potts is currently getting the PR team to deal with this, she will be calling shortly.”

He pulled up his twitter and his prediction is correct, #TonyIsSuchADad is trending along with some others. He scrolled through some, smiling at all the GIFs of Peter and himself being domestic. Then he shakes his head to rid himself of the thought; he’s supposed to curb these rumours, not smile like a fool at them.

True to F.R.I.D.A.Y’s prediction, Pepper calls Tony just as he’s entering Instagram. “Tony, I need you to—”

“Yeah, I see it. I see them. What do you need me to do?” He jumped straight to the point, hoping Peter isn’t having too much trouble in school. “I can release a statement, go on TV, whatever you want.”

Pepper laughed and Tony can already imagine the crinkles by her eyes. “Normally, I have to kill before you even consider going on TV, and now since the kid’s involved, you’re offering to go on TV?”

The genius rolled his eyes, starting to pace a little in his lab. “The kid doesn’t want the attention on him, Pep, I have to fix this.”

“Okay, I’m arranging a press conference as we speak. They’ll arrive tomorrow and you can clear this up,” Pepper sighed and Tony can hear the click click of her heels as she walked.

Tony can feel his body relaxing, smiling as he thanked Pepper before hanging up. Just as he was going back to work, F.R.I.D.A.Y alerts him of a phone call from Ned. The billionaire frowned, because why on earth would Peter’s friend call during school?

“Mr. Stark, oh my god you picked up, wow I wasn’t expecting that,” Ned rambled as soon as Tony accepts the call. Tony’s anxiety is rising as the teen rambles, not getting to the point of his call soon enough.

“Ted,” he interrupted, “what’s going on?”

There’s silence on the other line, then murmuring, before Ned chuckled nervously. “Uh— ha, you see, Peter’s kind of having sensory overload and—”

“I’m on my way, get him somewhere quiet.”

——

Peter genuinely thought he would be able to get through the day without any incidents, but he should’ve known that it was wishful thinking, because now he’s having a killer headache. It started with a nudge here, a casual touch there, and suddenly Peter’s the most popular kid around. It was no wonder he was feeling a little too much a little too fast.

He’s surrounded by a small crowd of people pretending to be concerned, asking annoying questions like are you okay?

Yes, he’s on the ground, crying in pain and he’s okay.

The overwhelmed teen is willing to dive into mud if he can escape his oncoming sensory overload. He’s vaguely aware of Ned calling Mr. Stark despite his protests, and being guided to the nurse’s office.

After a few achingly long moments of writhing on the bed because of the blinding fluorescent lights, with the nurse shuffling in the background that sounded like the amplified sound of nails on chalkboard to Peter, the creaky door was finally nudged open.

Mr. Stark walked in almost soundlessly, right past the star-struck nurse, straight to Peter, and slipped his Stark-made noise-cancelling earphones over his ears. A-grade sunglasses came next, and Peter relaxed significantly when both sound and brightness became bearable. The young vigilante couldn’t help but feel embarrassed when his mentor helped slip on gloves over his shaking hands, feeling his cheeks warm as the delicate hands wiped away the tears on his face.

Peter felt himself being lifted into strong arms, relieved that he doesn’t have to use his trembling legs. And even in his half-hazy mind, Peter is lucid enough to notice the many eyes on him and can hear the muffled whispers about him.

His mentor shifts him so that Peter has his legs wrapped around the billionaire’s waist and his arms hung comfortably over his shoulders. The typical way a parent would carry a child.

The teen buries his face into his mentor’s neck, uncaring of the way his sunglasses digs into the bridge of his nose. He smells the familiar mild but masculine scent of his mentor’s favourite fragrance and can’t help but to relax even more.

“Don’t worry, Pete,” his mentor’s whisper could be heard through his noise-cancelling headphones. “I’ll get you home.”

——

Peter awoke to muffled voices. The room was pitch black, but Peter could still make out every single shape. He tugged his earphones off, relieved to note that his senses had calmed.

“What were you thinking?” A faint voice from the hallway caught his attention. Was that Ms. Potts?

A cough and the reply came. “So I know, maybe carrying the kid out of school like that wasn’t my best idea, but he was hurting and—”

“You made it worse, Tony!” Ms. Potts sounded like she was going to strangle Mr. Stark. “The tabloids are having a field day with the pictures the students posted online.”

Silence.

A soft sigh, “Tony, it’s alright. You know I fix things like these. I’m sorry I yelled, go take care of your kid.”

“He’s not my kid, Pep,” a grumbled reply came, but after a few seconds the door to Peter’s room slid open, and Mr. Stark walked in with gentle footsteps.

The king-sized bed dipped, causing Peter’s too light body to slide along and they could feel each other’s body heat. “Hey kid, you feeling okay?”

The teen offered his mentor a small smile, even though his body felt too heavy. He managed a small nod and the engineer’s eyes softened, hand reaching out to push Peter’s hair away so that it wasn’t covering his eyes.

“I’ll fix things,” Mr. Stark said, clenching his hand into a fist as he brought it back to his side. “Don’t worry you brilliant mind, okay? Just rest. I’ll clear this up in no time.”

Peter feels tears prick at his eyes at his mentor’s care and blames it on the aftereffects of the sensory overload. He’s grateful for the dark room, the only source of light from the slightly adjacent door. He grabbed Mr. Stark’s hand in a moment of impulse, squeezing it lightly in case he overestimated his strength.

“Thank you.”

Mr. Stark is many things, but seeing his innocent child lie in a bed, looking so fragile while thanking him makes him want to throw away all his titles and hide away with Peter. “Between you and me, Pete, there’s no need for the phrases ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry,’ okay? I’m here to protect you.”

The kid smiles a bright one this time and the genius has to really hold back from saying, ‘screw you’ to the world and hide the child in a castle far, far away from humanity. He leaves after Peter falls back to sleep, readying himself to solve their little problem.

——

Peter wakes up to nobody. He’s alone in Mr. Stark’s penthouse floor, and May hasn’t ended work yet, so he decides to stay for a while. He trudged to the living room, nearly becoming one with the couch as soon as he reaches it and switched the flatscreen on.

The first thing he sees is Mr. Stark’s face. The billionaire is sporting his infamous sunglasses again, even though he’s indoors and there’s no sunlight. He’s adorning an immaculate three-piece suit, tie perfectly tied and is for once sitting appropriately.

“Rumours has it that you have a son now, Mr. Stark,” the interviewer starts, pulling out a framed picture from under his desk. A camera zooms in onto a picture of Mr. Stark carrying Peter like a toddler.

It’s the first time that Peter’s seeing the picture, so he takes a closer look. Mr. Stark is cradling his head as if protecting him from the surrounding students who are gaping openly at them. Peter also looks ridiculous with his hoodie, noise-cancelling headphones, sunglasses and gloves on.

“What do you have to say, Mr. Stark?”

Said man pushed his sunglasses further up his nose, as if that could shield him from the spotlight. “He’s not my kid.”

Peter knows that Pepper probably had a script that Tony has to follow, to ensure he doesn’t mess up in front of live television, as well as to stop rumours. Realistically, Peter knows that those words are said to also deter people from targeting him in case they want revenge on Mr. Stark, but the cold words hurt nonetheless.

Mr. Stark had been calling him his ‘kid’ from the moment they met, with a few other nicknames here and there, so really, his hurt was understandable.

“Ah, he’s my personal intern,” Mr. Stark clarified, when the audience started clamouring. “He’s the only one allowed in my lab to get a hands-on learning experience.”

A small smile played at Mr. Stark’s lip, and before the interviewer can say anything, he speaks up again. “He’s very talented, a quick learner, very efficient in the lab, innovative too. If the rest of his generation is like him, we have nothing to worry about.”

Stunned, the interviewer and the audience went silent for a few moments.

“I’m sure he is, Mr. Stark, you are Stark Industries’ inventor after all, your lab should be efficient,” the interviewer said to dissipate the awkward tension. “The real question now is, does this intern have social media? We would all love to know more about him.”

The audience cheers, the sound so deafening that Peter could see Mr. Stark’s perfect features contort for a split second. He cleared his throat, calming the audience. “If he’s willing, I’m sure we can create the accounts for him.”

Once again, the audience explodes and Peter smiles, switching the channel to something significantly calmer, namely, Cartoon Network.

——

parker intern

@internparker

S.I. intern baby

2681 followers, 20 following

*** followed by @tstark, @nataliaromanova, @capamerica, and four others

——

parker intern @internparker

ello world! mr. stark says to not do anything stupid

you know who ✔️ @tstark

Are you sure you want that to be your first tweet?

parker intern @internparker

i’m not doing anything stupid!!!

——

<3000 @threethousand

THE GODS HAVE ANSWERED WE HAVE QUALITY IRONDAD CONTENT NOW NO MORE RUMOURS GUYS

cheeseburger @ironmanslays

i would like to thank our god and saviour jesus christ, as well as mY god ironman for making this happen

——

Peter went home to May with a bright smile on his face. After Mr. Stark came back, they talked about the social media and created the account together. Peter knows the ‘do’s and ‘don’t’s on what he’s allowed to post, but he’s still happy because Mr. Stark looks happy.

He’s still amazed at Pepper’s god-like work, how she managed to get an interviewer willing to interview Mr. Stark with such short notice was baffling, but he’s happy she did it, because the rumours had been stopped. Sure, everybody now knows that he’s an intern at Stark Industries, but he could live with that.

Besides, having the twitter account was a blast.

——

I hope you enjoyed!!!

btw should i make a taglist? If you're interested comment a ‘💙’?

#celestial irondad #peter parker #Precious Peter Parker #tony stark #protective Tony #fluff #tony stark fluff #Peter Parker fluff

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the-gonegirl · 4 years

Text

Here it is guys, the first few pages of my PoF Fanfiction.

Gazing out at the night sky, she took in the flashes of light. The bolts of lightning forking across the sky were nothing new, the thunderstorms had increased just lately and this newest spectacle was just the latest in a long line of natural phenomena to crash over Britain. What was new, however. Was the lack of thunder to this thunderstorm.

It was like an old ritual to her, to count the seconds between the lightning and thunder. Calculate how far away the lightning was and thank god it wasn’t above her head.

But this storm was lacking one element. The lightning wasn’t accompanied by its usual companion. This time there was no crack of thunder, no partner to this dance. The lightning was a lone wolf, howling soundlessly through the sky.

Picking up her phone, she dialed the long since familiar number of her best friend. Carmen.

After three rings the usual click of the receiver sounded and Carmen’s bright voice trickled through the receiver.

‘I was just about to phone you, are you watching it too?’ Carmen asked, wistful as ever.

‘Where’s the thunder’ she asked, her voice lacking Carmen’s brightness. She sounded sad, almost resigned.

It was a miracle the phone lines still worked, or the internet for that matter. The national grid hadn’t been knocked out. Not yet.

Between the war in the far north, the tsunami that hit Australia, the famine and drought in the south, there wasn’t a corner of the world that hadn’t been touched by them. By the Old Ones.

But of course, no one knew it was the Old Ones. At least almost no one.

‘Gigi?’ Carmen’s voice brought her crashing back to reality.

Gigi sighed, ‘Yeah I’m here. It’s them, I know it is’

Carmen sighed now, ‘The bad ones?’

‘The Old Ones’ Gigi corrected her.

‘Gigi, I don’t think… look’ a pause ‘are you taking your medication?’

Gigi bristled. ‘Yes.’

Carmen saw right through the lie, ‘No you’re not, look. Do I need to come stay with you for a bit again?’

Gigi thought it over, she enjoyed the company. But the work she was doing was too important to have eyes prying.

‘Hmm’ she said ‘No its okay, I’m okay. Really’.

Against her cheek, her phone vibrated. Glancing down at it for a second. She registered that it was a message on her blog. That was unusual, she thought. She hardly ever got messages on her blog and when she did it was the usual torrent of abuse.

She sighed again.

‘Carmen I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later, alright. I’m fine, really’.

She clicked the end button to the sounds of Carmen’s protests.

Opening the message, she read it with some interest.

Hi,

How do you know about the Old Ones?

Her heart skipped a beat as she eyed the message for a minute before sitting down to pen a response, mulling over what to put.

Why would I tell you that, I don’t know you?

The response came quickly.

Fair enough,

My name’s Scott.

What’s yours?

Gigi.

How do YOU know about the Old Ones?

I asked first.

Okay…

You’ll probably think I’m crazy… but I read about them in a book.

What book?

A monk’s diary.

Gigi waited and waited, but no response ever came back.

She sighed again, putting down her phone.

Turning to the laptop, open in front of her. She pulled it closer and she sat down to pen a new article on her blog. Trying and failing to come up with anything worthwhile to write that she hadn’t before, she stopped and started for a good half hour before she resigned herself to the fact it just wasn’t going to happen that day.

As she pulled on her headphones; music trickled through the speakers straight into her mind. She danced along as she minimized the blog and opened her writing, cautiously typing away on the keys. Her mind drifted, the words seemingly coming out on their own. Flowing across the page with ease. As she wrote, a bird flapped down to the open window. Gigi looked up and smiled at it, holding a hand out to the creature; she cooed to it. But it just flew away.

She looked back to her laptop, smiling sadly to herself and closed the lid.

Scott pushed his chair back from the desk.

Reading and rereading the last message.

Picking up the laptop, he left the room.

Finding the others in the outside sitting area. He put it in front of them,

‘Read this’

Jamie leaned forward. Struggling the make out the words on the screen.

The others leaned in too.

Silence weaved its way through the group like a disease.

Turning to Scott, Matt asked. ‘Where did you find her?’

‘She’s got this... Blog. At first, I thought it was your typical conspiracy theory, end of the world, nutcase type thing. But get this, she talks about the Old Ones. A lot.’.

He sat down heavily.

‘Ask her how she got hold of the diary’ Richard piped up. ‘Try and get as much information out of her as you can’.

‘Me?’ Scott asked, confused. He glanced at Jamie, who nodded eagerly at him.

‘You’ve already contacted her; we don’t want to scare her off’. Jamie said, he lowered his voice. ‘You’ve got this, I know you can do it’.

Scott smiled at him. Pulling the laptop closer again and cautiously typing away.

PING

A new message came through on her blog, Gigi yawned and looked down at her phone. The time: 3.30am flashed back at her through the dim.

Are you open to meeting?

Gigi blinked then read the message again, No, was her first thought. But then again… maybe it was crazy. No, she wouldn’t meet him… but she could always Skype him, the thought occurred to her.

We could Skype?

Skype could work.

When?

As soon as possible?

How about now?

Gigi laughed.

You’re not in the UK, are you? Its 3.30 in the morning right now.

His fingers hovered over the keys for a second.

Oh sorry, no I’m not. I’m actually in Peru right now

It’s 9.30pm here.

How about in the morning?

Gigi?

But Gigi had fallen asleep, her phone pressed against her chest.

Sorry! I fell asleep

I imagine its not morning for you, for a while. Shall we say at 10 am for you?

Gigi looked down at her hands, rubbing them together.

He was probably asleep, she thought to herself.

Wondering what to do, she cast around the room. Eyeing the guitar in the corner and the rows of books, laying unread.

I could write for a bit. The thought came to her suddenly.

Gigi enjoyed writing stories. Well, she had until she had found the diary.

She sighed, sitting down to pen out more on her story anyway. There wasn’t much better to do till she heard back from him.

She spent the whole day worrying about the skype call. But when it finally came through at 4 o’clock exactly, she was relieved.

Gigi turned to the sound trickling from her laptop. The distinctive ring of an incoming call.

Wringing her hands together, she sat down in front of the screen. Nervousness clawing its way down in her stomach. With a deep breathe, she clicked answer.

The figure on the screen looked about as nervous as she felt, she mused to herself. Her anxiety levels lowering briefly.

‘Hi’ he said.

A little shyly, she thought to herself.

‘Hi’ she said.

He smiled at her.

She smiled back.

Scott looked down. He was nervous, really nervous. He wasn’t sure why one of the others hadn’t done this, he didn’t really feel like he was the right person for the job.

But here she was, blinking in front of him in HD.

He cast around for something, anything to say. He hadn’t prepared for this, though now he wished he had.

She was beautiful, he thought to himself. In a strange kind of way. Short dark blue hair, down to her chin stuck out at all angles.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Then they both tried to talk at the same time.

They laughed.

‘Go on’ she said, her eyes twinkling.

‘What’s the weather like there?’ he asked, it sounded stupid. He knew it full well, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

With a laugh, she turned the laptop to the window. Showing him the rain falling heavily outside.

‘What about you?’ she asked,

He did the same, the screen illuminated by the bright sunlight.

She sighed, ‘I’ll trade you’

That got a smile out of him, she thought.

She looked down, taking the opportunity to remind herself to breathe.

He was attractive, she couldn’t deny it. She would have guessed about the same age as her. His dark hair was falling in his face. It was long, down to his shoulders.

‘So, the Old Ones’

She looked up at him, head tilted to the side.

‘The Old Ones’ she said, grimacing.

‘How’d you come across the Monks diary, Gigi?’ he said, getting straight to the point.

‘I can’t tell you that, Scott’ she said, sighing.

‘Why not?’ he was slightly annoyed, he didn’t particularly want to be doing this. But he’d promised Jamie he would do it, so here he was.

‘I don’t know anything about you, tell me why you want to know and maybe I’ll tell you’

‘You know more about me then you think’ he said, suddenly thinking of something.

‘Do I? how?’

‘Hang on’. He leaned forward, typing on the laptop for a minute.

A link buzzed in the chat box.

She clicked it open and was faced with her own article, taken straight from her blog.

The Five and why we need them. The title screamed at her in black and white.

Minimizing the screen, she watched him for a minute.

‘What exactly are you saying?’ she asked. Watching him wearily.

‘I’m one of the five’ he said, holding her gaze through the screen.

She blinked at him, raising an eyebrow ‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘We all are’ he said.

‘Who’s we?’ she asked alarmed.

Scott sighed. ‘There’s four of us so far. Hang on, Jamie. Come here’ he said. Waving someone off screen over to him.

A second face appeared on screen.

Gigi blinked at them. Once, Twice.

‘Jamie’s my brother’ Scott explained, smiling.

‘Yes, I can see that’ Gigi remarked, eyeing the twins. They were perfectly identical. Down to every last hair on their head.

‘and you’re both… one of the five?’

‘There’s Matt and Pedro too’ Jamie explained, sitting down next to Scott.

‘Tell me something only the five would know’ she said. ‘So, I know you are who you say you are’. She desperately wanted to believe them. But she had to know, had to made sure. She needed to be positive if she was going to tell them about the diary.

Exchanging a look with Jamie, Scott turned to the screen and sighed.

‘We know about the doors.’

‘Anyone could know about the doors’ Gigi pointed out, trying and failing to sound certain.

‘There’s one In Lake Tahoe, Nevada. We went through it and ended up at Cuzco, Peru.’

‘You went … through the doors?’ she asked, taken aback for a second.

Okay, she thought to herself This changed things.

She shimmied closer to the screen.

Scott was eyeing Gigi as she looked back at them with something like awe.

‘You really are, aren’t you? You’re one of the Five’ she said, gazing across at them.

She smiled then, a genuine smile. It opened up her face in a way he hadn’t noticed before.

He smiled back at her.

‘Do you have powers? The diary talked about powers….’ She trailed off.

Jamie laughed, ‘Yes we have powers, we’re telepathic, Matt can move things with his mind and Pedro’s a healer’.

She was speechless.

‘Show me.’ She said finally.

Jamie Laughed again. ‘It’s not going to work with you so far away, Gigi’.

Frowning, Gigi got up from her chair and paced back and forth in front of the screen.

‘We want to meet you, in person. To talk about the diary, the Old Ones, all of it really’ Jamie said,

Scott had frozen up. This happened an awful lot and it worried Jamie every time.

Glancing at his brother, he continued.

‘We think the last of the five is in the UK, we’re going to fly over soon and meet with her. Can we meet with you too?’

‘Meet with me? Why would you want to do that?’ she asked, alarmed. Thinking hard to herself, she tried to come up with a way out of it. Panic crept into her heart.

Because the truth was, Gigi hadn’t left her house in months, she was too scared to. She seemed to permanently live, camped out in her Living Room. With the curtains drawn, the dim light of her laptop the only thing illuminating her. Gigi’s family and friends had long since given up trying to help her out of the dark hole she lived in. Everybody that was, except Carmen.

Jamie was taken aback. ‘I thought you would want to meet us’ he said, his hurt obvious in his voice.

‘YES! sorry no, that’s not what I meant. It’s just… I do want to meet you, that would be... so good’ her voice faltered in the end. She cursed herself for being so anxious.

‘How soon, is soon?’ she asked, cautiously.

‘In about two weeks’ Jamie replied, smiling at her again.

Gigi stopped pacing, that was soon. Sooner then she had expected.

She wasn’t sure she could do this. A Skype call was one thing. But meeting up meant leaving the house, leaving the safety of this makeshift sanctuary she had made for herself. The situation, it had slowly crept up on her, till she felt she couldn’t leave the house at all.

‘Two weeks’ she repeated.

‘Is that okay?’ Jamie asked,

‘Yeah, sure. Two weeks’.

Two weeks could work, she thought to herself. That gave her time to prepare.

Jamie smiled at her again.

‘So, how did you come across the monk’s diary?’ he asked.

Gigi blew out a breath. ‘Oh, I don’t know. How long do you have? It’s a long story’

Jamie checked his watch, ‘we’ve got time’.

Gigi sat down in front of the screen once more.

‘Ages ago I worked in this little, old book shop. We would get donations of books all the time and I was the one that would sort through them all, well as you probably guessed we got given the diary. It was just dumped on us with a load of other books one day. I was bored, so I decided to read it. With some difficulty, its mainly in Spanish. But I like a challenge. So I pulled out my dictionary and started translating and let me tell you, its really something. Demons, witches, Old Ones. End of the world. The Five.’ She looked at them wistfully for a few minutes.

‘How come you believed it?’ Scott asked, finally getting the words out.

‘Well, I didn’t at first. But then…’.

‘Something happened?’ he guessed, ‘What happened?’ he asked,

She sighed.

‘You wouldn’t believe me’ she said, quietly.

‘I think we would believe almost anything’ Jamie said with a laugh.

‘What if it’s the almost, though’ she asked, suddenly sounding very anxious.

The twins exchanged a look.

‘What happened?’ Scott asked again.

‘It’d be easier to show you, but... could I do it when we meet?’

‘Sure…’ Jamie said. ‘We should get going’ he glanced at Scott again, ‘It was nice to meet you Gigi’

‘Yeah’ she smiled ‘It was nice to meet you too’

‘Can we call you again? Maybe tomorrow?’

Gigi raised an eyebrow, ‘Okay’ she said simply.

‘Bye Gigi’.

‘Bye.’ She said. Leaning forward and clicking the end button.

Gigi stared at the blank screen for a minute, then smiled to herself. That had been…interesting.

#Power of Five #Po5 #Pof

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littlemsstark3000 · 5 years

Note

050: "I planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to whole proposing thing." (Here I am again)

Hope you'll like this! 😊

*****

"Babe?"

It was only half past five in the morning and the first person Natasha saw as soon as she opened the front door was Tony - in his hoodie, black sweatpants and a pair of Nike - leaning on his car.

"Morning, sweetheart!" His face, sans the usual dark glasses, was brighter than the sun that has yet to fully rise, despite his fresh-from-shower, non-waxed hair strands going on opposite directions.

She grinned and reached him in huge steps and gave him a peck on the lips. "Why're you here?"

"Thought of joining your morning jog." He smiled back, placing his hands on her hips.

"Wow. This is a first. So proud of you."

She curled her headphones again and placed it in her pocket. If she was to jog with her boyfriend, she would not need her playlist.

"Good job, Tony." The billionaire literally pat his own back over his shoulder. "Then breakfast after?"

She rolled her eyes. "After at least 5 km, okay?"

"Whatever you say, darling. We'll bring the car and just park nearby so we can go straight to the diner later."

Once he has opened the door for her and has settled in the driver's seat, he pointed to the tumblers and the rolled linens on their either sides.

"Towel. Water."

"Oh, you came prepared." She chuckled as she pulled her hair to a ponytail and fastened her seat-belt.

"Always." He winked then started driving.

>>>>>

"You alright?" Natasha asked Tony when he started panting heavier. They have finished seven rounds in the park which is almost her target of eight, not to mention the doubled energy they possibly exerted because they were also chatting as they jogged side by side.

"Of course." He looked at her still smiling, both of them sweating good.

She started to slow down her pace. "Let's just walk."

"No, no, no... I'm okay. I'm fine." He looked back to her as he continued jogging.

"It's okay, babe. I'm almost done with 5 km. We can just walk one more round to cool down."

Natasha knew that this routine of her already required much effort from him given his lifestyle, which was not as healthy as hers. Even if he has stopped wallowing in alcohol long time ago, he still pulled all-nighters for work and has higher-than-normal coffee intake. Running and training in the gym has never been part of his daily routine, though he did so sporadically.

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

He slowed down his pace too, until they were just briskly walking, and later, casually walking, holding hands.

They headed to the car park and after downing their respective tumblers of water, they laughed as they wiped sweat off each other.

"Thanks for waking up and driving early just to join me." Natasha said as they both leaned on the hood of the car.

"I can't say anytime, darling, but once in a while is fine." Tony noted with all honesty.

She smirked. "Can't wait for us to be married so we're already living in one roof and I can drag you out to make that once-in-a-while a little more frequent." Then she combed his unkempt hair with her fingers. "Should we be talking about the wedding soon? What do you think?"

Tony froze and she felt it has something to do with what she just said.

"Hey." She placed a hand on his chest. "Why do you look so shocked?"

He was just staring at her; his mouth opened but closed again without a word.

"Tony. Don't tell me you haven't thought about marrying or living with me."

Her tone, this time, was lower, indicating that she was holding off her anxiety and masking it with indifference.

Was Tony still unsure of her after more than a year of them being in, she would like to think, a serious and matured relationship? Was he still scared to commit? Was he not seeing her as his better half while she was - after thinking damn hard about it - now ready to be his wife?

Did she just read everything they have been through wrongly? Or was it too much to ask?

"No, Tash -"

She turned her back on him, crossing her arms and trying her hardest to contain her heaving chest.

"Wait, listen, sweetie..." Tony moved to face her again.

With an invisible weight in heart, she was about to take the first step to walking away. "I get it -"

"Sweetheart!" He sighed and cupped her face in his hands, though he looked like he wanted to face-palm instead. "I had a romantic proposal planned out today over breakfast. The team is there at the diner waiting for us and... you just ruined it by beating me to this whole proposal thing, my love."

It was her who reflected the look of shock all of a sudden.

"Y-you would?"

He nodded. "Racked my brains for weeks. Deciding on which ring, my speech... when, where, how."

She stiffened. "They are... there?"

"By now, they should be. Everyone left the compound after we did. And yeah, they all woke up way earlier too to help me prepare this surprise."

Her hands covered half of her face as she apologized. "Oh my... I... Babe, I'm sorry..."

But Tony was quick to pacify her. "Ssshh, it's okay." He kissed her forehead. "Anyway, we can still do it, right?"

Her eyebrows furrowed as if asking what he meant.

"I'd just need you to let that mission-level acting prowess out and look surprised when I pop the question later in front of them," he explained as he guided her by the shoulders to the passenger seat.

"Okay... I can do that."

"Great."

He went over to his side and has started the engine when he turned to her again. "And you're really gonna say yes?"

"Of course, you handsome dimwit. Do you still doubt that?" Natasha gently grabbed his hand to her lap. "I love you."

"Just making sure. I love you, too," he replied, kissing the back of her right hand. "Let's reserve the ring and more kisses for later."

Natasha chuckled. "Yeah, we should."

#prompt #natasha romanoff #tony x natasha #black widow #au #tonynatasha #iron widow #tony stark #iron man #ironwidow #marvel #mcu #otp #avengers #tonynat

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bensboynton · 5 years

Text

be there b.h

anon asked: hey may I please have an imagine where you are away on a work trip for like a couple of months and Ben has to look after his teenage daughter and she gets her period and he freaks out before taking care of her and figuring life out? maybe he can ring Gwilym because you’re not picking up your phone? sorry if that’s weird

I got so inspired reading this prompt omfg… i think this turned out pretty good lemme know what you think! I also decided to write this in a different tense than i normally do.

y/n isn’t really involved in this, but she’s mentioned a bit :)

wc: 1.8k

warnings: swearing, unedited, mentions of periods and everything that goes along with it, fluffy ben w daughter

“Remember, soccer practice 5-6:30 on Tuesday and Thursday, and she’s having Madison over for a sleepover on Friday, so you need to get them pizza and ice cream if they ask. Check on them once every few hours but not too much-”

“Honey, I got it under control. I promise.” Ben chuckled at his wife’s excessive worrying. It really can’t be that hard taking care of a teenage girl alone for a week, can it? “You’ll be late for your flight.” Ben continued. She let her eyes graze over the expanse of her home before leaning in and kissing her husband on the lips.

“I’ll see you in a week. Good luck.” She said, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Ben laughed, but deep down was slightly nervous. He hasn’t been the sole caretaker of Allison for longer than five days, and that was when she was four.

She was a lot nicer when she was four.

Now she’s 13, and she spends a lot of time in her room and always asks to go to her friend's house. Not that Ben would complain, though. He was convinced he was the favorite parent (even though Allison never told him that).

Tonight, you were planning on taking her to the mom and pop diner, Delilah's Diner, that was around the block from their house, which happened to be Ally’s favorite place to eat.

“Al, we’re going to head over to Delilah’s in ten minutes is that good?” Ben bellowed through the house, hoping she could hear him. There wasn’t a response.

“Allison? Did you hear? We’re leaving in ten.” Ben tried again, but all that followed his words was silence. She must have her damn headphones in. Ben was starting to go up the stairs when Allison bounded down them, her blonde locks flying behind her.

“Do you think we could just go now?” She said breathlessly when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, I guess so. Are you hungry?” Ally nodded feverishly before hooking her arm with her dad’s and walking them out to the car. Ben’s heart melted at her gesture.

Ben and Ally had an oddly amazing conversation at dinner. They had sat and talked for two hours about anything and everything that came to mind. They had milkshakes and ate way more food then they should have.

After they were finished, the pair walked home, laughing and reminiscing on when Ally was little, or when Ben and Y/N first started dating. She was especially intrigued when Ben told her how her mom had dumped Ben for a solid two weeks before they got back together.

Ally went into her room when they got home and changed into comfier clothes, and met Ben back in the living room. The two of them sat on the couch and watched an entire season of Riverdale. Ben hadn’t seen the first season and was incredibly out of the loop and asked Ally about a thousand questions.

“Wait, so are they dating?” He had asked as he took a sip from his glass of water.

“No! Dad, we’ve been over this. They broke up three episodes ago.” Ally had spoke between giggles.

“Ah, that’s right, my bad.” Ben had responded back.

Ben felt his eyes start to droop and a yawn squeeze it’s way through his lip before he looked at the clock and realized the time. “Holy shit, it’s 3 am!” Ben exclaimed, practically jumping up and scaring the shit out of Ally.

“Oh god… so much for me passing my math test tomororw.” Ally muttered, beginning to scurry off to her room. Ben bit his lip in thought.

“If you want… I could keep you home from school? Take you to your ‘doctor’s appointment?” Ben asked, raising his eyebrows playfully at his daughter in the dark.

“I don’t have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” she responded, not seeming to understand where Ben was going with this.

“Yes, darling I know that. But I could keep you home from school and tell a little white lie? If you want.”

“You just asked if I want to stay home from school for no reason? Is that even a question? Yes. Please,” Ally responded, letting out a slight laugh as she ran up to her dad, “thank you, Dad. I love you,” she murmured into his chest.

“I won’t tell Mom if you promise you won’t,” Ben stated, pulling away from Ally slightly.

“Wouldn’t dream of snitching on you.”

“Glad to hear that.”

Ally bounded away from Ben back to her room, and the father’s cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so hard. Maybe he is the favorite parent.

“Ally, you almost ready?” Ben yelled impatiently as he waited for her in the kitchen. His leg was bouncing slightly from anxiety. He was worried Y/N would somehow find out about their shenanigans. There was no answer from his teenage daughter.

“Al?” Ben yelled again. And just like last time, no response. He yelled her name a few more times and there wasn’t an answer. Ben assumed yet again that Ally had her headphones in. He trudged up the stairs, walking into her room to find her bed made and completely empty. He was confused.

“Ally?” Ben said again, before walking out of her room and noticing the light on in the bathroom. He knocked on the door lightly, “you almost ready to go?” he asked. He heard a few sniffles and a soft “yeah.”

His heart dropped at the sound of her voice. She sounded like she had been crying. “Are you okay, love?” Ben spoke through the door, his voice soft and tender. There was a pause before he heard some shuffling from in the bathroom. She opened the door, revealing her slumped shoulders and puffy eyes.

Ben didn’t miss a beat before wrapping her in a tight hug, hoping to comfort her. He searched her eyes for a moment, waiting for her to say something.

“Dad… I-I think I…” she started to say before looking down at her feet in her embarrassment. Ben gently lifted her chin up to look at him again, silently urging her to keep talking.

“I think I just got my period.”

Oh fuck.

This week had been so simple and enjoyable for Ben. He was about to take his daughter out for breakfast and relax all day, probably have some more ice cream. And now he had to figure out how to deal with this.

“Oh. Well… okay. Give me a second, love. Just sit down for a second.”

Ally nodded and sat down on the closed toilet, staring ahead at the wall. Ben walked quickly into the living room, dialing Y/N’s phone number into his phone as fast as he could.

He put it to his ear, expecting to hear his wife’s sing-songy voice in a few moments. But it went to voicemail. Ben repeated the process multiple times, but there was no response. He mumbled a few curses under his breath before closing his eyes to think about what to do.

Gwilym.

He had two daughters, and one of them was well into their teens. He would know. Ben dialed his number, crossing his fingers slightly to increase the chances of Gwil picking up. And he did.

Relief coursed through the body of the blonde at the sound of the lanky man’s voice. He explained what was going on to Gwil, which caused Gwil to let out a chuckle.

“I was the same way when that happened with Kelsie. Her mom was at the store, and I kinda had to figure it out. Leave the ‘talk’ to Y/N; just get her whatever she wants. And make sure she’s not in pain. Let her talk, but let her hide in her room if she wants. Just be there for her.”

Ben was eternally grateful for Gwil’s advice, and made a mental note to send him a thank-you text later on as he walked back to the bathroom.

“Ally? I think your mom has some stuff you could use in her bathroom.” Ben’s voice was quiet and calm, and he led Ally to the bathroom he shared with her mom.

He opened up the cabinet under their sink and grabbed a few pads and tampons, quickly explaining what they were to his daughter.

“This is a pad, which goes in your underwear and just catches all the blood. And this,” Ben paused, holding it in front of him, “is a tampo, and it-”

“Yeah, I know what a tampon is, dad.”

“O-Oh okay.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, on the floor in Ben’s bathroom. “I’m scared, dad,” Ally whispered softly into the silence of the bathroom. Ben whipped his head up to look at her, tears welling up in her eyes. He immediately pulled her into a tight hug, comfortingly rubbing her back.

“Love, it’s really not a big deal! I promise-” Ben began to speak before Ally interrupted.

“It’s not this. I knew it was going to happen I just… it just hit me that I’m not a little kid anymore. And I'm eventually going to college and I’ll live alone and get married and have kids and I’m scared.”

Ben felt his heart shatter in his chest at the sound of his daughter so heartbroken. He pulled away slightly and grabbed her shoulders, looking her directly in the eyes.

“Al, baby. That stuff is in the future. You’ve got a long time to prepare for that. And you’re going to be ready, I know it. Just take things one day at a time. Get through 8th grade before you start worrying about getting married, okay?” he paused and flashed a comforting smile at Ally.

“And your mom and I are going to be there with you, every step of the way. We got your back. We will always be there for you. When you graduate from high school, we’ll be there. When you get married, we’ll be there, god forbid you have kids, we’ll be there! Always. I promise. You’re going to be okay. If I can get through adult life and somehow manage to find someone as amazing as your mom to marry, you’ll do just fine.”

Ally was crying again, trying to wipe the tears out of her eyes before they slid down her cheeks. She gave a half smile at Ben during his little speech.

“I’ll go pick up some breakfast and we’ll finish watching Riverdale, yeah?” Ben spoke, waiting for Ally to approve or deny his little plan. She nodded, and Ben helped her out to the couch. He kissed her lightly on the head before walking out, texting Y/N and filling her in on the situation.

And, even though he hated Riverdale, Ben would watch it over and over again to make his little girl smile. He was scared shitless for Ally’s future and his own, but deep down he knew that as long as he had his two favorite girls in the world by his side, everything would turn out okay.

#ben hardy #ben hardy headcanon #ben hardy fic #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fanfic #ban hardy fanfiction #ben hardy blurb #ben hardy drabble #ben hardy oneshot #queen #queen band #borhap #borhap cast #borhap boys #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody movie

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rebel-by-default · 5 years

Text

Overload

So I had a go at writing an autistic Peter Parker fic. I often headcanon Pete as autistic, and Tony so very clearly has ADHD it often surprises me it’s not canon (at least in the MCU). Anyway, the characters are probably way off, but I mostly wrote it for my own enjoyment.

Peter should have known things were going to go wrong today, the day had been cursed from the start. Waking up 15 minutes before his train left for school, forgetting his headphones, and apparently losing every single fidget toy he owned. The train had been completely packed and overwhelming, the stench of too many people crammed into a small space, mixing with various breakfast foods and the background stink of New York Public Transport.

With nothing to fiddle with, Peter absentmindedly chewed at his hoodie strings, not realising until it was too late, that he had chewed on them far too aggressively. Holding his severed hoodie string in his hand, he sighed and resigned himself to a Bad Day.

By the time Peter trudged into school, he had given up on any hopes of masking as neurotypical. Hood up, sunglasses on and hands slammed tightly over his head, he knew he looked odd, but there was no way he’d make it to class without his hood up.

“Hey Peter! Excited for the Weekend?”

A hand tapped Peter on the shoulder and he jumped round, curbing his jump to something resembling normal human abilities at the last second. The owner of the hand, Ned, quickly pulled back, and lowered his voice.

“Are you having a Bad Day?”

Peter just nodded mutely.

“Here” Ned whispered, rummaging in his bag, “I’ve got some spare headphones. Figured it was always good to be prepared”.

Peter grimaced, but smiled in thanks, and quickly went to plug his headphones in. He had always been in awe of Ned’s complete understanding of all of his quirky behaviours, it was nice to have a friend who got it, and was completely supportive.

When Peter had decided to first tell Ned, he was terrified. Terrified that Ned, a certified weirdo, would find him just too strange, and no longer want to be his friend. It had happened before. Peter remembered the ‘friends’ before Midtown Tech, sneering when he didn’t get a joke, or laughing when he flung his hands over his ears at the sound of a siren. He had learnt to hate himself, to hate the word written all over his medical reports. Autism.

When he managed to move to Midtown, he thought things would be better, as a scientific school, he had hoped he would meet more like-minded people, but one wrong step had led to Eugene Thompson, Flash, deciding that he was the resident nutter. Although May always encouraged him to be open and proud about a part of himself, Autism became a dirty word. It took Peter an entire year to tell Ned, stood in the parking lot at the end of school, practically vibrating with anxiety. When he finally managed to stutter through an explanation, he stood poised for danger, as if ready to run from his expected mockery, but Ned had simply shrugged and said “huh”, before running straight into a monologue about a new Star Wars Lego Kit.

Since that day, Ned had asked Peter how best he could support him, and often carried around a spare pair of headphones or a fidget cube.

However, today, even the headphones weren’t enough. Feeling his heartbeat rising, Peter consciously tried to push it down, taking deep breaths. Walking to his first lesson of the day, he just hoped his teachers would see his discomfort and leave him alone. Unluckily for him, the chance of an easy time flew right out of the window when an unfamiliar figure walked through the door.

“Good morning Class. My name is Ms Atkinson.”

A middle-aged looking woman with long blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail walked into the room. Even with his headphones on, Peter could easily hear her.

“I’ll be covering for Mr Harrington today. But just because I am not your normal teacher doesn’t mean you will be able to get away with misbehaviour.”

Peter sighed, he knew the inevitable was coming, but basked in the relative comfort of his hood and headphones for a few more seconds.

Ms Atkinson’s rather shrill voice quickly cut through any last minute relaxation.

“Excuse me young man, do you think that is appropriate attire for a lesson?”

Ned was about to protest, but Peter threw him a look saying, “I can deal with it” and slowly removed his hood and headphones, squinting at the sudden brightness of the room. As Mrs Atkinson walked away, Ned surreptitiously handed Peter a stress ball, Peter responding with a brief smile of thanks.

However as the lesson progressed, Peter got more and more agitated, aggressively wiggling his leg under the table and chewing his pen to death. When the bell finally rang, he was sure he would feel a sense of relief, but instead a wave of dread washed over him. He had physics next. Physics with Flash.

Physics started out okay. Mr Richards was surprisingly supportive, and allowed Peter to pull his headphones on once any explanations of the work had been given. The work was simple, and Peter finally began to relax, until he could feel a rhythmic poking behind him. Flash had elected to take up the desk behind him, and decided that the best method of torturing an overstimulated teen was to continually prod him with a pen. Peter kept trying to shift away, but each time Flash poked him with more force. The jabbing in his back was just one sensation too much, and Peter soon felt his body melt down into a puddle of panic.

Everything was too loud, too much. His hoodie itched, and his headphones were no longer a comfortable weight, but a crushing vice against his skull. Distantly, Peter recognised that he was now hyperventilating and aggressively flapping his hands by his face, but all he could feel was overwhelming panic. Desperately trying to calm himself down, peter prayed someone had noticed his distress and would remove him from the room.

Luckily his prayers were answered in the form of MJ. MJ? Oh god, MJ didn’t know, MJ didn’t know about “The Autism”. Peter’s panic increased further, what would she think of him now? She’d never want to be friends with a loser like Peter, especially now she knew he was defective. So blinded by this newfound fear, it wasn’t until he was seated in the Nurses office that he realised he had left the classroom. Pulling his hood over his eyes and clasping his hands to his ears, he curled into a tight ball on the hard, plastic chair. Even through his hands he could here the whispered conversation between MJ and the Nurse, and the faint ringing of a dial tone, meaning the Nurse was ringing May.

Peter knew May wouldn’t pick up. She had headed off this morning to spend a girly weekend in the Berkshires with her friends. Peter couldn’t begrudge her it, even when he so wished to have her calming presence right now. Since Ben’s death she had hardly given herself a chance to relax, and Peter was glad that her finding out about Spider-Man had allowed her to come to trust Tony, and take some time to reconnect with her friends. Right now, though, Peter just wished May was in Queens, and could come and take him back to the apartment. Instead…

Instead, the nurse hung up and began to ring Peter’s second emergency contact. Even through his hyperventilation, and MJ’s murmured reassurances next to him, Peter heard her small chuckle at the name. Of course she didn’t believe him. No one did.

Even so, she rang the number, and quickly began to explain the situation.

“Hello, I believe you are listed as Peter Parker’s second emergency contact?”

“I’m afraid he is having a difficult day and appears to be having a panic attack…”

“Yes, I’ll see you in five minutes, can I just take a name down?... Yes, there is a name next to the number, I just assumed it was a joke.

…

Apologies Mr Stark, I will have someone meet you outside the school in ten minutes”

Peter was momentarily calmed by the prospect of getting out of school, when the realisation struck him. Not only had MJ seen him like this, but now Mr Stark would too. How the hell would Peter ever be able to convince Mr Stark he is Avengers material if it gets out that he’s autistic. Peter just curled tighter into himself, attempting to prepare himself for his impending doom.

Peter was startled from his trance of panic when a large and calloused hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“Come on kid, lets have some breathing. I don’t think May would be impressed if I killed you on the first day of her weekend away.”

Peter took a shuddery breath, and registered the smell of engine oil and coffee. Mr Stark always smelt of oil and coffee, even when he had just showered. It was as if the smells were physically ingrained into his being, probably from overexposure. Miss Potts often jokes that Mr Stark’s blood is probably 70% coffee at this point. The smell was reassuring, and Peter’s breathing finally began to slow

“I think its best if we get you out of here. Do you think you can stand up?” Peter made a small whimpering noise, but nodded slowly and shakily made his way to his feet. Peter felt Mr Stark’s hand on his shoulder, and let him guide them both out of the School and into the back of a running car by the gates.

“Step on it Happy. Oh and put the window tints on, will you?” Tony said, before reaching into the side pocket of the car and pulling out a pair of ear defenders, placing them in Peter’s lap.

“I’d put them on for you, but I don’t want to touch you whilst you’re overloading. Think you can put them on?”

Peter looked at Tony inquisitively, before putting on the ear defenders and shutting his eyes. Finally able to really relax, Peter began to ponder just why Tony had a pair of what appeared to be enhanced ear defenders readily available, but he didn’t think for long before exhaustion hit him, and peter was out like a light.

When Peter woke again, it was to a light tapping on his shoulder, and the sound of a voice muffled by headphones.

“Come on kiddo, I’ll leave you alone again once you’re inside” said tony, handing peter a pair of sunglasses before turning to head towards the tower entrance. Peter slid on the glasses and followed closely behind, passing through the noisy foyer to the private elevator at the back as quickly as possible.

Peter waited for the customary order of “Penthouse please Fri”, but was instead surprised by tony softly requesting the communal floor. The lift rose silently and soon they were stepping out into the open kitchen and lounge. Tony placed his hand on the small of peter’s back, gently pushing him towards a corridor to the left of the lounge, one peter rarely went down. They walked all the way to the end, before Tony opened a door to a cool, dark room.

The room was only lit by a line of warm, low lights on the back wall. Against that wall, peter could see a pile of blankets, as well as a bucket of various fidget toys and stress balls. Why did Tony have all this? Oh god, maybe May told him about “the Autism”. Peter’s breath started to pick up and he could feel his fist beating out a staccato against his thigh. How the hell could he ever look at Mr Stark again? Would Mr Stark ever let him be an avenger?

A voice cut through Peter’s panicked haze.

“you going to go inside? Not much point in a sensory room if you just stand in the doorway hyperventilating kiddo”

Tony was right, as soon as Peter stepped inside, he calmed a little. The room was quiet and still, and Peter felt just comfortable enough to snatch a blanket, that appeared to be weighted, from the pile and throw it around himself. Huddling under his newfound covers, he raised his head, expecting a sneering glance or disappointment from his pseudo father figure.

Instead he just found eyes full of caring, and a question on Tony’s lips.

“Want me to stay?”

Peter nodded, before looking back down into his lap, and slowly rocking back and forth, processing the day’s emotions.

It only took about 45 minutes before Peter was feeling ready to move again. And feeling very hungry. After the third monstrous stomach rumble, he heard Tony chuckle beside him.

“Honestly kid, I’m starting to think you’ve smuggled a dragon into my tower under that hoodie.”

Peter giggled quietly, before braving a response.

“Can we have pancakes?” he asked, voice gravelly from a day of no use.

“Sure”, Tony replied, groaning as he stood up from his place on the floor and began to stretch his legs, “although I haven’t made pancakes since the time Vision wanted to learn how to fry things. There’s still burn marks in the kitchen. So this could be… interesting”

Peter laughed again, before throwing a wry grin up at Tony.

“The good news is Mr Stark, when you get pancakes stuck on the ceiling again, I can get it down before Pepper comes home!”

“You watch that cheek kiddo, or I’ll let Dum-E make your meals from now on.”

Later, with pancakes eaten, Aunt May kept in the loop, and Star Wars playing quietly on the penthouse lounge’s television, Peter’s curiosity finally outweighed his fears.

“Why do you have a sensory room?”

Peter stared intently at Tony, watching him formulate a response, terrified of what he was about to hear. Terrified of Tony saying that May had told him everything, or that he’d read Peter’s medical reports. Terrified that this was the moment where Tony would reveal that he had never intended to let Peter join the team, that he was just too broken to be an Avenger. Peter was expecting many responses, dreading most of them, but he didn’t expect Tony to say it was for himself.

“Do you know what ADHD is Pete? I’m sure you know enough to get an idea.

Anyway, I have ADHD, only got diagnosed about ten years ago when Pep pointed out that it wasn’t normal to spend 36 hours hyper-focused on a project without eating or sleeping, and then be unable to concentrate through a 10-minute presentation that was vital to the running of my company. Add in a plethora of sensory difficulties and complete time blindness, and you get Tony Stark, ADHD”

There was a pause, before Tony continued.

“Anyway, you looked like I do when everything is a bit too much, I thought chances are, the same techniques would make life a little bit easier.”

Peter turned to Tony, taking a deep breath, and beginning his own reveal.

“I have Autism” he said, looking down at his hands, where he was fiddling with the corner of a cushion, “Usually I can handle everything just fine, but its been even harder since the bite. But I promise I can handle being Spider-Man! I promise I can still be a superhero! I’m not useless I swear!” beginning to stress again, peter pulled his knees up to his face and began to rock again, before forcing himself to stop. He hated when he stimmed in public, he felt so weak. Why had he told Mr Stark? He’d sealed his fate now, Mr Stark would just see him as a weirdo like everyone else did! Looking up at Tony expectantly, he expected to see a look of disgust or disappointment, instead Mr Stark just seemed to smile softly.

“Yeah, I thought you might, Clint’s autistic too, and you remind me of him sometimes. You actually picked up his favourite weighted blanket back in the sensory room earlier. He’s nicknamed it Sylvester. God knows why.”

“Wait, Clint is autistic? And he’s allowed to be an Avenger?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Of course he is? Did you think the Avengers would turn away a super-spy because he also happens to have Autism? Jesus Christ kid, who’s told you to be embarrassed of who you are?”

Peter shrugged. Aunt May had always told him to be proud of himself, that being different is not a bad thing, and his autism was just a part of him that he should love like every other part of him. Aunt May had always indulged his special interests, and had never stopped him from stimming, but that didn’t stop the people at school from putting him down. After being called a weirdo for most of his school career, it was difficult not to believe it himself. After all, if being autistic wasn’t a bad thing, why had he been endlessly mocked for it?

“Listen kid”, Tony began, once again cutting through the flood of thoughts in Peter’s mind. “Autism isn’t a bad thing. It’s just a thing. Sometimes it gives you benefits, I bet your abilities in chemistry come from years as your special interest, don’t they?”

Peter nodded.

“Sometimes, it can make life a little more difficult, but we find ways forwards. There is nothing wrong with neurodivergence. It’s not bad, it’s not a defect, it just is. It’s a part of who you are, Pete, and it’s a part of you that you should be proud of. Its certainly not something you need to hide. I’ve seen you stuff your stim toys to the bottom of your bag when you come to the tower, you have nothing to hide here.”

Tony wrapped his arm around the teenager’s shoulders reassuringly, and Peter leaned into the embrace, returning his attention to the film on screen. A little while later, as his eyes were beginning to droop, and the exhaustion of the day yet again crept up on him, he smiled a soft smile and whispered “thanks dad” as quietly as he could manage.

Peter thought he had uttered the words so quietly that Tony couldn’t have noticed, but the last thing he heard before drifting off to sleep, was an equally soft “you’re welcome, kid”, and a slight tightening of Tony’s hug around him.

He was safe, he was sound, and… he was asleep.

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tuulikkink · 4 years

Text

PORTAL - the art expo

Stress... Anxiety... Rush... These were the things I was feeling while trying to draw my piece for the exhibition. My brain felt like a empty plastic bag filled with slime, and it was impossible trying to catch a thread from one thought or another. Portal... What comes to my mind? A room of a teenager? A song that takes you away from where you are? Yes. Something like this. I also tried a little bit more direct approach and sketched a mushroom gatherer, who finds an ancient portal. I really liked the sketch, but the idea seemed... shallow. It needed more work, and I struggled to settle on an idea. I was also getting feedback from my teachers, that my ideas are superficial and there’s no feeling in them. I had to agree, which only annoyed me more. But I had learnt to take in constructive feedback over the summer, so now I was able to let it fuel me.

Now that we had found a venue, the curation team needed to do some shopping... There were many things that needed to be decided, one vital one being how we would hang the work.

On one Tuesday, I was the only person present from my team. I could hear my ears ringing as I realised that I would be the one speaking for the whole team...! I felt pressure building in my head... I can do this, I told myself. Just breath. Confidence. Thank god we have the most amazing person as a lecturer on this module, and she was very supportive. I told everyone, that the size would have to be changed from A4 to A3, as the exhibition space was so large. I took notes on things that still needed to be done, and sent updates to our curation chat. C promised to start looking for frames and other ways to hang the work, and R and H said they’d search for decorations for the space. We had gotten the permission to use tables and sofas from the Jacob’s market, so we didn’t need to worry about those. People from our class were also able to bring in cameras and speakers, so those could be considered done too. I talked about budget from our university, and my lecturer promised to look into it, and help with covering the printing costs. This was amazing news, and I felt elated. She also mentioned, that one person from each group should attend a vinyl cutting workshop held by our university, and naturally since I was the only curation team member there, I put my name down. We would be able to have a smaller exhibition, kind of as a tribute I guess, in the space outside of the classrooms. This would give attention to our actual exhibition happening elsewhere, and it would also bring the artists visibility within our university. Me and a few other people from my class took some measurements of the space, and designed what could go where, and what would need to be moved.

The following week was busy. The location team was buying food and drinks for the opening night, and the curation team was finding decorations and mounting equipment. Then came troubles... I tried contacting the man from the Jacob’s market, but he didn’t reply to any of my emails. I had sent a few, and it had been a few days so I was getting desperate, but thanks to my amazing teammates, we were able to reach then by phone and we settled everything. Then... We had the first big fight. This was regarding the food and drink side of the exhibition, as this girl I have told about before was unhappy with the food and drink arrangements the people who were assigned to it had done. In my opinion, they had done alright, but there had definitely been conversations, that I hadn’t heard of. I didn’t really had anything to say to this except that the bossy girl has to learn to let other people to take responsibility, and she has to learn to let other people decide. I found it unfair she took their job and they were left with nothing to do. Well, on the drawing side, I had made some progress. I wasn’t happy I had done this again: I have a tendency to not listen to others and I’m too stubborn when it comes to certain things. As I wrote in the last post, I was struggling to find a good idea. Well, now I had found it, and it was completely different than what I was going for before, but because I was running out of time I just went with it without even telling about the idea to my lecturers. I know this is a very stupid way to work, but I felt too much stress from being so behind with the drawing process, that it felt like the fastest way forward. I had also learnt to trust myself slightly more during the summer, so I convinced myself, that this was the right way to go.

She is a girl, and when she puts on the headphones, the music takes her to another world. She’s here, but isn’t. This is my portal.

Beside this, I had prepared some prints to be sold at the exhibition opening night. This was a way to make some extra cash, and I love stalls; meeting people, seeing them buy my art, seeing how it connects us in some unexplained way when it makes them feel something... I didn’t want to turn down the opportunity.

It was also time to send the exhibition pieces to print in a few days, and a huge load was lifted from my shoulders, when my amazing lecturers told us that they would take care of that for us. I was so happy, as I still had quite a bit to do with the exhibition piece itself.

The next few days passed in a blur: sending my finished piece for printing, coming up with a name for it, designing placards to go by the artwork for the exhibition, cleaning the exhibition space,... There was so much. I had gotten ill a few days before this all, so I honestly pushed through these events with the power of paracetamol. I don’t have many feelings about it all, because I worked like a robot, from task to another, as quickly as I could with as little rest as possible. There was also problems with promoting, or actually, the lack of it. There wasn’t much publicity and the social media handles were quiet. It was only a few days before the opening night, so we needed more action. Everyone in the class posted the event on Facebook; this way we were hoping to gain more publicity to it. The problem with me is that all of my family and friends live in other countries, so me sharing the event wasn’t much help... But at work, I tried to talk about it with as many people as possible; it was a free event in the end, and if they didn’t have anything to do, they could come see it! It was now two nights to the opening night, and the curation team started prepping the space. This included cleaning the venue, arranging sofas, chairs and tables, decorating the space and testing the mounting technique. I had been shown magnets on ebay by one of my lecturers, and he suggested we could use the magnets and small nails to hang the work. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but when the magnets arrives, they were way too weak to hang the A3 artwork. So, a few of us quickly ran to the nearest artstore and brought plenty of masking tape, which is very strong, but leaves no marks on the walls after peeling it off. This, we tested too. Just in case, because the owner had told us not to damage the walls.

In just two days, everything was ready for the exhibition to open the doors. My fever was running high, and I felt weak and sick, but the pride from having out together something this amazing overrode the nasty feelings. The prints had arrived the previous day, and together with the whole curation team we had hanged them on the walls; colour coded. It was all ready for people to see. It was ours for the weekend; that’s what the old man had told me when I had paid for renting the venue for three days. His friendly smile still made me feel, like this was our space. For three days.

And so came the opening night... And when you looked through my portal with Artvive app, the silence would turn into music and transport you into another universe...

It was over. So much work had gone into just three days of exhibiting art, but it had all been worth it. The experience taught me, how important it is to establish clear roles and a schedule for everyone, and most important thing of all is to be patient, talk to one another and learn to listen. This also showed me, that I still need lots of practise on my time management skills... Working for eight hours straight to finish animating my piece made me shed tears, and the fever didn’t help anything. I think I might have even gotten ill from all the stress I was feeling trying to get everything done and hold it all together. I also had gotten better in communicating what need to be done, if one compares me to the person I was in the summer. The work placements had made me grow thicker skin, and I could better put a border between me as a person and myself, and me as an illustrator and as a worker. All in all, I loved being a part of the Portal exhibition class, and I felt so proud of us all as a class, but also the curation team; we had all done amazing job, and even though I was left on my own a few times, I could still count on my team to have my back. They had done most of the shopping, and I had gathered information and made lists of the things that needed to be taken care of, so it all worked out together. I couldn’t have asked for better team members.

This is the end. That was Portal. Thank you for taking your time to read, and if you will, message me if there’s something you were left puzzled about, or jus tto leave any comments on my writing. Lots of love, Likki

#university #art exhibition #art #artist #illustration

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panda-noosh · 5 years

Text

everything was right. everything was exactly how it should have always been. the world was glowing for the first time in a very long time.

you were elated, leaning back against the bed frame with a lazy smile on your face and a half-empty glass of wine in your hand; across from you, Hunk and Pidge sat, sharing a pair of headphones between them as Hunk showed Pidge a video he had seen on Twitter the previous morning. you watched them, taking single swigs of your wine as you recalled the mission that you had come back from only a few hours before.

you were sure you were going to die.

you had been fully prepared to die when you agreed to go. the details were horrific, with Shiro reminding you every few seconds that you didn't have to go, that he could get someone else, that he could go on his own if it really came down to it. he made it clear that this mission was going to be dangerous, that the odds of getting out alive were going to be extremely slim.

you had agreed anyway, even as Lance wailed and argued and protested in the background, even as he grabbed at your arm and tried to drag you back to your shared bedroom. he had looked at you – for the first time in years – with fresh tears in his eyes, and the two of you had cried in each others arms but realised shortly after that there was really no other way about things.

you would go, and Lance would go on his own mission, and at the end of the day, you would see what happened. you would have to accept the outcome, whether you wanted to or not, because that was just how Team Voltron worked.

and yet here you were, only a few claw marks across your collarbone to show for the mission you had just completed. that was where the elation came from – the fact that you would be seeing Lance as soon as he came home, the fact that you had survived, that the future you and him had planned with one another was not going to waste.

it was unlike any other feeling you had ever felt before, and you found yourself basking in it as Hunk and Pidge giggled amongst themselves on the seat across from you.

it was around 8:00pm whenever your elation started to ebb away into something closer to fear.

Lance's mission had been described as 'mild' by Shiro. it was a simple supply raid on a Galra ship – in and out with no issues. Lance had done them plenty of times before, always came back exhausted, but he always came back.

but it was getting awfully late, and he had been gone an awfully long time.

the wine was slowly escaping your system as you looked round at the clock and realised just how long Lance had been away. nearly a full four hours – surely he should have been back by now? surely it hadn't taken him this long?

you tried to calm yourself down before your anxiety got the better of you. Hunk and Pidge were still in excellent moods, and you did not want to be the one to staunch that, but you could hardly help yourself when you stood up and waded over to the window, searching the constellations for any sign of Lance's ship.

there was none. the skies were empty.

you frowned, placing your wine on the table before turning to look at Hunk, who had noticed your sudden movements and was looking at you with a raised brow.

“have any of you heard from Lance recently?” you asked.

“no. he went on that supply run, remember?” said Pidge, not even looking up from Hunk's phone.

you swallowed thickly; they weren't worried, so you shouldn't be either. he would be fine. he was Lance. sometimes he got so caught up in a mission that he just forgot to send updates through on the intercom; it was a common occurrence, and nothing you should be worrying about.

the rest of the night was spent on the sofa with your friends. it was pleasant, bar the insistent voice in the back of your head that was adamant in convincing you that Lance was, indeed, not safe at all. you kept your intercom in your ear, turned up to full volume at all times, just in case he decided to make contact – but nothing came through.

Hunk and Pidge eventually decided to head off to bed, a fact that did not surprise you. you were also exhausted from the mission, but there was no way you were going to drift off to sleep without the guarantee that Lance was okay and home safe.

and so, you bid them good night and curled up on the sofa, keeping a firm eye on the door.

it was midnight before he finally showed up.

almost as soon as he walked in the door, you knew something was wrong. he hid it well, always did when he was injured, but you had known him long enough to be able to tell when he was faking something like this. his skin was pale, his brown hair a ruffled mess, his shirt buttoned wrong so it slanted against his torso.

nonetheless, he smiled at you when he walked in.

you were on your feet in seconds, throwing yourself into his arms and wrapping your own around his neck, pulling him in for a desperate hug. he grunted, stumbled into your grip but hugged you back regardless, laughing carelessly against the flesh of your neck. the feel of his breath on you startled you back to reality, a much-needed reminder that he was okay, that he was still breathing.

“where have you been?” you demanded, trying desperately to stop yourself from full-on sobbing in his arms. “it's been eight hours, Lance! eight hours!”

“i know, I know,” he replied, running his hands up and down your spine in any attempt to sooth you. “i'm fine, Y/N, I promise. I just got a little carried away. you know how I get.”

you pulled away, raising both brows at him. “did you get hurt?”

“of course not.” but even the way he said that made your stomach clench in suspicion.

he must have noticed your look of apprehension, as he quickly pulled away from you and headed towards the kitchen, trying to keep that smile on his face that he truly believed made everything alright. he thought that, if he kept smiling, the facade would be believable. he would be let off the hook purely because he looked cheerful.

but that wasn't how it worked. not whenever you loved someone. you had tried the exact same tactic multiple times over with him, and never before had it worked. it most definitely wasn't going to work on you.

you followed close behind him, ringing your hands in front of you. he wasn't limping, was barely showing any sign of damage – and yet he wasn't right. he wasn't healthy. there was something in the colour of his skin, something in the way his words slid off his tongue when he was trying so desperately to convince you that he was okay that told you something bad had happened.

“so, how did your mission go?” he asked, heading towards the fridge. “Shiro told me through the intercom that you all made it back in one piece. I was worried sick the entire time, you know.”

you leaned against the counter, watching him. “it was alright. a few injuries, but everybody got back safely.”

“injuries?” he raised a brow, turned to look at you. “are you alright?”

slowly, you moved the collar of your shirt to reveal the scratch marks indented in the flesh. his eyes glowed with a mixture of anger and shock as he slammed the carton of milk down on the counter and rushed towards you.

that was the first give away that he wasn't well.

he winced at his own sudden movement, had to lean against the counter for a moment before he shoved himself off and strolled towards you as if nothing had happened. you raised a brow, heart hammering in your chest – that was definitely a look of pain. there was no way you had imagined him faltering like that.

“let me see it,” he said, reaching for you, but you stepped out of the way before he could so much as touch you. he grunted, slumping forward, even more colour draining from his face.

“please, Y/N, let me see it,” he repeated weakly.

“Lance,” you drawled, stepping towards him. “Lance, tell me what's wrong.”

“i'm fine,” he insisted. “look, them scratches look like they need bandages-”

“you're not fine!” you hissed, grabbing his shoulder and jerking him upright. almost immediately, his eyes lit up with pain and he cried out, slapping your hand away and stumbling back against the fridge. the shelves inside crashed to the floor, but neither of you bothered to care as Lance crumbled onto the tiles with a pained groan.

you scrambled to his side, whispering his name over and over again because that was the only thing you could think to say – it was the only thing that seemed appropriate at a time like this.

“i'm fine,” he said. “i'm fine, i'm fine, i'm fine, stop crying, please-”

“let me see.”

you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it open. the buttons burst, but you didn't care, couldn't care when you laid eyes upon the burn marks that scattered the entire left side of his torso.

your heart fell. your body grew numb. the kitchen became silent, no sound bar the sound of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears like a drum in the background of a song; it was in the background, but you couldn't ignore it. in more ways than one, it made the beat what it was.

you inhaled shakily. the skin had folded upon itself, tiny dots of blood captured within the creases. it had melted. bits of his skin were sticking to his shirt, and with you ripping the fabric away, some had ripped, revealing the muscle beneath.

“Lance,” you choked out, because again, his name was the only thing you could think to say.

“i'm fine,” he said. “it doesn't – it doesn't even hurt. i'm fine.”

“how did this happen?”

Lance shut his eyes, leaned his head against the fridge in a way that told you he had given up trying to convince you that he was anywhere below the point of suffering. “i went looking for you.”

the wind was knocked out of you instantly. you reeled back, folding your hands into your chest, eyes widening.

“what?”

“that stupid mission you went on!” he exclaimed, before groaning in pain. “i just - I couldn't just sit there, could I? Shiro all but told me that I should say my goodbyes. he was trying to get me to just prepare for your death. how could you expect me to do that?”

you blinked. “you came after me?”

“of course I did.” he shook his head, reached forward and grabbed your hand. his eyes scrunched shut as yet another wave of pain crashed over his body, his fingers tightening over your own.

when he next spoke, it was through gritted teeth, his eyes still forced shut. “i wasn't just going to let you – let you go out there and die. I came after you. I - I wanted to drag you out, but by the time I got there, the fire had already started and I had no way through it.”

“the – the fire.”

“there was a fire,” he explained. “i thought you were in it, so I flew right towards it. it wasn't – you weren't there, but the damage had already been done by the time I got out.”

tears had welled up in your eyes by now. you made no move to hide them, but instead shifted closer to Lance, squeezing his hand impossibly tighter.

“you stupid, stupid idiot.”

he smiled then. despite the clear pain he was in, the smile was genuine. you could see that much.

“yep. I said that myself multiple times on the way home.”

“we have to find you a medic, Lance. you can't just-”

he shook his head, dragging your hand tighter to his chest. “i don't want a medic right now. there's nothing they can do except put a bit of cream on it, and that can wait a little while. I just want to sit with you for now.” he creaked open one eye and glanced over at you. “i thought you had died today.”

you caught your breath before responding. “no. no, i'm not dead. we're both – we're both still here.”

“not all in one piece, but I won't dwell on the negatives.”

“Lance,” you whispered. “why would you go after me? why would you risk your own life for-”

“don't even finish that question, because you already know the answer.”

you closed your eyes, slumping back against the drawers as a sob broke free from your chest; the sight of Lance in pain had never been an easy one to look at. he was always so happy, always so chipper, always so positive. seeing him in any other state was utterly heartbreaking.

“it's because I love you. you know that,” he said softly. “hey, look at me. don't cry.”

you opened your eyes, but the tears continued to pour. Lance smiled shakily, lower lip trembling with his own built up emotions, but he hid them much better than you did. he leaned forward as best as he could, swiped his thumb beneath your eye before tugging you closer to his side – his good side. you made sure to shuffle away from the burns.

“i would do it again, you know,” he whispered.

“please don't.”

“i won't have to if you just promised to take care of your own life more often.” and you knew the promise was loose, that there was no way you could ever just completely focus on yourself – you worked on Team Voltron. you put your life at risk every single day, but for the moment, you nodded against Lance's shoulders, uttered the words “i'll try,” purely because it was the only way – in that moment – that you knew you could keep Lance safe. if he didn't have to worry about you, it would be one less opportunity for him to get himself hurt, or killed.

Lance hummed against your hair, tugging you into his side. “neither of us are gonna be able to keep our promises, are we?”

you inhaled shakily. “we can try our damned hardest.”

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let-me-love-you-loki · 5 years

Text

Hounds of Justice--Ch. 75

Chapter 75

I hated flying these days. Not that it wasn’t nice to get on board early and have priority access to stuff. But I hated the way that people stared at me, the way that their eyes saddened with sympathy. I didn’t need it.

I insisted that we could have driven from Iowa to Michigan—it wasn’t like we weren’t used to long road trips in a cramped car. But Seth wouldn’t hear of it. With everything that was riding on this surgery, he didn’t want to take any chances on the road.

The rush of electricity that I always felt when he was near was blurred with an undercurrent of worry. It hung like a haze around him, present in the way that he bounced his leg nearly the entire flight. He held my hand from the time we took off to the time we landed.

~~~~~~

Dr. Thurman had sent most of my records ahead of us, but the surgeon wanted to do a consultation before he finalized the procedure. It was already on the schedule, but nothing was set in stone until he put his stamp of approval on it.

Dr. Carlson was a serious kind of man with a molasses complexion and glittering black eyes. He smiled as he walked through my history, asked me about the accident and the physical therapy. He took his time going over my test results, doing a physical exam, testing my reflexes and sensation.

After what felt like hours, he was satisfied.

I would go under on Tuesday morning, just as planned.

~~~~~~~~

Anxiety ripped at my bones, turned my stomach inside out. No matter how much I tried to talk myself into relaxation, everything seemed to be moving at light speed around me. It was nearly impossible to breathe. I swear my fingers never stopped twitching.

Nurses led us back to the pre-surgery waiting room. They asked me a thousand questions about whether I’d eaten since midnight, if I’d taken any medication that morning, if I thought I might be pregnant. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the last one.

After a while, they took me back to prepare me for surgery. They helped me out of my chair and into a bed. Out of my street clothes and into a hospital gown. Swept my wild hair up beneath a cap. Stuck an IV in the back of my right hand.

“We’re going to be right here when you wake up,” Seth said soothingly, sitting in a chair by the bed and holding my free hand. “Dean and Ro are on the way. Their plane was delayed a little.”

“I know they won’t listen, but they didn’t have to come.”

He smiled softly, gave my fingers a squeeze. “You belong to us, Llane. You’re a Hound, and we don’t leave our own behind.”

Before I could say anything, the surgeon stepped around the curtain that separated me from the other patients. He smiled reassuringly. “It’s time to get you going, Ms. Black.” He gave me a quick once over, surely going through a checklist in his head. “You’ll need to leave your jewelry with your husband.”

I glanced down, remembered the engagement ring on my finger. Seth carefully slipped it from my hand and tucked it in the pocket of his jeans. He leaned over and kissed my knuckles before they ushered him away.

The full reality of what was about to occur didn’t settle in until he was gone. It was happening. There was a possibility that when I woke up from this, I could walk again. I might never get back into the ring to compete, but I could at least move without my body completely betraying me.

My last thought before I fell under the anesthesia was of Seth and how much I was doing this, not just for me, but for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Voices. Far away like static. Familiar but strange.

“I hate seeing her like this,” said one voice. It had a cadence to it that settled against my soul, embraced me like a long-forgotten piece of home. “Too much like that night.”

“The surgeon said things went well,” replied another. This one was deep, rumbling. Like the crash of surf against the sand.

“It’s been an hour,” came the first again. “Shouldn’t se be waking up by now?”

“Any time,” the second returned. “You know how she is. Always has to do things her own way.”

The two voices intermingled with faint laughter. Another wrapped in with them, a sound that called to something deep within me. It made heat bloom against the base of my spine. Shoot flames along my ribs. I remembered it from somewhere, that sensation of being engulfed in fire and heat and desire and joy. My heart thumped in my chest, felt like it was ready to burst.

Flashes of light. Color. Shape and shadow. I blinked rapidly, trying to wrest myself from the deep waters of anesthesia. Voices got louder. Clearer.

“There’s our girl,” cooed the second voice somewhere off to my right. I caught the scent of ocean spray, felt a wave of warmth spread over me. My head turned toward the sound, tried to focus.

“It’s about time, dollface,” chuckled the first voice. I sensed it at the end of the bed. The warmth turned chaotic with a rush of energy.

Calloused fingers brushed softly along my jaw. I nuzzled toward the touch without conscious thought. “Take your time, Llane. We’re not going anywhere.”

I breathed deeply, felt it burn in my chest. Blinked slowly, each bat of my lashes a little longer than the last.

At last, the world came into view. Everything was blurred around the edges. My whole body was warm, tingling with the aftereffects of the drugs. I glanced around before I tried to turn my head. When I was sure that I wasn’t in a neck brace, I slowly rotated toward the person standing on my left. The one who touched me so gently.

Seth had his beanie pulled down over his ears. Headphones hung around his neck, tucked just under the collar of his zippered jacket. I could just make out the Bears logo on his tee. His eyes were bright, brows drawn just slightly. There was a faint smile curving his lips.

“Hey,” he said softly. His thumb brushed my cheekbone. Electricity sparked across my skin.

I swallowed. Took my time forming the sounds and syllables.

“Colby.” My voice was hoarse, thick with drug-induced sleep. I tried to smile, but wasn’t quite sure that I’d managed it.

He gave a gentle rumbling laugh. “Llane,” he retorted with a wide grin. His free hand turned the plastic ID bracelet around my wrist. “Maybe I should start calling you Sophie.”

I made a face, one that I’d seen him do a thousand times. “How ‘bout no?”

At the end of the bed, an energetic chuckle filled the room. I turned my attention to who was there, glad to see the faint reddish-brown hair and fun blue eyes of Dean. He grinned at me, his dimples popping in his cheeks.

“Huh, someone still has some secrets, don’t they?” He winked, bracing his hands on the end of the bed and leaning forward. “How you feelin’, dollface?”

I glanced toward Seth, steeled myself for the numbness that had been my life for the last six months. My sluggish brain took its time taking stock of my body. I could feel the sheets and blankets over my torso, my hips, one leg. Watching carefully, I wriggled the toes on my good leg. Tried again on the other leg.

Nothing.

Seth squeezed my hand. “Give it time.”

Tag List

@bethany99stuff-blog @lakamaa12 @sammyfireheartashryver @cburdine @easyobsession @xbutterflius-effectusx @0paint-the-stars0 @echrai @themumbler @bigdunneenergy @queenofthearchitect @vebner37@reigns-rollins-ambrose @mother-forker

#hounds of justice #seth rollins #seth rollins fanfiction #dean ambrose #roman reigns #llane black #seth x llane #wwe #wwe fanfiction #ofc #oc #real person fanfiction #multi-chapter

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astralbite · 5 years

Text

To Tread Upon Rings

The wind was bracing cold, even through the coat I wore. The night felt heavy and humid, but it felt thicker than water, and more like ink. My breath escaped in a wisp as I hugged the jacket closer. I checked my phone with a glance. 11:23 pm. Damn, where did the time go today?

As I boarded the bus heading towards my area, I could have sworn I had watched this scenario take place before. Long before. The way the stale smell of peanut butter and cigarette smoke hit me felt dream-like. I was immediately set on edge by this fact, and the everlasting bad effects Deja Vu has had on my life and health, but swiped my card, and took a seat with a deep breath. I couldn’t wait to get home to my cat, and the prospect of food made me hungrier than I had previously felt. Four stops.

I sat in silence, observing the other patrons on the bus, and listening to the conversation in the back in abject curiosity and anxiety. Was it about me? The two men kept referring to a ‘her’ and a ‘she’ from what I heard. Panic began to bite at my mind. My mind tried to warn me not to get on the bus by giving me the premonition, no? They got off as the bus came to a stop. I released a small sigh of relief. Three stops.

Something just felt wrong.

I shifted in my seat, which caught the blank stare of an older woman. I couldn’t tell if she was just dead tired and spacing out, or if she was truly looking at me. Either way, her gaze made me itchy, and not in the funny ‘hehe’ hair itch kind of way. It made my skin crawl. She turned back away to look out of the window at the moving city. The problem with the premonitions I received in my life is that they were always of a scenario that happened before the bad things started, and it never really helped to prepare me for what would be next. I’ve had calls of deaths in the family, to my cat being missing, to ‘Suprise! We’re moving’, and everything in between. Every time these episodes happen, I stay home with the people and things I care for. The woman shambled off of the bus after staring at me once again. Two stops.

Bile began to rise in my throat as I observed how many people were still on the bus. I looked back down at my phone. 12:18 am.

I don’t want to ever meet the beings that gave me these premonitions. Honestly, I would simply rather not know. They are cruel beings. I let my mind wander to the possibilities of the unknown and unseen forces that gave people like me an insane-sounding reason to not leave the house. My first thought was always faeries, every time I pondered the ideals, anyway. In mythology, they were generally always devious and tricksters by nature, much like genies.

The bus came to another stop, and all the others got off the bus. It was a rather full parking lot anyway. That left me, and the bus driver, an older gentleman. Just one more stop. Then I will be free to quickly book it back home.

The ride was silent, save for the noise of the bus itself. I hate the noises they make. They’re so loud, but I don’t like the city at night enough to travel in the dark with my headphones in.

“You’d best be getting off soon.” The older man was gruff, and there was little point in trying to question him, or even try to be friendly.

“I intend to be.” My voice felt like sandpaper and I immediately regretted the harshness of my words. What if he doesn’t let me leave? What if he kicks me off here, farther away from my home? What if the vision was trying to warn me of him? Once more, my anxiety ran away with my thoughts like a kid with a kite they can’t seem to get airborne.

I got off the bus at 12:32 am. I was only a ten-minute walk away from my home. The air was barely warmer here, but still cold enough to make my breath visible. It looked like parts of my spirit being taken from me as my frigid breath curled and wisped away. Good riddance, I figured. The stop was at a convenience store, kind of, but not one of the 24-hour ones. There wasn’t a soul in sight, I don’t know if I liked that, either. The air smelled acrid and dry like gasoline and the irrigation water having been dried on the sidewalk hours ago.

I decided to cut across the bright parking lot, thanking and cursing whoever decided to make the gas pumps a 24-hour service, but not the store. I got across with no problems and stepped into a patch of lawn and sank beneath my foot, and nearly slipped down the barely noticeable incline. Mud. I made a quick step to the side to avoid this patch and stepped into one of the small faerie circles that we had locally.

My mind returned to fancy the idea of faeries, though I am very aware that the real reason we receive these little fungi circles is because of the high nitrogen in the soil. I stepped down onto the sidewalk, and scraped the mud from my shoes, before returning to my goal of just getting home. I heard something move in the bushes, but we have cats around. My heart began to quicken, and before I knew it, I was sprinting home, and opening the door, like a child running up the stairs from the darkness.

I keep hearing things outside. Things that shouldn’t exist. I know it’s all a clever trick, but I feel myself gravitating from my room, to the kitchen, into the living room. I have felt the fae calling for hours now, and for hours I have not yet left the house.

7:04 am.

I am only delaying the inevitable.

🍂 Happy Halloween, a good spooky month, and Pride 2: Electric Spookaloo! 🍂

I have opened up a Ko-Fi account. If you would like to help me out, and continue seeing my writing, consider checking it out at:

https://ko-fi.com/defiant_mortal

#halloween #spooky #writing #horror #faeries #fae #the woes of public transit #ko-fi #kofi #narration #pride:2 #electric spookaloo #October #long post

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fearfilledvirgil · 6 years

Text

Ivity and Anx: part eleven

Summary: Virgil’s mind spirals farther and farther down as he mindlessly walks the path to Logan’s house. When he arrives, Logan’s mind begins to reel into his own thinking process.

Warnings: Physical and emotional abuse discussed, manipulation discussed, Deceit (Marxious) mentioned, few swears

Word Count: 2581

Pairings: Slowburn Prinxiety

A/N: I think the warnings don’t get through just how much they think about abuse in this chapter. It’s bad. I got a few sinking feelings in my stomach when I read it over, and I wrote it. Besides that, yay! Part eleven is finally here! I’m so incredibly sorry for the long wait. Thank you for sticking with me. (Taglist under the cut)

masterlist

Taglist: @rileyfirstname @verymuchanidiot @definentlynotjustanotherlemon @silversmith-91 @kanejandkruge @sander-fander-sides @hexdream18243 @crows-with-hats @turksmigurks17 @monikastec @definenormalifyoucan @i-am-absolute-fandom-trash @applecannibal @cats-with-blogs @bubblycricket @gay-girls-do-it-better @bunnyartie @quietlypondering @elusivefalsehoods @hghrules @royallyanxious @quietwords-loudthoughts @squishynonbinarytwink @sortablue @giant-tiny-spn @illogical-anxieties @lovecrazyjennybear

~•~

shhimcreatingrightnow: I’ve given you your space for months now,, I understand what happened before but I promise I’m not like him. Please, let me tell my side of things, Virgil

I miss you

Virgil’s eye-line stuck mostly to the ground a few feet in front of him on his walk. He sometimes let his gaze wander to the street when a car approached, but the inexplicable urge that came about to leap out before the moving vehicle stopped him from doing so. He kept on as much allert as he could with two of his scenes mostly blocked out. His vision was impaired with his hoodie and low eyeline, and his hearing was limited with the quiet music leaking from his headphones. Not that he cared much. Well, he did care, a lot. Virgil continually looked back behind him, finding excuses to look into the street for oncoming assailants. It was all counter productive, his paranoia, but none of Logan’s impeccable logic could convince him that there wasn’t someone breathing down his neck.

Virgil had an understandable love-hate relationship with walks. He loved the calmness of it, the being able to just go where his feet took him. He liked that he could just breath in the moisture filled air in this time of year, walking alone with no one to make him talk. The serenity of the walks as the trees swayed gently in the wind was enough to convince him to keep going on them. The opposite side of the coin, though, was that there was a lot of things that could go wrong while he walked alone. His music that he loved and thought was an essential part of the walk-taking experience limited the amount of things he could hear. If he couldn’t hear someone approaching, then he couldn't prepare himself. Virgil’s tendency to look at the ground and hunch his shoulders also provided difficulty; if he couldn't see danger coming, then he had no way to protect himself.

Virgil always had to be able to protect himself. If he wasn’t careful, he knew full well what would happen. He would get hurt. If he didn't do something just the right way, or he spaced out into nothingness and missed something important, he would get hurt. There wasn't any way of avoiding it either. Whether it was yelling, passive aggressiveness, or a physical punishment, a part of Virgil would be broken. The boy with the hard outer shell understood too completely that pain didn't have to be physical to make someone fall apart.

His father taught him the darkness of physical punishment. The man took it upon himself to beat the submissiveness and learning into him. It hadn’t always been that way, but the discipline the man used had become so regular that Virgil could hardly remember a time when things were better. Way back when his mother was still alive, the harshest punishment his father inflicted was loud, loud, with an object taken away. Now discipline was loud, louder, deafening, with an object hitting his skin. He told him that his son deserved to be punished, to be put in his place for all the mean wrongdoing that he's done. The harsh dark of his father’s reality pushed Virgil farther into too sweet words that wreaked of manipulation.

Marxious graciously showed him the mental scars that emotional manipulation could cause. The older boy--who Virgil acknowledged was now in college with a shiver down his spine--made it his personal, sick mission to create as much dependency in Virgil as possible. He fought with words, sickly sweet promises and never ending lies. When Virgil latched onto Deceit, and when Marxious hooked Virgil onto his line, the walls that covered the younger’s heart grew tenfold. Deceit convinced him to be the worst possible version of Virgil he could be, saying that in doing so he was strong. Marxious was creating a villain for his own control, but the small speck of light that was Logan managed to wiggle its way back into his life. With that spark Logan started a flame, and the flame burned through most of the deception.

As his mind went along on its usual tangents whenever it was left to wander, Virgil managed to walk just over halfway into the neighborhood. His feet had walked this path so many times before that he neglected to realize just how far he walked until another car drifted past him. The sound of the engine and the rush of wind that blew harshly onto him as it passed pulled Virgil out of his mind and back to the present. Virgil’s feet stopped cold, allowing their owner to stop to take a moment to collect himself. He couldn't allow his mind to drift there so deeply again. Not only was it unproductive to dwell on the past, but having it sink deeper into his mind would reverse so much progress made with Creativity.

Ivity. Virgil’s current problem. Some would think that his father was his ongoing problem, something that must have had much more weight in Virgil’s mind than someone catfishing him, but Virgil’s mind worked differently. It worked wrongly. The hunched, broken mess, standoffish boy began to think of his father’s ways of something daily: ordinary. The kind of crushed that he felt when Roman of all people was made out to be Ivity took more precedence over the ordinary. Unlike with Marxious, Roman had always seemed genuine. There wasn't one moment when in a conversation with Creativity did Virgil have any second guesses of his nature. Roman was constant in what he had to say, and how he presented it. Deceit jumped too far over the board, and more than once broke his masquerade of kindness to reprimand Virgil for something. There was two sides to Deceit, but Creativity only had one.

Virgil shook his head violently and resumed his steps. He couldn't think this deep about Roman right now, not before telling Logan what happened. Virgil needed to keep a clear head. He needed a mindspace where his father didn't exist, and neither did the two who betrayed his trust online. He couldn't be thinking about the men who broke him, because if he did, he would break down. The one thing besides ever telling Logan the severity of most of his issues that Virgil swore never to do again was breakdown in front of Logan. The logical thinker would realize too quickly just how fucked up his friend was, and then he’d decide that Virgil wasn't worth the trouble.

In the midst of his chaotic, overflowing thinking, Virgil reached the road down to Logan’s house. He closed his eyelids, letting the heaviness weigh down onto them for a moment. He pushed everything away and down just for a little while. He became light, airing, floating away from the pavement into a state of something much calmer. The calm barely lasted, though, as the one emotion he couldn’t push away came crashing back when he saw Logan’s house in the distance. To hide the ever growing fear, Virgil placed on his facade of the short tempered and pushy kid that the Brian family knew him to be.

Luckily for Virgil, the sun was still high in the sky despite the clouds obscuring its light. Usually his long walk down into the more prestigious neighborhood occurred at nightfall, so he usually used the back door. Today, though, and on other occasions such as this, Virgil felt free enough to ring the doorbell and possibly be greeted by a family member other than Logan. So Virgil’s feet found themselves atop the old welcome mat, his hands still in his pockets. After the last few moments of constructing his face into that of a grim scoul, Virgil pulled his hand out of his hoodie and pressed the doorbell.

It took a few moments, but the door soon swinged open to reveal a ten year old girl who held a striking resemblance to Logan with her dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. Those eyes, however, were currently glaring daggers at Virgil. Her face was scrunched up with something like a mini mom glare, and it was kind of adorable. It would be actually adorable if the reason behind the glare wasn't as hard pressing as it was.

“What do you want.” Olivia looked Virgil up and down with a touch of disgust. Virgil always said that he didn’t mind the way that Logan’s family treated him. Of course, they all were just cautious. Virgil wasn't exactly the kind of person to look inviting or anything less than intimidating.

“Well I was looking for the Brian’s house, but clearly I got the wrong address.” Virgil seethed through slightly parted lips, regretting the words immediately. Serves her right, he tried to convince himself, for treating him that way.

Olivia made another snarl and let out a scoff, going to roll her eyes before Logan appeared behind her. The older brother caught sight of his friend standing in the doorway, hunching over with that all-too-familiar gimance on his face. Logan halted in his footsteps, walking backwards to get a full look of the situation unfolding at his doorway. Virgil’s eyes caught his, which made him immediately begin towards the two at the door.

“‘Lia, what’s happening here?” Logan asked as he placed a hand on his younger sister’s shoulder. He gave a glance of apology to his friend in the doorway, but that only made the younger squint his eyes and hunch over more. There seemed to be a little sneer on his face. Logan pursed his lips, wonder still overflowing his mind. He knew that Virgil disliked putting out anything other than this hardened face in front of strangers and peers, but the logical one still didn't understand why he would feel the need to keep it up here. Virgil was practically family with how often he came over, and with the fact that Logan cared for him deeply. He just wanted his family to see his friend in the same light that he does.

“The gothic boy is back.” Olivia retaliated with a small half-smile that held the smallest bit of real emotion. Her kind eyes and sweet facial features were so at home on her face when she looked at her brother. It was easy to see that the girl cared for her sibling, and the way that her face naturally melted into the less distasteful expression signified just how much she didn’t like Virgil. Like he thought before, Virgil didn’t mind how the Brian family thought of him. He couldn’t possibly; he had too many other things to worry about. Besides, keeping up the darker persona around Logan’s family just helped his societal image come together as someone who you’d rather not mess with, unless you want a pretty bruise as well.

“Do you need help with physics again?” Logan asked, his gaze becoming ever so slightly serious. Virgil’s head inclined with the slightest of movements with that word. That was the two’s code of sorts that they would use if Virgil need to be patched up, but more into that later.

“No, I just want to talk...about something.” Virgil shoved both of his hands deeper into his pockets and made his shoulders rise and enclose his neck to make an awkwardly looking hunch of sorts. The shrug that wasn’t exactly a shrug passed back down into Virgil’s normal slouched standing position. Logan tilted his head up and raised a lone eyebrow in confusion, but gently lead his sister away from the door.

“Alright, Olivia,” Logan started quicker then he usually spoke. “Thank you for answering the door.”

“But-” Olivia tried to say, only to be turned around and directed back toward where she was doing homework at the table.

“Just get finished on that homework, okay?” Logan finished talking to his younger sister with small smile before hurriedly turning toward his friend still waiting in the doorway. It was irregular that Virgil would show up at Logan’s doorstep unannounced, even rarer doing so and not wanting ‘help with physics.’ Virgil didn’t even take physics. The only conclusion that Logan’s mind could come to in the middle of this fast pace moment was that Virgil was finally ready to actually tell him the thing that Logan had been theorizing about. What thing? Well, Logan only knew it by one name: Mr. Sanders.

Mr. Sanders was arguably not a good man. Logan had been theorizing for quite some time some things that he would rather not make a hypothesis on but he did anyways. They always lead him to concern whenever his best friend’s dad was involved. The one thing Logan did not want to do, not now nor ever in his lifetime, was allow Virgil to get hurt without helping him. The older felt as though it were his personal duty, as he was Virgil’s self-proclaimed older brother, to protect him. The obvious signs of severe neglect and touch starvation that the younger exhibited broke Logan’s heart into a million different pieces, but he never knew how to help.

Whenever Virgil would arrive at Logan’s back door with pleading and fear in his eyes, Logan’s inner speculation worsened. The purple-haired boy would rarely tell the older just how he got the wounds scarring his skin, and if he did, it was only small excuses. On the worst night that he saw him (March 21st, to be exact), Virgil confessed that he was mugged, but the assailant didn't get away with much in the way of money, only in hurting the smaller. Logan wanted to believe this, but with the way Virgil squirmed and refused to maintain eye contact, he couldn’t. The best logical explanation to Logan’s favorite human being constantly rough around the edges with broken and bruised skin was parental abuse.

The figures don't lie either. It is significantly more likely for a parent who lost their spouse to abuse their child, all the while more probably for them to blame their child for the death. Once Logan added Virgil’s father’s alcoholism, neglect of his child, and Virgil’s skin as evidence, it was all the too likely that Virgil was being abused. And what could Logan do other than fix him up when he asked and offer a safe place to sleep? Virgil hasn’t disclosed any factual words about Logan’s speculation. The younger rarely asked for anything concerning safety or care for wounds either. All Logan had to go on was probability. Since he swore many months ago that he wouldn’t ask questions in exchange for Virgil being more comfortable with going to Logan for help, he couldn’t ask any questions either. But now, it seemed as thought Logan was about to get all the questions he stored inside his head answered. Hopefully.

When he turned back toward his friend, Virgil gave a fleeting upright twitch of his lip. Logan followed and gave his own, ignoring his current lengthy thought process. The oldest Brian child opened the door wider to make room for his younger friend on the porch to enter. “What are you doing out there still? Come on, it’s cold.”

With that last remark, Virgil entered Logan’s house and the two ventured to Logan’s room in the back of the house. Virgil would like to have said that his hands were shaking from the cold, but that was certainly not the case. Not one bit.

next part

#fail’s writing #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil angst #ivity and anx #famous teen roman au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #this is a really long chapter so i hope that makes up for the wait

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

More Than You Know, Ch 2 (Trixya) - Joanne Elizabeth

Summary: “When has it ever worked out well for the LA lesbian to lie to her conservative mother in the midwest about a fake woman?”

Trixie and her girlfriend are invited back to Wisconsin for her sister’s wedding… Except Trixie doesn’t actually have a girlfriend. She does, however, have a best friend who will do anything for her.

A/N: Sorry about the long wait! Chapter 3 is actually close to done and hopefully I’ve eradicated some of the stuff that was blocking me with this. As always, you can find me at @bringbackmygurlz or on AO3 at Joanne Elizabeth

Katya hated flying. Not just the actual flying part, but everything around it: the crowds, the smell, how everyone is always cranky, the overpriced bottles of water, the uncertainty of getting your bag back, the traffic. It was her least favorite thing in the world.

So when her alarm sounded, she was already awake and chewing on her lip while a clump of anxiety sat heavy in her stomach. Reaching for her phone, she saw a text appear.

“Excitedly dreading today! Have I mentioned how grateful I am for you? Not just for coming, but for being my best friend. See you soon!“

Katya’s damp braids dripped down her back as she rang Trixie’s doorbell. The door opened to a whoosh of strawberry vanilla and pink. Katya blinked and Trixie was gone, back towards the bathroom.

“Not ready yet, give me a second,” Trixie called.

“I brought you coffee.”

“I fucking love you.” Trixie’s head popped out from the bathroom, clutching a pink dress to her chest. Katya’s eyes trailed over her soft shoulders and the way her bra strap dug into them.

“Mmhmm,” Katya mumbled, taking a sip of her own to wet her lips.

“You look nice,” Trixie praised, coming out of the bathroom with the shapeless dress with bell sleeves on. Katya looked down at her simple black dress with cutouts on the arms and shrugged.

“Thanks. You ready to go?”

“Yep, the car should be here in like five minutes.” Katya sat down at the dining room table and looked into the kitchen, reminiscing to the first time she had been to Trixie’s apartment, before going to Sasha’s performance with her and Shea.

Trixie had answered the door with “I hope you’re not allergic to strawberries,” and when Katya said she wasn’t, she’d been ushered in with a tight hug. Katya had watched Trixie finish the frosting for a fresh strawberry cake, had been told she was in no way needed to help (much to Katya’s relief - she wasn’t very good in the kitchen), and had been given a mug of coffee.

Katya looked around, marveling at the baby pink walls and the little floral cross-stitched placemats. There was a guitar lying on the sofa, a Daisy Duck coffee mug on the end table, next to a wine glass with a ring of red at the bottom and a book called Kissing the Witch.

“You play guitar?”

“Yeah! I’ve been working on getting a new song down. Want to hear it?” Trixie used the back of her arm to brush the hair out of her face and Katya ached . She could easily fall for this woman, even after knowing her for only two months, if she wasn’t careful. But now that she was here, in Trixie’s perfectly coordinated home with its brass animals and fresh flowers, she knew with finality what she had suspected - they wouldn’t work. Trixie was too soft and sweet for Katya’s self-diagnosed rough edges. She wondered what her therapist would say about that if she was still seeing her. Regardless, it was better to keep the friend that made her laugh and feel understood than to fuck the beautiful girl with the amazing curves only to have their friendship ruined when Katya inevitably wasn’t enough for a relationship.

“Uh, sure,” Katya stuttered. Trixie finished with the frosting and placed it into the fridge.

“Okay, tell me if I’ve got it right enough for you to recognize it,” Trixie grinned. Katya nodded, subconsciously leaning forward in her chair towards the living room.

It was Landslide, because of fucking course it would be. Katya remembered sitting in her room, listening to the track over and over again, having what she now recognized as her first lesbian panic, eventually getting herself off to the sound of Stevie Nicks’ voice by humping a pillow and touching her growing breasts.

“I should set you up with my friend Alaska,” Katya blurted. Trixie stopped playing, the calm smile she wore dropping.

“What?”

“You like music, she likes music. You should get a girlfriend. I’ll set you up.” Katya wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. Her heart was beating so fast, and she needed to stop this.

“Um, okay,” Trixie floundered, putting the guitar back down, “Sure.”

“Remember when I set you up with Alaska?” Katya laughed.

“That was the worst. I was like, does she even know me?” Trixie picked up her coffee cup and took a seat next to her.

“Whatever, it could have worked out!” Katya protested.

“Not at all,” Trixie yawned. They sat there in the early morning silence, sipping coffee until Trixie’s phone beeped with the alert that their driver was outside.

Katya followed Trixie, practically blind with anxiety, from the car to the airport lobby, to the ticket counter, to baggage check, to security, to their gate. It wasn’t until they were actually on the airplane that she came out of her disassociated stupor and realized she was already in the death trap.

“Trixie,” Katya gasped, hands gripping Trixie’s arm that was buckling her seatbelt for her.

“It’s okay,” she assured, “You’re going to be okay. I got us snacks and gum and there’s cold brew if you need caffeine. I’m here.”

“Is it too late to drive?” Katya asked, lip quivering. She hated feeling vulnerable, hated that she’d completely left Trixie to maneuver the airport by herself.

“Yes sweetheart,” Trixie cooed, handing her a green lollipop, “Here. I risked my criminal record to bring this with us.”

“Oh my god, yes,” Katya moaned, unwrapping it quickly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Please prepare for take-off in two minutes,” a female voice spoke over the staticy speaker.

“We have a woman pilot!” Katya squealed, “This is good, Trace. This is a good omen.” Katya spoke with her mouth full of Pot Sucker.

“Good,” Trixie grinned, unraveling her headphones. Katya was erratically sucking on her treat when the wheels began turning underneath them.

“No,” she whispered. Trixie sighed and grabbed her hand.

“We live in an extremely advanced technological age,” Trixie reminded, lacing their fingers together. Katya placed her other hand on top of hers.

“Distract me,” she whimpered. They were picking up speed.

“Okay, so…” Trixie pushed air out between her teeth. “Yesterday at work, that girl that models came in again, you know the one I tell you about? And she’d dyed her hair pale blonde. It looked awful. So I helped her to find…”

Katya’s own inner dialogue whirred over the sound of Trixie’s voice, but the sound of it did help. Katya screwed her eyes up as they lifted off the ground, teeth clenching around the sucker.

“Want to watch a movie?” Trixie asked, stroking the top of their conjoined hands with her free one. Katya nodded, refusing to open her eyes.

“Wanna watch Big Eyes?” Trixie hummed. Katya nodded again, working her hands loose to take the sucker from her mouth.

“Thank you.”

“Least I could do for what I’m about to put you through.” Katya cracked an eye open to see Trixie smiling widely at her. Katya smiled back, which prompted Trixie into action: opening her iPad, finding the movie, setting up their watching experience.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Trixie was cuddled onto Katya’s shoulder. The steady weight of her helped ease the anxiety about flying, but her heart was still beating strongly over the feeling of soft skin on her arm.

Thirty minutes into the movie, Katya was pleasantly high. Her anxiety was altogether gone and she was hyper aware of every breath Trixie took, as it caused her breasts to expand into Katya’s ribs.

Forty minutes into the movie, Trixie was asleep. Katya had been feeling her breath steady out and then jolt awake, and it seemed that she’d finally given in. Katya experimentally paused the movie, gaining no reaction from Trixie. She slowly adjusted in her seat, letting the girl fall more comfortably on her collarbone.

What would have been fifty minutes into the movie, Katya was also asleep, calmed by the presence of Trixie and lulled to sleep by the rocking of the death trap.

Trixie jolted awake at the sound of the drink cart rolling by. Katya was still asleep next to her, so Trixie carefully lifted herself off of her friend and straightened up in her seat. She checked the time on her phone and saw that they were only halfway through the flight. She wiggled her book out from under the seat to read, but found it impossible to focus on the heavy words on the page.

Her thoughts were racing between each family member, and whether they’d believe her and Katya’s charade, and whether they’d support her, and whether or not that mattered. She felt like an idiot - for having let her mom believe this lie, to letting it continue, to roping her friend into the situation.

“Excuse me,” Trixie stopped the woman behind the drink cart as she made her way back, “Could we get two glasses of wine?”

By the time Katya roused, Trixie had been able to focus on her book.

“Did I enjoy my wine?” Katya asked, gesturing towards the empty glass in her tray table. Trixie huffed a laugh and raised her own half empty glass in a toast. “You did, thank you.”

“You okay?” Katya’s eyes were deep blue with concern.

“Have you ever read this?” Trixie deflected, shaking her book.

“No, but I saw the play of the other one.” Katya stretched her arms over her head.

“Yeah, Kim is doing hair and makeup for the Los Angeles run. But this is um, a little harder than I thought it’d be. But I’m liking it so far,” Trixie flipped through the black and white and red pages.

“I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got an audiobook I’ve been listening to while I work out,” Katya said, digging through her messy bag for her headphones.

When they were back on the ground (which Katya handled mildly better than takeoff), Trixie’s messages began to come through, including one from her sister telling her she’d parked and be waiting inside.

“So, Maggie will be at baggage claim,” Trixie stated, “We should lay out some ground rules.”

“Yes ma’am,” Katya saluted.

“Just stick to everything as close to the truth as possible,” Trixie took a shuddering breath, “And we don’t have to like, be overly affectionate. I’m not going to push you into anything. Consent is cool, all that.” She could feel sweat start to bloom on her forehead and chest. Katya laughed loudly.

“It’s fine, Trix. I’m here for whatever you need,” Katya reaffirmed. “I just hope they like me. That’d be the gag, we fake this to make them happy and then they’re like ‘ugh I wish you’d just stayed single and lonely.’” Trixie could hear the false bravado in her voice, but appreciated the sentiment.

Trixie huffed a hollow laugh and followed the crowd out of the plane, turning every now and then to check for Katya’s presence behind her.

“Trixie!” A voice squealed, but Trixie couldn’t locate the source. Soon, her sister was hugging her, smelling completely unfamiliar yet somehow comforting. “And this must be Katya!” Trixie plastered on a grin and turned to Katya, whose eyes were wide with fear.

“Hi,” Katya blushed, “Nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but-” Katya lifted her hands full of bags in a shrug.

“Nonsense!” Maggie exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Katya’s shoulders. “It’s so good to meet you! I can’t believe Trixie actually brought a girl home!”

“Oh wow,” Trixie blinken bd.

“I’m only teasing, Tee Tee.” Maggie squeezed Trixie’s bicep and took a bag from her.

“Don’t you dare,” Trixie cut a glare towards Katya, who had already repeated the nickname under her breath.

For the long drive back from the airport, Trixie listened to Maggie prattle on with gossip about relatives or old classmates that had stayed in town. Katya wouldn’t chime in, opting instead to watch them from the backseat and occasionally play on her phone, but Maggie was insistent about including her.

“What about you Katya? Have you ever been to Europe?” Maggie asked after a long story about their cousin’s trip to Italy and how they had complained about the pizza.

“When I was younger, we visited family in Russia.” Katya tucked her hair behind her ears. “But none of the exciting touristy places.”

“Your family is Russian?” Maggie gasped, “Wow, I’m surprised I couldn’t guess that. When did you move to America?”

“I was born here, my parents immigrated in ‘84,” Katya said. Maggie frowned, turning towards Trixie.

“Have you met them yet?” Trixie shook her head, but was interrupted by Maggie. “Is it because they’re not very welcoming? You know, in the past, Trixie has been so worried about telling us that she’s dating. You’re actually the first girlfriend we’ve met!” Maggie beamed at Katya, whose eyebrows were raising comically.

“My parents live in Boston,” she said, for lack of a response.

“Maggie, when was the first time you brought Ryan home?” Trixie asked through gritted teeth. She felt Katya’s hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. Both of the girls feigned interest in Maggie’s story, as Trixie leaned her head against the seat and let Katya rub her shoulder.

“Deep breath,” Trixie turned around and squeezed Katya’s knee while Maggie got out of the car.

“Same to you,” Katya muttered. Trixie opened her door and Katya followed suit, smoothing out her dress.

“Oh, and this is totally not where I grew up,” Trixie waved her hand around the expansive land that contained several fences and a pond. “This is Robert’s place.”

“How long has your mom lived here?” Katya followed Trixie to the door that Maggie had just gone through.

“I guess just a few years? I’ve only been one other time,” Trixie paused at the doorway. “Have I mentioned lately that I appreciate you coming?”

“I’d say no big deal, but I’ll reserve comment until this part’s over.” Trixie smiled nervously and pushed the door open.

“There they are!” Trixie’s mom called out, “I’m in the kitchen!” The door they’d come in was seemingly a mud room with deep teal walls and a stack of dirty boots and jeans. Trixie went up the stairs next to them, and when Katya reached for the bannister, she realized it was some kind of antler. She used the wall instead, as Trixie had done.

“Hi mom.” Trixie stepped gently into her mom’s space to give her a hug. Katya couldn’t see her face, but admired the way she’d tucked a blue tie dyed shirt into her white denim cut offs. She didn’t wear shoes. Katya worried briefly if she should have taken her own shoes off at the door, but Trixie hadn’t so maybe it was okay.

“And who is this?” Katya snapped her eyes from Trixie’s metallic sandals to her mom’s face. Her cheeks were ruddy and her eyes were a shade darker than Trixie’s, but they squinted the same way when they smiled too big.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Katya,” Katya extended her hand, but just like with Maggie, she got a hug instead.

“Katya, call me Valerie. I am so glad you are here. Welcome to Wisconsin! Have you ever been before?” She kept her eyes on Katya’s, but turned back to stirring a pot on the stove.

“Mom, is Ed coming tonight?” Trixie interrupted.

“No, James is sick so they’re staying home tonight. Katya, have you seen pictures of James? There’s some on the fridge.” Katya obediently went to the fridge.

“My nephew,” Trixie whispered, “Ed is my brother.”

“And there’s just three of you, yeah?” Katya spoke out of the side of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she’d know that as a girlfriend or not. She was never really good with girlfriends’ families. Trixie nodded.

“He’s precious,” Katya cooed, loud enough for Valerie to hear, “How old is he?”

“He’ll be three at the beginning of September. Do you have any nieces or nephews?” Katya shook her head.

“Val Gal! Come help me with this door,” a man’s voice boomed from below. Valerie rushed towards it.

“You okay?” Katya asked Trixie, who was leaning against an island, chewing her lip.

“This is weird,” she confessed, “She’s being normal.” Katya raised her eyebrows and pointedly knocked on the wood cabinet. Trixie laughed in agreement. A man coated in dirt and oil came up the stairs carrying what looked to be an entire tray of ribs.

“Hey there girls.” Katya saw Trixie wrinkle her nose at the tray.

“Hey, Robert. Good to see you again,” Trixie responded, not moving from where she stood. Katya followed suit, waving at him.

“Katya, right? It’s great to have you. Hope you like barbeque.” When he smiled, Katya noticed he was missing a bottom tooth. Trixie sighed next to her.

“Yeah, thanks so much for having me,” she replied warmly. Valerie came up the stairs with an arm full of beer bottles and soda cans.

“Take your pick,” she said, spreading them onto the speckled green countertop. Trixie reached for a beer and handed Katya a coke.

“So how long have you girls been seeing each other?” Robert asked as he got plates down from the cabinet. Katya jumped a little, unsure how to answer.

“Almost four months,” Trixie responded smoothly. Katya was trying to calculate that timing, but Maggie and a tall man with red hair came up the stairs and distracted her.

“We smelled dinner!” Maggie exclaimed. Katya liked that she looked exactly like Trixie, if Trixie was a skinny brunette. It made her appreciate Trixie’s curves even more.

“Hey, I’m Ryan, nice to meet you.” He extended his hand, and Katya shook it. Like regular strangers do when they meet you.

“Ryan, this is Katya, my um, girlfriend,” Trixie blushed, “Katya, this is Ryan, Maggie’s soon-to-be husband.” Katya inhaled sharply at “girlfriend” but smiled past it.

“Lovely to meet you.” Katya watched as he nodded and immediately dove into the chaos of the kitchen, helping Maggie and Valerie set the table, handing things to Robert when he needed them. Katya and Trixie stood awkwardly to the side, Katya’s anxiety picking up a little bit more. Trixie extended her hand, and Katya took it gratefully, linking their fingers together.

After dinner, of which Trixie had eaten a salad and a plate of macaroni and cheese only, and during which they’d been able to skirt a lot of awkward relationship talk by deflecting about the wedding, Katya found herself at the pond’s edge with Maggie and Ryan. Trixie had disappeared with her mother, but had whispered a promise to be back quickly in her ear.

“That was a great dinner. Does Robert cook for you often?” Katya filled the silence.

“Yeah. Robert’s great, just great,” Maggie said, twisting the cap off of her bottle of beer using the edge of her shirt, “He’s a hell of a lot better than Frank, and that’d be enough, but he’s actually pretty great on his own.”

“Frank?” Katya echoed.

“You know, the sack of shit that ruined our lives. Well, tried to. Did, for a while, especially Trixie’s.” Maggie’s lips closed around the brown glass of the bottle. Ryan reached out and put his arm around her waist.

“I - I don’t,” Katya stammered, confused.

“Surely Trixie’s told you? He was our step dad. He’s the one who used to not let us eat and scream at us and shit.” Katya’s jaw dropped, and she simply shrugged when Maggie looked to her for a response.

“I’m not surprised she’s kept it from you, honestly .She got it the worst,” Ryan chimed in, pulling Maggie tighter to him, “Remember the video thing she told you about?”

“Yeah, don’t,” Maggie warned, cutting him off. Wait, what? Katya’s heart was hammering.

“How, um,” Katya swallowed, “How long was he around?”

“About five years, til I was eighteen, so when Trixie was sixteen.”

“What happened when I was sixteen?” Trixie asked, identical beer bottle to her sister’s between her fingers.

“Um,” Maggie hesitated, “Frank left.” Katya watched as Trixie’s entire body closed in on itself. Her shoulders went up, her spine curled in, her eyes ducked down. Katya started to reach out to her, but thought better of it.

“Frank got arrested, you mean,” Trixie corrected, lifting her beer to her lips. For a few moments, all that could be heard was Trixie’s gulping. Then Lucky came bounding up, Valerie following behind.

“Anyone want key lime pie?” Her smile looked like Trixie’s, too wide for her face. Katya tried to imagine her being with someone who hurt her kids for five years, but quickly reprimanded herself - it wasn’t her place to speculate.

“Sure,” Trixie shrugged, downing the rest of the beer. Katya laced her arm under Trixie’s as they walked up the hill to the house. Trixie didn’t respond.

One piece of key lime pie turned into two and another beer for Trixie turned into several, and by the time they got to the front desk of their hotel, it was one am. The concierge was a snotty woman in her mid forties who gave them their paperwork without making eye contact, eyes zeroed in on where Katya’s hand was around Trixie’s waist to hold her up.

Their trip to their room was a silent, exhausted one. Trixie held Katya’s purse as Katya fumbled with the key, muttering “Home sweet home” into the hotel room.

“Oh no,” Trixie said, dropping all of the bags in the doorway, “There’s only one bed. My mom, when she booked it, must have-”

“I do not want to go back to that woman,” Katya replied, shoulders drooping.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Trixie sighed, running her hand through her hair. Katya could feel her tiredness radiating off of her.

“Are you kidding? The bed is huge,” Katya motioned, “We can share.”

“That won’t be weird?” She smacked her lips.

“Not any weirder than the rest of this trip,” Katya laughed, kicking off her shoes, “C’mon, I’m tired.”

They both moved around the room quietly, taking turns in the bathroom to change into pajamas and to wash their faces. Trixie insisted on drinking a whole glass of water and peeing again because it was her “hangover magic trick.” Katya slipped under the covers last, flipping the bedside lamps off and snuggling deep under the heavy blanket while maintaining room.

“Goodnight, Katya. Thanks for coming with me,” Trixie whispered, rolling over so that her back was to the girl.

“Sleep tight,” Katya replied, contorting the pillow into a sleepable form.

Katya was jostled awake by Trixie, who was kicking her legs out and grumbling under her breath.

“Trixie, wake up,” Katya shook her shoulder, “you’re okay, wake up.”

With a gasp, Trixie was awake, sitting up and looking around. Katya laid a hand on her thigh over the blanket, but that only made Trixie jump again.

��Hey, it’s me, it’s okay,” Katya practically cooed.

“Oh, Katya,” Trixie sighed, pulling the other girl in by the shoulders into a hug. Katya quietly spit some of Trixie’s hair from her mouth, tasting the shampoo.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Katya spoke into Trixie’s chest, hands trapped in Trixie’s lap.

“I want to go home,” Trixie’s voice wavered, and Katya looked up to see a pout with a shaky lip.

“We can, if you want,” Katya assured, “We can get back on a plane tonight. Tell me what you want to do.” Trixie loosened her grip on Katya, allowing her to sit up and see the tears shining in her eyes.

“That’s…” Trixie whispered, “I don’t know.”

“Tell me what you want to do,” Katya repeated, stroking her arms up and down. Trixie let out a shaky breath.

“Will you, um, just cuddle me?” Trixie’s eyes didn’t meet Katya’s, so she missed Katya’s quick nod.

“Yeah, yeah,” Katya breathed, “Lie down, honey.” Trixie obeyed, sliding down her pillow with her back to Katya. Katya ran a hand through her hair, calming her own heart rate. She pressed against Trixie’s back, feeling the heat radiate from her. She tried to slow down her breathing, but Trixie was breathing too erratically for Katya to focus. She snaked her arm around Trixie’s waist and pulled her in.

“You gotta breathe, sweetheart,” Katya soothed, nuzzling into her hair.

“Thanks for being here,” Trixie hiccuped, and Katya could hear the tears in her voice.

“Anytime,” Katya whispered.

#trixya #joanne elizabeth #more than you know #lesbian au #fake relationship au #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #rpdr fanfiction

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