choppy and uncomfortable

title: somebody said you disappeared in a crowd

rating: g

pairing: genyatta 

tags: fluff, dreams, canon compliant, implied established relationship, robot cuddling bc theyre domestic and gross, sort of alternative first meetings? anyway. i wrote this back when uprising was going on but just now finished it rip

ao3

“You may say what you want about free will,” Genji says, “but I would like to think we would have always met, regardless of the circumstances. That we were meant to end up this way.“

Keep reading

Just Go (requested)

That’s just how it was. Stiles couldn’t change the way he reacted around you; he couldn’t change the way his heart rate sped, or the way that familiar pressure descended upon his chest. He couldn’t change the way his words came out choppy and uncomfortable when your eyes met his. Stiles was utterly helpless in the realm of his physical control. But that wasn’t all. It was mental as well. Too often, he found himself withdrawing into his mind, daydreaming about you. He drifted in and out of awareness at times, too caught up in his imaginary interactions to carry out realistic ones. Of course, his behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed by the pack. Frequent accusations of being in la-la land were thrown at him along with suspiciously teasing eyes. “Sorry, just zoning out” and “I’m just tired” became common phrases that passed through Stiles’ lips, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Including Malia.

“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you,” Malia commented from the other side of the couch.

“Mhm,” Stiles mumbled noncommittally, eyes glued to the television, although he wasn’t absorbing the content.

Malia bristles, eyebrows knitting together at his answer. “Stiles, what the hell!” She exclaimed, letting her hands slap onto her thighs loudly.

Stiles jumped slightly, blinking as he turned to face her. “Ah, wait, what was the question? Sorry, I-”

“Were too busy thinking about her to listen to me?” She interrupted briskly.

“No, I-”

“Don’t lie!” Malia’s voice was loud, and she pressed her lips together briefly before shaking her head once. In a much softer voice, she repeated, “Don’t lie to me, please.”

Stiles watched her, the way she clenched her jaw in the familiar tenseness of trying not to cry, the way she blinked slowly and deliberately as if willing the tears to stay away, the way she wrung her hands together in her lap. He knew she knew what was going on, how he felt about you, and an overwhelmingly harsh sense of guilt crashed into him like a truck. He averted his eyes, watching the reflection from the television play on the shiny surface of the coffee table for a moment.

“So you were thinking about her.”

Stiles closed his eyes, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I was.”

“You do that a lot.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Is it worth it?”

At her question, Stiles looked up, meeting her teary eyes. There were now drops on her cheeks, and she sniffled quietly. Was it worth it? The question rocketed around in his head, bouncing about and giving him grief. He never wanted to hurt Malia, ever. But he had known that his feelings for you simply weren’t going to change, and he had been on the road to accepting that. But now…

“Malia, I don’t- I never wanted to… I don’t want to hurt you,” Stiles’ voice was soft, careful.

She offered a tiny, sad smile. “I think it’s too late for that, Stiles,” she whispered.

The air left him in a tiny, frustrated sigh. He was angry with himself; he was angry with himself for always seeming to hurt those around him. He was angry with himself for thinking that he was doing the right thing when in reality he was only digging himself a deeper hole. He looked down, cradling his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry, I really am, and I don’t-”

“Stop,” she interjected. “Stop it.”

He looked up briefly to see her waving her hands at him before wiping her eyes. She looked away, pretending to be distracted by the television. Stiles looked back down, focusing on his fingers, which he played with remorsefully. After a long moment of nothing but the sound of their breathing, Malia turned her head to the side to look at him.

“Do you love her?” She asked, her voice weak and barely audible.

Stiles froze, staring at the floor. Love. He swallowed hard as his mind raced to come up with an answer. The only logical thought it could form was yes. Yes, he did love you, and yes, he did want you. A long silence ensued before he finally took a deep breath and responded softly.

“Yeah.” His words seemed to linger in the air. “I do love her.”

Malia nodded, closing her eyes. A small, knowing-although heartbroken- smile appeared once more on her lips. Stiles watched her with pained eyes, knowing how much his statement had hurt her. He didn’t know what else to say, however, so he sat in an ashamed silence.

“Well,” she finally broke the stillness as she rubbed her face with the cuff of her sweater. “Then maybe you should go and show her that.”

He frowned, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “I don’t-”

“For god’s sake, Stiles,” she laughed painfully. “If you love the girl, tell her. If you want to kiss the girl, kiss her. If you want to be with the girl, be with her.” She shook her head, avoiding all eye contact. “I know she feels the same way about you.”

Stiles knew he shouldn’t have said it, but it came out before he could stop it. “She does?” There was a hopeful undertone in his voice.

Malia nodded. “Just go.”

“Are you su-”

“Go.”

Stiles watched her for a moment before nodding slowly, standing up and retrieving his jacket from where it lounged on the back of the couch. As he began to walk towards the door, he paused behind her, pressing his lips together.

“Malia, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, not turning to face him. “Don’t be sorry for something you can’t control.”

HE sighed softly, nodding before continuing on out the door. And as he stepped into his car and began the familiar route to your house, he felt a sense of buoyancy lifting his spirits. He knew he was going to be happy. And it all began when you opened your door, greeting him with a smile, but widening your eyes in surprise as he wordlessly ducked down and pressed his lips to yours.