#'everyone hit me I was annoying' and 'he made me breathe funny' haunt my brain

[sweetmilkbread]

Strangers, Ethel Cain // Roman Roy

(Shiv, Kendall)

[illegal-spiegel]

TikTok Famous Yuji Itadori/Ryomen Sukuna

Genre: crack? Warnings: eboy/fboy shenanigans A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ITADORI!! Lol I had this idea at like 3 am when I was going to bed so sorry if this sucks <3

Itadori started out with just posting goofy and tiktoks of himself

he, like most, didn’t expect to become famous and was just doing it for fun

he had a decent amount of followers though since he’s funny and is friends with practically everyone at his school 

one day, he went live to just talk to the hundred people or so that joined

they all kept daring him to go to a haunted house, graveyard, or somewhere spooky like that

Yuji Itadori wouldn’t be Yuji Itadori if he ever backed down from a challenge 

so, the next thing he knows, he’s in the car with his two best friends heading to a ‘haunted’ location 

Itadori doesn’t actually believe in ghosts or anything like that though

they brought an ouija board and everything 

they all sat down and started using it to ‘talk’ to spirits

his friends claimed that since he’s recording, the spirits won’t talk to them though

“I’m not recording! I’m live on TikTok!” he argues

they make him end the live nonetheless

when he did though, their candles flicker and they all suddenly feel a chill go down their spine 

they all brush it off as the wind and go back to trying to contact spirits

they end up ‘contacting’ a few but Itadori was looking for something a little more exciting 

“Demons and devils alike! Make yourself known!” he roars

one of his friends hits his arm and tells him that it wasn’t funny and that he shouldn’t egg them on like that 

“Like what? Oh, like this?” 

he then stands up and starts to goad the demons and whatever else is there 

“You’re all ugly! I bet you’re too weak to do anything to me! C’mon! Show us something exciting!” 

when nothing happens, as he predicts, he turns back to his friends with a smile 

“See? I told y—” 

the lights suddenly go out and the moon is all they have as light

Itadori shivers, seeing his breath when he lets out a sigh 

before anyone can really react, Itadori’s head is thrown back 

he stands as stiff as a board, even when his friends call out to him worriedly 

what they can’t see are his eyes glowing red and his jaw unhinged 

tattoos crawl along his body before disappearing, Itadori’s head coming up when they vanish 

“C’mon, guys, let’s go back. I’m bored,” Itadori says like nothing happened

maybe nothing did 

the next day though, Itadori was in the middle of filming a video when the demon appears 

“What are you wearing, kid?” the demon asks when he sees his reflection in the oddly tiny and rectangle mirror

the demon stands and stretches out his limbs, taking a deep breath 

“It’s good to be back.” 

he’s not back for long before he’s sent away, Itadori returning back to his usual self 

“What just happened...” 

Itadori brushes it off as lack of sleep before going back to his video and then going to bed early 

over the next week, the demon secretly watches Itadori’s actions 

he’s fascinated by his phone, as the boy calls it, and all the videos he posts, as he also learned from listening in on Itadori’s conversations  

the next time he appears, it’s when Itadori is out at the mall 

the demon buys things more in his style before making his way back to their home 

when he arrives, he puts on the black clothes and piercings he got 

and just for the fun of it, he records a video 

he doesn’t do much though, seeing as how he doesn’t know what’s popular these days 

he just smirks at the camera with bedroom eyes and rolls his sleeves up to show off his strong muscles and tattooed arms, lightly bobbing his head to the music

when he finishes it, he saves it and changes Itadori back before letting Itadori take over again 

Itadori blinks a couple of times before realizing he’s at home 

strange, he doesn’t remember driving back 

hm, guess he really needs to start paying attention more

about a week later, he comes across the video in his drafts and doesn’t know what to say 

sure, he’s played around with the idea of dressing up like an eboy for the hype but every time he’s tried, he’s never looked good, in his opinion 

he shrugs it off and decides to post it, trying to remember when he painted on tattoos like that 

say, where did those clothes come from? 

it didn’t take long for the video to blow up 

Itadori was in awe when he realized it 

he was a little bummed though when none of his other videos blew up though 

guess he really is just going to have to dress up like an eboy to receive attention

the next time he goes to record, he makes sure to put on a similar outfit, that he doesn’t remember buying, before recording 

the demon uses this as his opportunity to record again 

he’s made sure to pay attention to videos that Itadori watches on his homepage, remembering different dances and songs that would go with his aesthetic 

he doesn’t know why he enjoys the attention so much. Maybe it’s because he’s not strong enough to take control over this body yet, so he’s just killing time for now 

or maybe he’s just a bit of a showoff

who knows

either way, when he starts to play the slow and sensual song, he smirks as he rolls his hips and shows off the veins in his arms 

he doesn’t hesitate to post it either 

as soon as he does though, Itadori returns 

the man blinks before assuming he spaced out, seeing as how he’s still on the app 

he turns the camera on and looks over himself, grunting

he thought he looked good in the mirror but the fake tattoos really did the outfit justice 

he started to wonder if he could do it again when he notices that he’s starting to get a lot of new notifications 

he starts to grow excited before realizing that it’s a video he’s never seen before 

he watches it with a dropped jaw, not believing that it’s him 

he checks the date and—hey! That’s today!

that doesn’t make sense though. He hasn’t recorded anything yet and he doesn’t have the tattoos painted on his skin 

‘Can you be any dumber? Jeez, maybe I should’ve chosen one of your friends instead. You were just so annoying though, standing there and taunting me, acting as if I can’t do anything.’ 

“What? Who’s there?” Itadori stutters out, looking around his bedroom only to find himself alone 

‘What? Can you hear me, kid?’ 

“Um, yes?” Itadori says unsurely, wondering if he’s losing his mind 

‘You’re not losing your mind, I’m just inside of it. Ha, that was kinda funny.’ 

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” Itadori asks, crashing into his seat

‘Hey, don’t pass out. I’m just a friendly, little demon that’s possessing you.’ 

“Oh, right, of course,” Itadori mumbles, rubbing his hands over his face

‘It’s true, kid. Remember when you went out with your friends and started yelling at spirits or whatever to do something exciting? Well, I hope this is exciting enough.’ 

“Okay, wait. Let me get this straight. So, you’re telling me that I’m not actually insane and that you’re a real demon possessing me?”

‘Precisely. Glad you’re a quick learner, kid.’ 

“Right, so, um, do you have a name?” 

‘Sukuna.’

“Sukuna, okay. And do you, Sukuna, have anything to do with my patchy memory?”

‘Why, I’m glad you asked! I actually do. Hm, smart kid.’ 

“So, how does that work exactly?” 

‘It’s simple. When I have enough power saved up or just feel like it, you and I switch places.’

“Switch places?”

‘Yup. So, I’m in your brain right now but when I switch with you, you move to the brain and I take over the body,’ Sukuna explains. 

“Right, okay, cool. I’m guessing you’re responsible for the videos with the tattoos then?” 

‘Also correct. We look good, huh?’ 

Itadori pauses to pick up his phone and unlock it, watching the two videos that he’s made 

“Yeah, we do, actually. I’m getting famous, you know.” 

‘Well, kudos, kid.’ 

“Do you, uh, think you could do this again?”

‘What, make videos for you?’

“Yeah. You like making them, right? I’m sure you like to have control over my body for a while too.”

‘Hm, you got a point.’

“So, will you do it, Sukuna?”

‘Hmm, I don’t know.’ 

“You don’t know?” 

‘I want longer control over your body.’

“Um, okay. How do I do that?”

‘Well, now that you know I’m here, you’ll be more conscious about ‘where’ I’m at. So, if given your permission, I can take over your body for as long as I want.’

“That doesn’t sound too bad...”

‘Great! We have a deal then.’

“I guess so.”

and that, my friends, is how Itadori because famously known as one of the hottest tiktok boys 

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More with Itadori

Tag List: @nojammsss03​, @katsuhera​ ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

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[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 5

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 5. Click here for part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

--

When you wake up, there’s something heavy draped across your chest, and everything around you is warm.

It takes a few minutes, for everything to get back, and until you can fully open your eyes. You didn’t bother taking off your mascara – were a little preoccupied – and you’re paying for that, now.

You don’t regret anything from last night, though.

Finally, you shift so you can look beside you. You’re laying on your back and Willy is pulled up against your side, lips resting against the naked skin of your shoulder. His arm is across your body, effectively pinning you to the mattrass, as if he subconsiously tried to stop you from leaving.

He doesn’t have to worry about that.

He looks peaceful, his blond hair spread across the pillow, his eyelashes fluttered shut against his cheekbones. The rise and fall of his chest is steady with every breath he takes.

Last night comes back in flashes; lips pressed against your collarbone, your fingers curling in his hair. Your heels kicked out in the hallway, his back bumping into the wall. Cursing, laughter. His hands all over your body, with just the right amount of pressure. The way he looked like he’d never seen anything so beautiful before. The way he’d blushed when you told him that you hadn’t, either.

The question, when it was silent and dark in the room, just the sound of catching breaths.

“Stay?”

Willy’s immediate answer, unwavering and steady. “Always.”

Your alarm clock tells you it’s past 9 am, now, but you know neither of you have anything important today, so you’re more than content to press your nose against Willy’s scalp. It smells nice; familiar. He hums in response, but you don’t think he’s awake, not really.

Then, your phone buzzes.

At first, you think about ignoring it. It’s only 9am, after all, and there’s nothing that you can think of being that important. It’s probably just Zach, asking if you got home safe.

God, you’re gonna have to tell Zach what happened. He’s gonna be so smug about it; you’ll never hear the end of it.

But then your phone buzzes again, and again, and you think about Noah’s wedding. It could be your sister again, bothering you about it, or maybe your parents. Besides, the buzzing is making Willy stir, and you really don’t want to wake him up.

He’s been looking tired, the season running him down, and you’re not taking away any sleep that he could potentially get.

You carefully unwrap Willy’s arm from around you, which earns you another not-really-awake hum, this time one that sounds a little annoyed, and manage to grab your phone from your nightstand.

The words on your screen almost seem fake, but once you read them properly, you kinda feel like the room is spinning.

3 missed calls, and a text. 

From: Noah Daniels

I’m outside your apartment, can you let me in?

What in the actual fricking heavens...

With surprising clarity, your brain immediately realizes that you have two options now. You can go let him in, and talk to literally the last person on earth you wanna talk to, or you can not let him in, and risk your entire family screaming at you.

Besides, you’re supposed to be at this guy’s wedding in two days. So maybe only one option, then.

Your heart is beating way too fast, but you very slowly start the task of getting yourself out of bed without waking Will. It’s hard, to leave him there, and the thought flashes through your mind what would happen if he woke up, but he looks pretty knocked out so you decide not to worry about that.

You’ve got enough to worry about.

You throw on the first clothes you can find and try to make as little noise as you can while getting out the bedroom. Will stirs a few times, but his breathing remains even.

You really hadn’t wanted the first time you saw your ex to be like this, looking like a drowned panda wearing old sweatpants and – is that Will’s shirt, you grabbed?

But you guess you’ve learned nothing ever goes the way you want it to, with Noah.

When you open your front door, you almost expect him not to be there. Surely he was kidding, or sent that text to the wrong phone number, or it was a dare.

But no. He’s there, standing with his hands in his pockets and a hint of a smile on his face. He looks the same as he did back then, which throws you a little.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft. “I hope it’s not inconvenient, I was just in the neighborhood.”

“Uhm,” you bring out. It’s really inconvenient, but for some reason, the words can’t pass your lips.

“Can I come in? I wanted to talk about something, I guess.”

Great, now your nerves are truly flying at an all time high. Wordlessly, you step aside, and he takes the invitation for what it is and moves through your living room like he owns it, sitting on the couch without being asked. He doesn’t take off his shoes. It unnerves you, which is stupid, because Will doesn’t take off his shoes, either, and that hasn’t bothered you.

“You look…” Noah starts, pauses. Then settles on: “Different.”

“So do you,” you say, which is a lie, but you don’t really know what else to say. You could offer him coffee, but you find yourself not wanting to, so you cross your arms and stay standing in the middle of the living room.

“What did you wanna talk about, Noah?”

Noah sighs. “Straight into it. You never had a lot of time for small talk.”

You’re not sure if it’s meant to sound offensive, but it does. Maybe everything he says sounds offensive to you, now.

How did you ever love this guy?

“Well, as you wish.” Noah’s hands are folded in his lap. The engagement ring is shiny on his finger. “I’m getting married in two days, and you’ll be at the wedding. So I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any problems.”

Something in your brain short circuits. “Problems?”

Noah sighs again. It reminds you of the way your mom used to sigh when you were a little kid and you wouldn’t put on your shoes fast enough.

“Obviously things didn’t end great between us…”

Yeah, because you cheated. You don’t say it.

“And your sister told me you had some reservations about coming.”

That bitch.

“So I just wanted to make sure you weren’t, like, still in love with me.” He says it as if the thought amuses him. But he doesn’t look like he’s joking, and a storm is brewing in your mind. “Cause I know our relationship meant a little more to you than to me, and for that, I do apologize. But I don’t think it would’ve ever gone anywhere, anyway, you know? What we had was more of like, a summer fling.”

It’s like there’s wind whistling in your ear, but there’s no windows open in your apartment.

“A summer fling?” you repeat, a little dumbfoundedly. “We were together for four years.”

“A very long summer?” Noah offers, and you can tell by the smirk on his face he thinks he’s truly being funny.

“You cheated on me.” It’s the first time, you think, you’ve ever said those words to him, but you can’t keep them in now.

Noah’s face falls. “Hardly,” he says. “I just knew immediately that Betty was the one for me. I had to act on that, you understand that, right? I told you right after.”

Still counts as cheating. You don’t say that, either. Instead, you say: “You begged me to take you back.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

You want to laugh. How else could he remember that night?

He stood on your porch in the darkness and said: “Look, I know it was stupid, but I’m young, and I don’t know anything about anything. I just know I miss you. The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you, and I just want to make it up to you.”

You said: “Go fuck yourself”, slammed the door in his face and cried yourself to sleep for the next four months.

It’s not worth it, though, and it hits you how much you’ve changed. Because there was a time when you wouldn’t have had the strength to send him away, where this would’ve made you feel something. Frustration, sadness, anger. Hope, even.

It doesn’t, now. There’s not even the dull ache of being the one that was cheated on. There’s just indifference.

It feels like closure. 

“Look, Noah,” you say, “it doesn’t really matter. There’s not gonna be any problems at your wedding, okay? I’m just there because my mom wants me to be. I’ll keep quiet.” You smile, and you’re sure it looks fake but Noah doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay,” he says. “If you say so, I believe you.” He stands up, clearly ready to go now that his worries have been soothed, then walks to the door and you watch as his hand lands on the doorknob. At the last moment, he turns around.

“I knew you understood, back then,” he says. The smile on his face is a little too sharp and pointed to be genuine. “You’re just not really the kinda girl guys end up marrying, you know?”

You’re still staring at him with your mouth open when the front door slams behind him.

Suddenly, you hear a different voice.

“Nice guy, that.”

You turn around to find Willy leaning in the doorway to your bedroom, fully clothed now. His arms are crossed and he’s frowning.

“You invite him over?”

“What?” Now you’re frowning, too. “What the fuck, Will, of course I didn’t. He just showed up.”

An unwelcome feeling is starting to creep up your spine, tingling through your skin like the most unpleasant current.

What if Noah is right?

What if this isn’t anything special to Will, what if he’s just passing the time until something better comes along? You’ve never seen him pick up many girls but looking like that, surely he does, and you think of his cocky attitude that bothered you so much before you really knew him, think of the way he was used to everyone loving him.

What if you’re just a conquest to him, to show himself that he can still get people to love him? What if you didn’t get to know the real him, but simply walked straight into his trap?

What if none of this is real and he’s going to go run off to someone else, because you’re just not that kinda girl.

“Do you think he’s right?” you blurt out, before thinking it through.

You really should’ve thought it through.

“Do you think I’m not the kinda girl guys end up marrying?”

Will’s eyes widen, and you see his hands clench where they’re wrapped around himself. Something clicks in his jaw. 

“Are you fucking serious?” he says, and he sounds upset. And angry. Really, really angry. “You really think I would be here if I did?”

You don’t answer. No, you don’t really think that. You think Will is better than that. But something inside of you is gnawing at your conscious, because if someone had asked you that question last month, you would’ve absolutely thought that.

“You do,” Will says, and he sounds like he almost can’t believe it. “You think I’m that kinda guy, still. You said you got to know me, but you still think I would be here and have sex with you and tell you all those things I told you if I didn’t mean them.”

When he says it like that, it sounds stupid, and doubt is starting to rise in your chest.

“No, Will, I didn’t mean it like…”

“But you did.” Will pushes himself away from the doorway, stalks towards his shoes and shoves his feet in. Instantly, you start to panic.

He’s leaving.

“Will, come on…”

“No.” Willy looks up, and there’s nothing but pure hurt in his eyes. It cuts like a knife, because you put that there, and you never wanted to be the reason for his hurt. 

 “You know what the funny thing is, Y/N? I’ve never thought anything bad of you. I liked you as soon as Zach introduced us. I thought we could be friends. But you were always so… judgmental, and you always rolled your eyes at me so I figured I shouldn’t bother, and that hurt, because I liked you even when you didn’t like me. And now you’re accusing me of thinking something so awful of you, when I only ever though the best, and when all you’ve ever done is think the worst of me.” 

He’s grabbing his jacket as he talks, stalks towards the door and you know there’s nothing you can do or say to stop him, not when you’ve hurt him like this.

Willy stops at the door, like Noah did. But he’s not smiling, no sharp amusement in his eyes. Only pain. Only sorrow.

“I always liked you, and you always disliked me. For no reason at all. And now, after everything, you still don’t like me, and the worst thing is, I still like you.”

The door falls quietly into the lock behind him, nothing like the way it slammed behind Noah - everything around you shatters, anyway.

--

He’s not coming you text Zach.

Zach is currently at a restaurant with his entire family in law, but he still answers right away. He’s truly been your rock, the past few days, even if he did also tell you how stupid you’ve been.

You already knew that, though.

He promised, didn’t he? He’ll come.

He won’t, though, and you can’t even blame him for it. If you were Willy, you wouldn’t come to the wedding either.

You’re standing in front of the church. Your family already spotted you, tried to get you to come inside with them, but you couldn’t. Not when there was still the slightest chance, when you still had the tiniest sliver of hope that he would be there.

“I’m just waiting for someone,” you had said, and your sister had given you a look of pity.

You kinda wanted to bite her head off, except you really didn’t have the energy anymore.

The ceremony is about to begin. If Will doesn’t show up, like, right now, he’s not coming.

He’s not coming.

Against everything you knew, you’d still hoped.

Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes widen as you swirl around, but it really is who you thought you heard, her hair curled and wearing the most beautiful sundress. “Ellie? What are you doing here?”

Ellie laughs. “Your sister invited me. Said you could use some friendly faces in the crowd.” She frowns. “Aren’t you supposed to be inside? I thought I was running really late.”

“You are.” You sigh, and suddenly you feel like you could cry. You haven’t really cried, yet, refused to cry over Will when what you had was so new and uncertain. It’s not like you got dumped, for crying out loud.

If you’re never together, you can’t get dumped. So why does it feel exactly like that, then?

“Hey, what’s going on? You don’t look so good.” Ellie looks genuinely worried and that nearly pushes you over the edge; you let yourself sit down on the steps before the church.

The street is empty. The ceremony is starting, and he isn’t here. 

Ellie takes her seat next to you and waits patiently for you to talk. You want to, you need someone to talk to who doesn’t know Willy like Zach does, who might not judge you the way you’re sure Zach had – although he’d hidden it well, being too good a friend to be angry with you. 

It’s just hard to get the words out, is all.

“Remember Will?” you ask. Ellie smiles at the memory.

“The hot guy you brought to the last wedding we were at? That spent the entire evening shooting heart eyes at you while you ignored him? Yes, I remember.”

The guy who did what now?

I’ve liked you since Zach introduced us.

Fuck.

“Yeah, well.” You sigh. “I kinda fucked that one up.”

And so you tell her everything.

You tell her about the pressure of being single while Noah got married, how much you hate your family asking you those questions with pity in their eyes. About how Will promised to be your plus one if you were his; about the pact you made, the only rule that that was all it was.

You tell her you didn’t like Will, at first, but that’s because you didn’t understand him, and maybe, selfishly, because you knew how much you would like him, if you tried to understand him, and you were too scared to get hurt.

About how that happened, anyway; he wiggled his way into your heart with witty remarks and honest eyes, shy glances and the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

About how finally, you gave in to the desire to kiss him. About how it had been magical, until Noah showed up.

How, just momentarily, you’d doubted him, because Noah’s words rang harshly in your ears and you don’t think the scars he left fully healed, no matter how many stars Will had drawn around them.

About how he immediately crawled back into his shell.

“I don’t think it’s so easy for him to let people in,” you tell her. “And he let me in and I immediately broke his trust.”

Ellie shrugs. “You were scared and hurt and you lashed out. It wasn’t a good decision, but if he likes you as much as he says he does, it won’t be the end of everything. You’ve gotta talk to him.”

“I know.” You stare at the stone of the curb in front of you. The sun makes it look strangely bright; it’s a beautiful day for a wedding. “I was scared to do that, too.”

“Yeah, but, sometimes scary things are worth it.” Ellie is looking at you, clearly trying to find something there. “Honestly, the way you’re talking about him? It sounds like he might be worth it.”

“It doesn’t matter, now.” The look on Ellie’s face tells you you sound exactly as pathetic as you think you do. “He’s not here, so he clearly wants nothing to do with me. Zach said he’d come, you know, because he promised and apparently he never breaks a promise.” You laugh, a little humorlessly. “I can’t even blame him for that, after what I said to him. But I didn’t mean it, El.”

“I know,” Ellie says softly. “But he doesn’t know that, Y/N. I’m not the person you need to be telling that to.”  

You sigh. Maybe you should, but you can’t, not right now, and you don’t think it would really matter anyway. 

“We should go inside, probably.”

“Yeah.” Ellie helps you up and tightly wraps her arm around your waist, like a crutch for you to lean on, and starts to lead you inside. One more time, you look behind you onto the empty street.

But there’s nobody there, so you enter the church.

He’s not coming, anyway. 

[jawritter]

You and Me...

Chapter 6

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** VERY BIG TRIGGER WARNING!! This chapter contains descriptions of injuries and heavy implications of Male Rape! Please know I don’t take this sort of thing lightly, and I was gentle as possible in the descriptions and implications as I could be, but still getting the story across as well!! Hints of mental disturbance, language probably, kidnapping, Angst, overall this one is pretty heavy.

Word Count: 2790

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jared x Reader, OFC Justin X Reader, OFC Steve x Reader

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. After this chapter things tend to start to pick up a little.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

It had been three days since Jensen had been to the studio. 

Steve had tried calling him but got no answer. Steve was starting to get worried, therefore he was making sure everyone in the office was on edge because that was just Steve. 

"Maybe he changed his mind," you mumble, looking through the recordings that had already been done, and checking to make sure all the copyrights for the songs he wanted to do were sent off, and ready just in case he did decide to show back up.

"He can't change his mind! He's under contract to finish this album here in this studio," Steve gritted out, going through Jensen's paperwork looking for another contact to try. 

"Damn Steve, you put that shit on lock didn't you?" Justin said, spinning his chair in circles like an overgrown kid, not really concerned as to whether or not Jensen showed back up. He didn’t seem to like Jensen all that much anyway.

Steve turned to give him his best bitchface. "This album could put our studio on the map,"  he said coldly. “We need this guy to finish this album.”

Then something dawns on you, something you had totally forgotten about. You had Misha's number. 

You were going to send him a donation to his charity, and while he was here he gave it to you so that he could text you the address to send the money in to. 

"I have Misha's number, try him, maybe he knows a way to contact him," you glancing over your shoulder, and Steve looks at you like he wants to kill you for waiting until now to let that little piece of information out. 

Pulling out your phone and text him the phone number, and as soon as his phone buzzed with the number he was calling it, walking into the office, and leaving you and Justin to sit in silence on the other side of the door, listening to see if you could hear something. All the two of you seemed to make out was a muffled conversation that honestly sounded like it was very one-sided, with Misha doing the majority of the talking.

After about 15 minutes Steve walked back into the main recording room pale, and a little nauseated, flopping down in the chair next to you. 

"What I'm about to tell you guys doesn't leave this room," Steve said, looking between Justin and yourself. Your heart jumped speed. You didn't like the way he said that. 

"Three days ago Jensen was forcibly taken from Jared's bar when he was helping a bartender close up. They just found him today. He's at St. David's South Austin Medical Center," Steve looked down at the ground, and then back up at you two like he was unsure whether or not to tell you both the rest of the story. 

"Is he okay?" you asked. 

You weren’t exactly sure why your heart fell to your feet. Your hand ideally ran across the hand he touched just a few days ago taking his coffee from you.

"Was it some crazy super fan?" Justin asked, looking at Steve like he was bullshitting the two of you. 

Steve turned a little greener. 

"No, it wasn't a fan apparently,” Steve took a deep breath in order to settle himself.  

“Jensen and Jennifer hooked up a little over a week ago. Apparently, things didn’t go exactly the way she’d hoped, so when she got home she told her brother that Jensen had raped her. He and a few of his buddies took Jensen, and for three days kept him locked in a hotel... Returning the favor," Steve stopped talking, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes tight. Taking a deep breath to stave off the urge to throw up, or scream because he felt like doing both.

You fought to keep your breakfast down. The room seemed to be spinning. Your heart broke for him. Why you didn't know. What the hell? Why do you care so much? He was nothing but a complete and total ass to you! He hated you! Still, you couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling deep down inside of you no matter how hard you tried to.

---------------------------------------

Later that night you paced around your apartment with Steve's words ringing in your head. You couldn't imagine what Jensen had gone through over the past three days. It made you sick to your stomach every time you thought about it. 

Grabbing your purse you decide, probably against your better judgment, to head to the hospital. You had to see him. You didn't understand why, you had to see that he was okay. 

So now you found yourself walking through the halls of the hospital looking for a nurse to ask which room they were keeping Jensen in. Holding your studio ID tight in your hand, hoping it was enough for them to let you into his room. This late at night you would think there would be more nurses roaming the halls, but things were still and quiet, not much movement at all.

You were just about to give up. You had just about walked the whole hospital, and no one seemed to know where he was. Making your way back to the second-floor elevators you pressed the button impatiently, wondering if maybe they moved him to a different hospital, or if he just asked people to not come to visit him right now, so they were keeping his location a secret or something. 

It was stupid to come here in the first place. Jensen hated your guts. He wouldn't want to see you, so why the hell were you even here? That’s what your brain was screaming at you, and you had just about resided to the fact that it was right, and you were being an idiot by coming here.

Annoyed that the elevator was taking so long to open you were about to turn to take the stairs when you heard the familiar ding of the doors opening. Looking up you come face to... well... mid-chest... with Jared. 

"Y/N!" Jared said, wrapping you in a bone-crushing hug. He looked exhausted. The amount of puffiness and redness around his eyes told you he had been crying. "What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised to see you standing there. 

"Misha told us what happened. I came to see Jensen, but I can't find his room. No one seems to know where he is, or at least they don't want to tell me," you tell him, embarrassed that you even came you stared down at your feet.

Jared draped a long arm around your shoulders turning you around and headed toward the end of the hallway with you, stopping in front of room 241 he turned to face you. 

"Y/N, I want to tell you what you're going to see in there. It's not pretty." 

You took a deep breath. Why the hell were you all in your feels right now?

"What did they do to him, Jared?" you asked, almost afraid of the answer. Jared swallowed hard, looking like he was about to start crying again. 

"They jumped him in my bar while he was waiting on the new guy I hired to close up. They tied him up, knocked him out, and dragged him out of the bar. The rest we are guessing. He hasn't said a word since the ambulance driver picked him up on the side of the road where they dumped him when they were done with him. According to the doctors, it looks like he was tied down to something, then was repeatedly violated. That’s all we know, and he’s not telling." 

You held the vomit back that threatened in the back of your throat. Both you and Jared shivered involuntarily.

"When I first saw him he was covered in blood, and what looked like vomit. They had to sedate him to clean it all off of him and do the examination. Every time someone touches him he freaks out. They couldn't even get him as clean as they wanted because he was fighting so hard. From what I understand they cut the twist ties off of his wrist in the ambulance. They said he was just dumped completely naked, and still tied. Some dick truck driver saw him, and called the ambulance, but didn’t have the decency to stop and help him. Just kept on driving.”

Jared watched as you tried to compose yourself, the flood of emotions that were hitting you as he told you how he was found was more than you thought it would be for you. 

"You sure you wanna go in there?" he asked you when you finally could breathe properly.”I get it if you don’t.”  

"Yeah. I need to see him." 

Jared never questioned, he just shook his head and opened the door. 

At first, you didn't even see him lying in the bed. It just looked like a heap of covers in the middle of the bed. Moving around the bed you finally found the top of his head. 

He was laying on his side with his back to the door, the covers pulled all the way up almost over his head. 

"Jay...  Y/N's here to see you," Jared said, walking around the bed first. 

The heap of cover never moved. Jared looked at you apologetically. 

You slowly made your way around the bed, afraid of what you were going to see. He looked so fragile lying there in that bed with monitor, wires and different IV's coming out from under the cover. There wasn't a lot of bruise on his face. Especially around his mouth. It was bruised all the way around his lips to almost his left ear. His lips were swollen and cracked.  You shuddered at the thought of what might have caused that. 

The rest of him was well covered, but for a scratched up hand sticking out from under the cover by his face. 

It was his eyes that got to you the most. 

He never made eye contact with you or Jared. He just stared at the wall between the two of you blankly. No light there at all. No movement. A very evident “the light's are on, but no one is home” look. 

You couldn't stop the cascade tears that were falling down your face. They had broken something deep inside him, and you didn’t have to be a doctor to see it. 

"Physically the injuries aren't permanent. It's the mental damage the doctors are worried about," Jared said, sitting on the small sofa next to his friend's bed, watching him closely. 

Jensen just continued to look at the wall as if the two of you weren’t even in the room, and no one was talking about him less than three feet away from his bed. 

There was a picture of him and his kids by the bed, no doubt brought there by Jared. He was smiling in the photo. He looked so happy. So contradictory to the broken man laying there in front of you. The longer you stood there you felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Everything in you wanted to pick him up and just hold him until he was okay again, even though you knew that him being “okay” again wouldn’t ever be that easy.

"Did he really do what they say he did to Jennifer?" you turned and asked Jared, feeling like you were going to be sick again looking at the dirt and dried blood under his fingernails. 

You tried to keep your mind from wondering whether the blood was his, or his attackers. You weren’t very successful.

"I don't know, and I'm not trying to justify anything he may have done, but do you think he would have deserved this? I was there when he asked her to dinner with him. She was definitely more than willing to show up at his house wearing next to nothing." 

He was right of course. No one deserved what Jensen had been through. 

You sat down in the chair next to his bed. Jensen was still staring at the wall like he didn't even know the two of you were in there. Reflexively you reached for his hand, wanting to comfort him in some way, but he jerked it under the cover before you even got close, never making a sound. 

Even though he didn’t make a sound, he slowly looked up at you. Jared moved closer, not sure what he was going to do, but hoping that seeing you would pull him out of whatever mental cage he had enclosed himself in. 

He did nothing. He stared at you for maybe a whole minute. A single tear slipping down his face then looked back at the wall. The blank look never once leaving his eyes. 

Nurses came in checking the monitors while you and Jared sat next to Jensen talking, trying to avoid the subject of Jensen's injuries in front of him. Neither of you wanted to upset him. Jensen never moved, still just staring at the wall. 

Finally, looking up at the clock you saw that it was close to 1 in the morning. Rubbing your face in frustration because even though you knew it was late you didn't want to leave him. He had dozed on and off while the two of you sat there talking, but he seemed to be awake right then. The amount of drugs they were giving him to manage his pain level probably didn't help his current state either. Still, you couldn't imagine the physical pain he was in. You didn't even want to think about what was going on in his head. Still, it was late, and you needed to let Jared get some rest. 

"It's getting late, I need to let you rest. I'll come by tomorrow after work if that's okay," you tell Jared, reaching down to grabbing your purse. When you leaned down to grab your purse you had put your hand on the bed to brace yourself.  It was something you did without thinking. Just a natural movement.

So lightly you almost didn't notice it you feel a calloused hand lay softly on top of yours. Looking up you see Jensen had reached over and grabbed your hand. Both yourself and Jared held your breath. For the first time, Jensen slowly made full eye contact with you, and not like he was looking through you with the same blank look on his face. 

It was eerie and unnatural. Even though he was physically there, and probably knew vaguely where he was, he seemed to mentally be millions of miles away.

You went to take your hand away just to see what he would do, testing the waters kind of. When you did he tightened his grip on your hand, holding it in place. 

"Jay," Jared said, trying to get his friend to look at him. 

Jensen never spoke, but he did look at him with tears falling from his deep green eyes. It almost looked like he was on the edge of panic, but wasn’t quite mentally there enough to fall over that edge. 

"Are you in pain?" Jared asked. 

Jensen did nothing. 

"Do you not want Y/N to leave?" he asked Jensen again. 

Jensen did nothing, just stared back and forth between Jared and yourself. 

Closing his eyes he slipped back into his drug-induced sleep with a death grip still on your hand.

For just a moment you considered staying, you did stay for another hour, Jensen never moved again, just slept. Honestly, it's what his body needed. To rest. So you gently slipped your hand out of his, gave Jared a hug, and your number, telling him to call you if he needed anything, and made your way to the door, letting both men get some rest. 

When you finally got back to your car you sat there completely broken-hearted for the man lying in that hospital bed.

You hadn't realized it till right now. Seeing him so broken had brought it right in the front of your attention. 

You didn't hate him like you thought. 

You felt something else entirely. 

This changes things.

For you anyway. Jensen had a long road ahead of him. Last you knew he hated you. Starting your car you wiped away the tears that were still falling from your own eyes. Praying to whoever was listening that you didn't get your heartbroken and that he could recover from this.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[cookinguptales]

A long post about having undiagnosed ADHD as a little girl. And how we all need to talk a hell of a lot more about Reaction Sensitive Dysphoria.

(cw: mental illness, childhood punishment, discussions of childhood self-harm & suicidal ideation)

When I was a little girl, I was a crybaby. I didn’t know why I’d cry all the time. I just did. Everything always felt catastrophic, even if it was just a disagreement over what to play with my friends. People called me manipulative. I got made fun of at school. I was sent to the school therapist. Hell, the only time I ever had to go to the principal’s office, I was in kindergarten and would not. stop. crying. I was literally sent to the principal’s office for crying too much.

(Note. How did I respond to that? I cried. A lot.)

Here are a few examples of things that made me feel like the world was ending:

Once I came home sobbing and my parents asked me what was wrong. Why was I crying? Because the other kids had called me a crybaby.

Once at daycare (around age six), some older boys were making effigies of their teachers out of play-doh and then smushing them and convinced me to join in. The minute I did, they told me that they were telling my teacher, which made me about lose my damn mind.

I was a voracious reader and often ran out of reading material. Once I sneaked some of my mother’s romance novels that she’d left in the bathroom for light reading. They were Very Adult. I was so scared she’d find out and scold me for reading sexually explicit books.

Now, my parents think these are kind of funny stories. They say that I was very cute. But in truth, I was a nervous wreck. My life was pretty good in most ways, but I’d have these moments that just felt like cascading catastrophes. Anytime someone criticized me or my work or my ideas, the sky would just come crashing down. I’d cry so hard I couldn’t breathe. I’d cry so hard I threw up. I grew out of the crying by about age nine, but that sickening feeling of failure never really left.

About 8 years ago, I was diagnosed with ADHD. Severe ADHD. I believe the doctor’s exact words were “I don’t even know how you graduated from high school”. They tried me on ADHD medicine but it made my heart go dokidoki so I just had to live with being unmedicated. I wasn’t told a lot about ADHD at that point, or how ADHD symptoms differ for women, so I just kind of assumed that it was just focus and that’s it. Brain fog wasn’t exactly new to me, what with my other illnesses, so I figured I’d just live with it.

But about a year ago, I learned about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which is a fairly common symptom of ADHD that no one ever told me about in my goddamn life! It essentially means that when you are criticized (or perceive something as criticism) by others or by yourself, your brain goes into absolute hyperdrive. You go from zero to “everyone hates me and I deserve that and probably don’t deserve to live too because I am just the worst” over like. literally nothing. And it’s not just like a mental thing you can train yourself out of. It’s characterized by actual physical pain. Y’all, I have anxiety and depression and this is not the same thing. This is your whole body seizing up and your brain going into a maelstrom that’s fairly similar to a panic attack.

Here’s the less cute side to all of those stories:

I had very few friends, and the friends I did have thought I was annoying and manipulative. The more I cried, the more kids stayed away from me.

After the Play-Doh incident, I cried for days. Days. And I was scared of my teacher for weeks. My parents laughed it off as a cute child thing, but none of it was cute for me. The older boys forgot about it by the next day, but it haunted my interactions with that teacher for weeks. It interfered with my education. I was a nervous wreck at school. I was so scared that she would hate me. That I’d be singled out in class. That I’d fail and my whole education would be upended and I’d fail out of school and my parents would hate me too and my life would be over. That’s... a lot for a six year old.

Those romance novels? That was a closely guarded secret that I kept for years. For literal years, I was afraid she’d somehow find out that I’d read those books. I would think of it when I was nine, ten, eleven years old and my whole body would stiffen up. I’d occasionally throw up. I cried about what might happen if my parents ever found out. Would they hate me forever? Yes, probably. They’d never love me again. I was a bad child. I finally told my mom about it a few months ago. I was 29. A small part of me was still scared I’d get in trouble. (My mom laughed about it; she was just like ‘wow, I should have put those books up higher’.)

When I was six, I went to an aftercare at a neighbor’s house for a while. (This predated the other daycare.) One day, one of the kids at aftercare didn’t get off the bus. The lady asked if anyone knew where he was. Trying to be helpful, I said I thought I’d seen him on the bus. (And like -- I really did think I did. But I was six and six year olds are uhhh not smart.) Surprise! He’d actually left school early for a dr’s appt. But she thought he’d missed his bus stop and spent like an hour on the phone figuring out what happened. And y’all. When she realized he hadn’t been on that bus, she was furious. When my other neighbor picked me up for my mom that evening, the lady told her that I was a bad child who’d purposefully lied to scare her. She said I wasn’t allowed to come back. And ohhh guys. I begged my neighbor not to tell my mom. (She did.) And then I begged my mom not to tell my dad. She was honestly kind of alarmed at how vehement I was about dad not knowing. (I was like a shaking, sobbing mess.) She asked me what I thought would happen. idk. Maybe he’d hit me. (My parents never hit me.) Maybe he’d throw me out of the house. Maybe he’d never talk to me again. He’d definitely stop loving me. I was so bad. So, so bad. I was a bad child. No one would ever love me. I was a worthless, bad child.

In short, I was hysterical.

When my parents finally talked to me about it, it was less of a talk about consequences and more talking me off the fucking ledge. They weren’t that concerned about the actual incident; they figured out pretty quickly that I’d just made a mistake. A temporarily scary one, but a mistake all the same. (I basically never misbehaved, so they were kind of confused by the whole situation, honestly.) But they were very concerned about my reaction to it. I knew they loved me, right? I knew that they wouldn’t hurt me, right? Why did I think that was a possibility?

I didn’t know. I still don’t know. It wasn’t rational. It was just my brain exploding into a thousand tiny pieces.

This is not a memory my mom laughs about. I think it really genuinely disturbed her. She’s still angry at that aftercare neighbor for doing that to me. As an adult, I realize that the person who actually fucked up in that scenario was the boy’s mother, who didn’t call to alert aftercare that he wouldn’t be coming. (Funnily enough, that boy’s mother was my first grade teacher -- the one I was so terrified of. Small town. I guess I was scared of her hating me, too.) But as a child, this wasn’t just bad. It was catastrophic. I genuinely considered hurting myself. I was six years old and I considered hurting myself. Suicidal ideation is often part and parcel with RSD. I’ve had to deal with that since elementary school.

RSD is real and it’s terrifying and it’s not unusual in children with ADHD. It’s still a problem that I struggle with. I’ve had friends not answer texts for a while and my brain just. assumes that I said something wrong. And now they hate me. Because I’m a bad person. And my whole body will shake. I’ll sweat. My stomach will roll. My chest will literally hurt like I’m having a heart attack. I still have to blink back those tears. Sometimes I’ll go for a walk to distract myself and burn off all that energy. Sometimes I’ll write a post like this. Sometimes I’ll just lie in bed. Shaking. Trying very hard not to think about doing Bad Things. It’s hard to say how it’ll go until it goes.

(Note: I’m okay right now! I was just talking about this with dad yesterday so I’ve been thinking about it.)

And this is not my friends’ fault! Or my family’s fault. This is no one’s fault. It’s just... mental illness, I guess. It’s hard to predict. Sometimes I can have a calm and reasonable discussion about my faults (which I fully admit exist) and sometimes someone disagrees with me on whether a tv show is good and my brain shits itself. (I’m dumb and stupid and this person probably hates me now! Because I didn’t love Avatar! Why did I open my big mouth? Now our whole relationship is ruined and I ruined it because I am a dumb relationship-ruiner!) Obviously, it gets worse when my physical and mental state is already fragile. I have a lot of chronic physical and mental illnesses, so like... it happens. But it’s very hard to predict, very hard to control, and all you can do is really talk yourself through it when it happens. Breathe. Focus on what’s real and what’s not. Distract yourself. Be as kind to your brain as you can because it will not be kind back.

Talk to people who love you. Try, whenever possible, to be one of those people.

idk. I wish I had concrete advice to finish this off. But it’s more just like... please learn to see the signs, especially in small children. I had far too many strong emotions for a child to figure out on her own. I really could have used some help. It’s too late for my childhood, but not for the other kids who are struggling with similar issues right now.

And if you read this and see yourself in it, do me a solid and talk to your doctor? Your brain might thank you one day.

[sage-is-a-married-woman]

It'd be better if we had just never met

Kisses only held bad memories for her. Well not necessarily the kiss itself, those had always been good, but the overall feeling of it carried a desperate sadness that haunts her to this day. In front of her the teacher happily explained the proper conjugation for another verb. Besides if you really thought about it kisses were disgusting. Sloppy wet mouths all over each other, what if the other person didn't wash their teeth. Or if they ate something gross. The only reason people think kisses are amazing is because of all the chemicals their brains released... she was totally not bitter, not at all. Her back pressed against the wall and he pressed into her. Tilting her head upwards she noted that he'd grown taller. His mouth fell on hers making a soft wet sound when their lips started moving. His tongue darted between her lips, the jolt her body gave was steadied by the hand on her back. He'd really grown bolder since their first kiss. Pulling apart her head bumped against the wall. His lips trailed to her cheek, her neck, making wet noises as they went. 'You have to get to practice.' It was a halfhearted warning and he felt it. His eyes crinkled as his lips twisted into a smirk. When had he learned to smirk like that? Once again their lips connected and if possible it felt as though she was pressed deeper into the wall. (L/n) looked pissed. Her scowl at the board made the new English teacher tense up. Suddenly Ms. Masaomi became clumsy. The marker dropped from her hand along with her book. Bending down to pick them up Ms. Masaomi almost hit her head on the desk. Semi raised an eyebrow, by then the class was used to the famous Masaomi clumsiness. So no one said anything as Ms. Masaomi struggled to find the page she was in. Semi turned to glance at (L/n). She wasn't glaring at the board. No (L/n)'s gaze was cold but far off, obviously not focused on the lesson. He wished he could let Ms. Masaomi know that (L/n) was not criticizing the English lesson.      Movement caught his eye again. Turning to the right he was in time to see (L/n) take out her lip balm and apply it on her lips. Common sense told him to look away because he knew what that innocent motion did to him. But he stared as the pink waxy tube passed over her lips. He ignored her hands as she put the lid back on. His focus was still on her lips, they did the thing where she pushed them together before letting them return to their original shape. Purple or even blue lipstick would look good on her. Maybe not to wear out in public, but maybe just to leave marks. Great, now he had to think of something else to clear his mind of that image. Shooting (L/n) a final glance he noticed that she had leaned back on the chair, arms and legs crossed, and her expression still twisted into a bitter scowl.     "Miss (L/n), is-is there a problem?" Called back to reality she glanced at Ms. Masaomi. Blinking she realized that somehow four other words had appeared on the board. "Is there a problem?" The question came again and she relaxed, better than a sudden verb quiz.     "Uh no?" Well she had been reliving her worst memories yet but no one had to know that. Ms. Masaomi seemed to relax and she briefly wondered what her expression had been.     "Alright, it's just that you looked rather upset." Ms. Masaomi had hit the nail on the head. Moving her bangs out of habit she looked to the side. Even Semi was looking at her.      "Sorry, I just realized I forgot my lunch money again." The response was immediate. A couple of boys offered up to buy her food, and some girls even offered up their own money. (L/n) visibly startled, but politely declined all the requests. "I'll just run to the dorm after class. Thank you though." Their classmates weren't satisfied with that. Protests rang out again and even Ms. Masaomi looked deep in thought. Semi had to admit, the scene in front of him was almost ridiculous. He looked at the ceiling and made some mental calculations, yeah he had enough.     "Hey, I still owe you from last time so if you want it can be my treat today." He

ignored the stares directed at him. (L/n) dropped her gaze as she thought, out of habit her finger came to rest under her lip. Aware of the how many stares were directed at them Semi resisted the urge to stare at her lips. Her eyes lifted to his again and she nodded.     "Alright, thank you Semi." A casual smile didn't make his heart pitter anymore, so he returned the grin and turned to the front again. Pointedly glancing at the board (L/n) finished directing all attention to Ms. Masaomi again. Semi didn't see what happened next but suddenly Ms. Masaomi returned to cheerily conjugating verbs on the board. It must've been another smile he reasoned. Ah the power of pretty girls.  ``````````````````````````````````````     "... and then Ms. Masaomi suddenly cheered up and continued the lesson." Finishing the story Semi took another bite of his food.      "You're exaggerating! Not 'all the boys' suddenly jumped and offered me lunch." (L/n) dropped her fingers after doing air quotes. Lifting the carton to her lips she continued to sip her drink. "And besides, everyone was just being nice." Semi gulped his rice down and turned back to her.      "Yeah well, Hongou and the others were sitting at the back so." Tendou's eyes darted back and forth between Semi-Semi and (L/n)-chan. Only Wakatoshi hadn't picked up on Semi's crush on the transfer student. Everyone else was just waiting for them to hurry up and get together already. Including him, Tendou crossed his arms and just observed them as they sat across from him. They looked good together in the way that good looking people just did.... although neither of them realized that either.     "I swear, pretty girls are just treated different." Tendou turned his gaze to Semi-Semi, should he point out that Semi also received that kind of treatment? The slurping beside Tendou suddenly stopped and Hanabi leaned across the table.      "Semi-san, can I just mention that you're also pampered?" That caught Semi by surprise, before he could compose himself he heard (L/n) gasp and turn to look at him.     "True! The math teacher gives you special treatment all the time." Suddenly the tables had turned. (L/n) smiled smugly at him as Tendou continued to list off the benefits Semi had been given. Something about free sports drinks from the coach and shorter laps from the PE teacher.     "Oh, you have a grain of rice on your face." Interrupting Tendou (L/n) rubs at her own cheek and Semi copies her. "No, here." Without thinking too much about it she reaches up with a napkin and wipes at his cheek.     Semi only felt the texture of the napkin against his cheek. There had been no skin on skin contact. Yet his breath caught in his throat as she swiped at his cheek. "There." She put the napkin down on her plate. Flashing him a smile she finished her drink.     From across the table Tendou was shooting him a funny look. Well considering Tendou always made funny faces that wasn't unusual, but the way Tendou was looking at Semi irritated him. Semi shoved another spoonful of food into him mouth ignoring the knowing smile on Tendou's face. ```````````````````````````````````     Number seventeen had been easy, but number eighteen and nineteen were annoying. She taps her pencil against the paper as she stares at the problem. Or rather, the tangle of words that had confused her for the last fifteen minutes. At least it felt that long to her. Leaning back on her chair she wonders if she should google the problem and see what pops up. In seconds her hands reach for her phone and her finger settles on number eighteen. There was surely nothing that google couldn't solve.  "You know, that's cheating." Semi pulls out a chair and sits in front of her. He's still wearing the black t-shirt and purple shorts that all the boys wore to volleyball practice. She looks at her phone quickly to check the time. Didn't practice end only ten minutes ago? "Do you need help with the assignment?" She nods at him but remains silent. "What, do I have something on my face?" His voice is sharp as he shoots the question

at her. There must be something in her expression that alerts him to her curiosity but he takes it the wrong way.     "You just seem a little tense. Is something the matter?" She doesn't miss the way his hand balls up into a fist. Only for it to uncurl seconds later. The pencil is still in her hand as she waits for him to answer her. Semi Eita was a classmate that helped her find her place in her new class. She hopes that he can trust her enough to share his problems.     "Yeah I'm just tired from practice." Perhaps that was too much to hope for. Thinking carefully, then she also wouldn't ever dare speak to him about Karasuno. She gives him a small smile and is prepared to change the subject to something else.     "I got replaced." The words snap her back to Semi and her concern for him. It doesn't take much to realize that he's speaking of the volleyball team and his position as setter. Silence hangs between them but it encourages him to continue. "A first year is now the official setter. I hate to admit it but he's pretty damn good. A better match with Ushijima than me I suppose."     "Twenty five to eleven." Now it's her words that snap him out of his thoughts. His eyes focus on hers but he looks utterly baffled. "Twenty five to eleven, that was the score for the second set of the Shiratorizawa versus Aoba Johsai match." Semi still looks confused at her words. In her mind the wheels turn rapidly as she thinks on how to elaborate her point. "Last year during a game for the inter high you went setter to setter against Oikawa Tooru, Miyagi's favorite setter, and won! With your plays and your wits." His response wasn't quite what she expected. Semi's smile was one of those halfhearted pity smiles. She doesn't stop to wonder what it truly means. Instead she tries to articulate her thoughts before he can thank her for her pathetic attempt at comfort.     "Semi Eita you're the best setter I've ever met! Both in personality and ability." That catches him off guard and she's proud of herself. Despite her flaming cheeks she holds his gaze steady.     "And how many setters have you met exactly?" There's not a hint of malice in his tone and she relaxes. Playing the offended party she frowns.     "I'll have you know I've met plenty! Oikawa Tooru was in my class at Kitaiichi. I also met his junior and at Karasuno I knew both the setters." Lovely, she named a solid four setters. Semi would have a field day teasing her. "Also! I also know foreigner who played setter at a national team..."     "So you're saying that out of the five setters you know, I'm the best. Including the foreigner from a national team?" Semi's teasing smile did nothing for her flaming cheeks, though she wasn't sure if that was because of he was teasing her or because his looked so handsome.     "You could be if you wanted to! Point is don't give up, keep working hard and you can sweep the rug out from under that first year." Her heart thumps annoyingly fast in her chest. Those words were so clichéd she might as well have said something like 'follow your dream' or 'the sky's the limit.' Semi's expression is foreign to her, it could be a confused face, or shocked, or simply blank. She needs to remember to keep her bloody mouth shut next time. Except he smiles at her and it takes her breath away. Or rather it makes her let out a small strangled squeak that she hopes he never heard.     "Thank you (L/n)." The smile she gives him is genuine and almost involuntary. Friends were precious, much more precious than intimate relationships. If she hadn't transferred to Shiratorizawa she wouldn't have had the chance to befriend Semi Eita and she wouldn't know how good it feels to be thanked for her awkward words. "Right, so you're probably struggling with the last two on the assignment right?"     The subject is closed and she's truly happy to have been of help. Semi teaches her patiently the proper way to solve the problem. Listening to him the words begin to untangle. Cutting him off she rapidly writes out what she understands. The answer she gets is C.... and

she didn't even have to use google.     "See, you can do it." The tip of her pencil breaks at his words. The back table of the library after volleyball practice, a problem she was struggling with, and a simple sentence with encouraging words. This was all too familiar. Her hand shakes as it grasps the pencil sharpener and she can feel Semi eyeing her. She was being too sensitive! This is why nobody can stand girls after a break up. Although it hadn't even been a breakup because there hadn't been a relationship and there she went again with the annoying thoughts.      "...(F/n)?" Her eyes fly to Semi. There's a tint of pink on his cheeks. Being called by her first name wouldn't be that big of a deal is she wasn't in Japan. "Sorry. I called your name three times and you didn't answer so..." But she was and so her thoughts race as he speaks.     This wasn't Karasuno. Semi Eita was sitting across from her, not him. Semi didn't know a thing of why she transferred schools after only a year at Karasuno.     "Sorry, I was spacing out." She hoped Semi would buy that. Although from his shrug it looked like he hadn't. She turns the pencil in the box watching as the shaving forms a skirt. "Well, to be honest it does feel a bit weird to be called (L/n) all the time. But I get that it's a pretty big deal here, and that people would take it the wrong way if only you call me (F/n)." Her words are supposed to lighten the mood, but she still feels Semi's intense stare as she pulls out the pencil from the small box.      "Not that they would take it the wrong way. But everyone would assume we're dating so-"     "Better stick to Semi and (L/n) then. We don't want your fangirls to cry.~" She points the pencil at him and forces her smile a little too wide. Last year she would've done anything for the setter of the volleyball team to call her by her first name. Now she wants his innocent mistake to be forgotten because there was no way that she was close enough with Semi Eita to be called (F/n).

[serahsanguine]

School, Sex and Subterfuge NC-17

Chapter 9 of?

part one, part Two, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8,   AO3

tagging @today-in-fic @skullsmuldon @foxystarbucks @baronessblixen

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Notes; im so sorry this chapter has taken so long to get out i have struggled quite a bit over last few months with depression, writer's block and my three kids. I would make one thing very clear i will never ever leave a story unfinished i have read a story where this has happened and it annoyed me so much. It may months or even years to complete but i will always finish a story this goes for both long-running stories I have.

on a lighter note, I have many many ideas for this story some i really think you will enjoy :)

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Chapter 9; An Answer? 

Mulder knew she was going to be confused but he certainly didn’t expect her to run out on him, maybe a slap or some hateful words but not this. This is something he didn’t not know how to deal with, the confusion of not knowing either way. This is when he truly realized he had hurt her a lot more than he thought and his actions of past events coming back to haunt him. How could he be so stupid?  

He let everything go, his whole heart poured out in words, he was willing to let her in, he had let her get this close. He sat down on the closest seat he could find, the emptiness of the room hitting him like a freight train. He could hear people scuttling about outside the office door. He looked around at the books, the certificates, the countless women he had brought back to these four walls. The memories they had, the stories they could tell but not one of them meaning anything to him in reflection to the memories he had of Dana Scully. The minutes ticked by and silence fell upon the room once more.

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Scully ran and ran her heart racing, blood pumping, breathing fast and uneven. She flew past people, whizzing past the gardens, cars and buses. She ran until her legs could not run anymore. She was in shock, he said I love you, and he wanted to start over. She stopped a couple of miles from campus next to a small lake, the water reflecting the moonlight in all directions, the sun had set and the air was warm. There was peace and silence in the air all around her. The nightlife chipping and chirping as small bats flew above her.

She stared into the open water her mind fogged, her heart bleeding. Could she start over with him? Could she love him? Was she already in love with him? Was Missy right all along and she cared for him deeply? She started walking back to her dorm. The question running over and over in her mind and the answers nowhere to be found. She was torn in two her rational side saying no, but her mind screaming to let him in.

The Next Day.  

She still hadn’t made a discussion on what she was going to do she needed to talk to someone, rationalize it in one way or another. She took Serah out to dinner somewhere different, somewhere she won’t be seen by him. It was a small restaurant, quiet, even for the dinner rush hour. With homemade food from starters to desserts, plus it didn’t cost a lot either. They both sat in the corner booth with a window overlooking the garden and cobblestone road.

Scully explained in a shorter version of everything that happened and Serah just sat there and listened.

Serah took Scully’s hand and clasped it inside her own. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t no Serah, the rational side of me has a bunch of issues,” She looked over at her friend and she just nodded and let her continue.“At the end of the day, he still is my professor, he's older than me.”

“Oh, come on Scully. He may be older than you but not by much it’s only 8 or 9 years and it’s not like your a child, your a beautiful woman with her own mind and age is just a number baby.”

“I suppose you’re right but what would Ahab think? Let alone, my friends? Present company excluded. Should I transfer classes, or just quit going?”

“Wooo, wooo, wooo. Let's answer them one at a time”

“I don’t know what your father would think but if he loved you and could see you were clearly happy with Mulder then I suspect he would be happy too. If your friends can’t see that you are happy with him you don’t need them in your life.  And to answer the last two questions is an unequivocal no. If you were to listen to your heart what would it say?”

That was the question wasn’t it what would her heart say, he was amazing everything about him, his intelligence, his heart and soul, certainly his looks. And come on he is mind-blowing in bed he knows how to treat a woman and make feel her on top of the world. She blushed at that thought.

“If he means that much to you you should at least email him or go to his office.”

Scully looked at her friend with a curious look “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes dear you did,” Serah said sarcastically smiling from ear to ear.

She blushed hard when she thought about what she said about Mulder in bed. She laughed it off.

“Maybe I will.”

“Humm.”

“Talk to him that is; see where we go from there.”

They both finished up the lunch grabbing their things and headed towards their next lecture.

Several hours later  

It was getting late and many of the students had gone to either the dorms or out into town. Scully stood there at Mulder's door anxiously hesitant to knock, she could see his shadowy figure walking back and forth across the room. Several minutes passed, she was lost in her own thoughts when she lifted her hand to finally knock, he opened the door bowling into her sending papers everywhere.

“Shit I’m sorry,” he said before even looking at who he had run into. She started helping to pick up the papers.

“It’s ok, it was my fault,” she said sheepishly ad he looked up at her and their eyes locked, both frozen in there place.

“Dana.” He said matter of fact.

“Fox.” She replied in the same manner.

He picked up the last of the sprawled papers “Come in.”

“After you.”

They both stepped into his office shutting the door behind them. He placed the papers on the nearest surface and walking through to his private office where they couldn’t be seen.

The atmosphere was tense, so tense you could cut it like butter. The only noise in the room was the gulp of air from the water container and the hum of people chatting walking by. They both stood there not saying a word if a pin were to fall you could hear it shatter around the corners of the room.

She had a whole speech prepared, why they were not good together. What would happen if they were to get caught? But standing in front of his presence she lost all rational thought. Her stomach was in knots. Her heart hammering in her chest, her hands clammy, her mouth dry. But it despite all that she was the one to talk first.

“I love you too,” the words just poured out of her mouth her brain finally caught up with what she had spoken.

His face was in shock but was the kind of shock when someone is happy. She stuttered when she realized what she had said. She went to say something, but secretly she said fuck it, she deserves to be happy and damn to the consequences, at least for now. If something were to happen further down the line they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist and kissed him with such force they both toppled to the floor with her on top. He hit the ground with an ugh but they both started laughing hard.

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He was hurt but didn’t care, she had said the words back to him, and he was over the moon. He touched his lips to hers, his hands in her fine silk hair. She pulled away and asked,  

“Why me? Out of everyone, why me?” he looked into her eyes with such clear and understanding and such force without hesitation.

“You’re beautiful, so quick-witted and funny, you keep me on my toes always surprising me. You laugh is infectious and you smile lights up the whole room. You...are my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the room is full of people, you are my constant... my touchstone. "

Her smile meant everything to him and he didn’t expect her to say anything back not quite yet anyway.

He kissed her neck her body started grinding on top of his, he felt his erection grow underneath his trousers and felt the flush of her skin against his own. His hands sitting on top of her t-shirt just above her hips.

“Mulder please…”

He lifted her top above her head and discarded it on the floor next to them, soon unclasping her bra and discarded that too. She moved her body slightly and it took him no hesitation to take her breast into his mouth letting the nipple roll around underneath the flesh of his tongue. Her hands undoing the buttons on his shirt. She smiled at his bronze chest as she raked her fingers down his stomach before undoing the zipper and button on his trousers then pulling his cock free from his cotton boxers.

“Fuck Scully” she only licked her lips, God those lips he thought and she smiled a wicked smile as she started pumping him at an antagonizing slow pace. He let her continue until he couldn’t take it anymore moving his hands from her hips lifting her skirt. He sat up just a little bit.

“Do you have any idea what wearing this little black mini skirt and black knee-high socks does to me?” he whispered sultry in her ear. Before moving her panties to the side and slipping his fingers through her dripping wet folds.    

“I have…..Jesus Christ” her words left as he could tell she was lost in what he was doing to her he found her bundle of nerves at the apex of her legs.

Swishing, gliding, flicking, rushing and slowing his fingers bringing her to her peak and stopping before lowering her body every so slightly and sliding his member into her opening. He felt her hugging him, clinging even as he filled her up stretching her to her limits. She threw her head back her wet matted hair sticking to her skin. As she let out a moan of pleasure. She placed her hand either side of his head on the floor.

Creating an even deeper angle he let a growl her lips touched his and he took it as a sign to started thrusting into her, her tiny body matching his pace, her naked chest pressed up against his hot flesh. With the sound of their moans and skin slapping skin and the smell of sex clinging to the air.    

“Mulder, I’m so close.”

“Me to let go,” and she did with the force of the world-shattering around her. He moaned right along with her, the height of pleasure exploding in there bodies at the same time.

After a few minutes, they lay spent half-naked on his office floor. He looked down at her.

“Next time I’m taking you to dinner first and make love to you somewhere other than my office floor”

“Maybe you’re apartment?”

“It’s definitely in your future, ” he smiled.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I hope you do,” he said before holding her close giving her one last hug before helping her up off the floor and finding her clothes. After they finished getting dressed and looking presentable. He looked at her and asked, “so dinner?”

“I didn’t think you meant now?”

“No time like the present," he smirked.

He left the office first and she soon followed slipping into his car hoping no one saw before he drove her to the restaurant for dinner.  

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A MASSIVE HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERY ONE!

[spoopybruh]

Taking Risks

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series) Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej Characters: Ryan Bergara, Shane Madej

Summary: Events were predictable, people are not. That’s why Shane’s fears usually center around the ever changing nature of others. The what ifs. Non-constants. He’s taken precautions in establishing a tolerance of sorts towards such kerfuffle but there will always be times he has to risk it for the biscuit. He takes a chance on one Ryan Bergara. 

They were in the middle of a long drive home when Shane decides to break the comfortable silence.

“So,” His tone is light despite the severity of his admission, hand gliding against the curve of the steering wheel to steady his stream of thoughts. He sees his companion lift his attention off the screen of his phone and stop tapping on what undoubtedly was another list of haunted locations they could get visiting permissions for. “I may or may not feel things differently than most people do.”

That understandably evokes an unimpressed sound from Ryan and a brief crinkling of his nose before he replies. “Yeah no shit, Sherlock. You were the one who laughed at public executions.”

“I didn’t laugh at the public executions, Ryan. They get breakfast at execution events! It’s like going to Disneyland and getting a little restaurant seat so they can watch a parade.” Even thinking about it draws chuckles from him. “How can people not find that hilarious?” Morbid for sure. But there’s still something funny about the whole juxtaposition of how things went back then. It’s easy to just drop the subject. To let the natural flow of their bantering continue in a way that leaves the insides of his chest light with contentment. And for a few moments, he’s tempted to do just so. Yet if he does, he’ll probably never speak of this again. “No. I mean…I don’t feel things when I should be.”

“What? Like being afraid of reasonable shit instead of someone randomly running up to you and injecting you with heroin?”

“Hey! It could happen! That’s a reasonable fear.” The tight band of anticipation eases with each chuckle that’s forced out of him. Shane turns a corner. Regroups. “No, it’s not that. I meant stuff like empathy.”

He feels, more than sees, Ryan’s eyebrows rise several notches. It’s three tense heartbeats later that his companion’s furiously racing mind finally finds enough coherence to spit a reply back at Shane.

“So…you’re saying that you’re someone who doesn’t…care about anyone or anything? Sorry I know this sounds bad and I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything but what are you getting at here?” Shane could see the grimace on Ryan’s face the moment he vocalises his words and he takes comfort in the fact that this is as equally awkward for him as it is for Shane. At the very least, Ryan’s not acting all freaked out. That would have been hurtful.

The lankier of the duo takes another deep breath to brace himself. “Well it’s not like I don’t feel anything.It’s just….harder. I don’t care about most things, especially if they don’t pertain to people in my own social circle and stuff like that. I just care about some things.” His gaze darts with purpose to rest on his companion for a few brief seconds before he turns his attention to the road again. “Some people. And I pretend to care about other things to be, you know, polite.”

That draws an ‘Oh’ out of Ryan. And if Shane looks just a little bit harder to see his expression under the dim lighting of the setting sun, he swears he could make out a ruddier colour staining the cheeks of his friend. But that’s something to read into for the future. Hopefully. It’s curious how it’s easier now once he forced his way through. Not the finding the right words part. Just the being able to continue part. Then again, that’s his problem. Finding the right words to things. “The thing I have. Makes it harder for me to find the right words to say or find the right things to do. Because I don’t process things the way other people do. I don’t feel shit the same way, I guess. Like- Like say maybe an animal died or something like that. I know that it’s probably a heartbreaking thing to people because they, you know, react in a certain way. And I try to uh. It’s like shitting for the bit. I take it as a cue and just kind of lay it out there, follow their example and carry it through. Without necessarily feeling the same emotion. Do I want the animal to die? No. I’m just not bummed out over it. But not everything’s as clear cut as that so it’s difficult for me to know how I’m supposed to react.”

Ryan’s inhale is sharp but Shane doesn’t turn to look at him. He has no way of anticipating the expression on his face and maybe that’s better that way. When Ryan speaks, it’s with a quiet wonder. As if everything somehow made sense now. “You do that. You take a while to come up with shit to say sometimes, I’ve seen your face when you try to phrase things carefully.

For the first time since the entire conversation, it’s Shane’s turn to be surprised. “I make faces for that? Is it obvious that I’m doing it?”

“No no!” He’s somewhat mollified at Ryan’s scrambling to assure him. “It’s not obvious. Only when it’s this close.” A hand bumps against his shoulder lightly when Ryan gestured to their proximity. “Only when people squint really hard and you know, I’ve had to look at your ugly face for far too often.”

A good to honest laugh slips from Shane at the good-natured ribbing. “You like my ugly face. You said faces like mine are attractive with the whole Cumberbatch story.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got a strange face.” They both fell silent yet again. Three bus stops were driven past before Ryan pipes up once more with another question. “So do you…do you think it’s some kind of uh.” Shane catches him gesticulating out of his peripheral vision. “Do you think it’s some kind of mental thing? Are you..god why is this is so difficult- are you, are you a sociopath or something? Does that make you one?”

His struggling has Shane snorting with amusement. Ryan’s struggling almost always does. This time round, he takes mercy on the both of them and decides to cooperate.

“That’s not the right term and too media cliche-y but I suppose it puts me somewhere on the spectrum. We’re not sure yet. My therapist and I- we’re figuring it out.”

Ryan seems to think that as a satisfactory answer because he nods and settled down once again, though Shane doesn’t have to be a mind reader to feel the cogs in his brain practically working on overtime to process the information he’d been given. “I don’t know what to say to that, man. That’s some heavy stuff. Uh…Thank you? For telling me that. You didn’t have to say it and all but I guess, thanks.”

“Wait, just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that. What else am I supposed to say? It’s strange to me, obviously. But you’ve always been strange. You made the whole stupid Hot dog thing for god’s sake. So this is odd but I’m not gonna judge you for it anymore than I judge your hot daga story. Unless you start killing people and shit. Which you’re not, are you?” The joke’s a morbid one and Ryan’s squinting his eyes at him for comical effect. It shouldn’t make him snort but it does. Shane rolled his eyes briefly at him in return.

“No, of course not. I mean I’ve thought about it. But who honestly can’t say they’ve never thought about running people over when they cut you off in traffic. Besides, you’ve threatened to kill me multiple times. Just because I’ve thought about it doesn’t mean I wanna do it. Everyone’s capable of doing stuff like that, with or without being on the spectrum.”

“Not a particularly comforting thought to mention when you’re currently the one driving but right, that’s fair.” They broke off into bouts of snickering again. Though the next question Ryan asked hits a little too close to home. “So. Have you uh…Have you hurt anyone because of this? Unintentionally or not.” The latter part is hastily added.

"Wow loaded question there.” His fingers twitched briefly. Shane releases a heavy breath. “No? At least not that I know of. Sometimes I don’t realise- wait fuck.” Frustration mars his features. It’d be easy to get away with it if he expressed that he isn’t aware he’d hurt people because he doesn’t mean to. It’d be easy to paint himself in a better light. A more acceptable one. It’d be easier if he pretended to feel some modicum of regret. But that would also defeat the entire purpose of this whole talk he started. This is Ryan. He’s not going to use that sort of information against him- he has no definite proof anyways. Ryan’s better than that. Better in ways Shane sometimes wishes he could emulate. He’s not the type of person to be an asshole like that.

“Sorry I’m….embellishing. Let me try again.” Another deep breath. He forces himself to relax his grip on the steering wheel. Since when did he tense up? “I have. Sometimes it’s unintentional. Sometimes…I have this impulse, you see? I don’t mean for it to be there but it just is. I have this impulse to do or say things just to see how people would react to them. Just to see how far I can push them before they…respond. Not because I want to hurt them, it’s just…I wanted to know what they’re like. How they think. How they feel. How they respond to things. I was curious.” His lips twisted into a grimace. “That impulse makes me inconsiderate sometimes and I’m working on it. I’ve been working on it for years.”

It’s just like what he does. Shutting Ryan in spooky places for longer on purpose. Pretending to sleep so he could watch him get gradually more and more frightened during the rare occasions they’d stay for a sleepover at whatever haunted location. Rationalise away everything when he gets too scared and persisting until he gets annoyed but never too much. He just wants to know, wants to see how far he can push the boundary without having Ryan experience a nervous breakdown. That’s just…how he is.

“I’m generally good at controlling that impulse. And doing our show…helps in a weird way.” Because he could give in to that impulse within limits instead of suppressing it. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t do things on purpose from time to time but….I don’t want to. Not with you. I’ll mess up once in a while though.”

That’s truthfully the only thing Shane could give as an answer. “I’m not saying that you’ve got to feel like you need to accept that or something. I’m just..it’s just gonna happen. Especially when I feel like I’m in trouble or someone does something exceptionally shitty.” He feels hollowed out for some reason. A kind of exhaustion that sinks into even his bones. Ryan doesn’t have to ask him but Shane knows that he’s probably wondering why. Why now? Why tell him?

“I just wanted to let you know.” That impulse. Again, that impulse. But he’s not lying when he said he wanted Ryan to know. “If there was anyone I wanted to know about this, besides my family and therapist, it’d be you.”

Now he’s done it. Thrown everything right there out in the open. Kicked the door off it’s hinges and yelled at spooky bois that are even spookier than the non-existent spooky bois they’re searching for. The ball is now in Ryan’s court.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have long to wait.“Yeah because I’m the only one who can handle your shit and dish it back to you. I’d be old and greying and I’d still kick your ass when you’re being a dick.” He feels the heat of Ryan’s palm before it descended against his shoulder in a slap. Except it stays there for a moment longer, closing in a firm squeeze.

The breathe caught in his throat eases in shaky sputters.

“Alright, so after we’ve gotten this ‘moment’ out of the way and we’ve established that I’ll still kick your ass regardless, can we at least stop by for food? I swear if I have to sit another hour longer waiting for this stupid traffic to hurry up, I’m going to lose my shit.”

Another snort of amusement escaped Shane. Typical Ryan. Quick to irritate and and straightforward, but also refreshingly capable of wading through everything in stride even if it’s out of his depth. This…this is okay. This is better than okay.

“Yeah I can do that.”

A pause.

“Sour Puss Bergara.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

Additional Note: This is a coping fic I’ve written to get some closure for myself and I’d like to thank the writers who placed in genuine effort to thoughtfully write about Shane with AS/PD. I personally am someone who’s on the spectrum and that’s not something I would ever be able to share with anyone in my own social circle. This is as close I’ll ever be able to get to acceptance. Now for the sake of accuracy and to avoid taking too much liberties, I’ll say that in this story, Shane’s on the spectrum like myself instead.

[itsfoolishjoker-blog]

Home Is Not Home Anymore (Maybe a part of a mini series? I dunno)

Akira didn’t want to leave his friends behind. Not after all they had been through, all the good and bad times they shared, and not after he finally felt like he fit.

His parents were certainly glad to see him, though he knew what the rest of his family and neighbors truly cared about.

“The Phantom Thief”.

Not even the house was safe from the questions. No sooner did Akira open the door when his cousins began asking about what a Phantom Thief was, what it was like, if it was cool breaking the law, and any other question that could even remotely be asked. His grandparents were less concerned about his exoneration and moreso loudly voicing their disappointment in him for even getting charged in the first place.

Just when he was wondering how he could excuse himself from this surprise party of questions and disappointment, he imagined how Ryuji would handle this exact situation.

“Eff off, he’s been through enough! More than any of you could ever understand. So if you’re going to get an attitude with anyone, I’m your guy. Bring it, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

All Akira could do is blink a couple times, dragging himself unwillingly out of the imaginary moment, and tried to lock eyes with either of his parents, wordlessly begging for some breathing room.

“I’m feeling nauseous thanks to that sandwich I got from the store on our way home. Can I go upstairs and lie down?”

Begrudgingly, his parents relented, and Akira did his best to appear nearly sick to his stomach, bolting for his room, all the while bringing his bag with him.

With a quick lock of the door, he sat at the edge of his bed, and tried to take some deep breaths. He didn’t know that he had been anxiously holding his breath, or hyperventilating as he booked it up the stairs. 

He looked over to the space to his right he’d always leave for...

That’s right, they were back in Tokyo. He was alone here.

The thought hung around him like a heavy necklace, pulling his head down to the point he only saw the floorboards and his legs and feet.

He figured he’d miss the mere presence of his friends, or knowing they’re only a short ride away, or perhaps the antics they could easily get up to, or even the familiarity of life over the past year. 

However, what hit him hardest was the utter silence. The noise of his family and neighbors gossiping was, at most, a quiet murmur that was more like an annoying buzzing than relaxing.

“I bet Yusuke would hate it here. It just gets quiet enough that you try to relax, but something loud always happens to break your peace of mi...”

On cue, his neighbor four houses down let out a shrill laugh, one he was glad to have left behind last year, and even less pleased to have to be stuck with on a weekly basis.

“This must be what it’s like for Haru when she has to go to board meetings.” Akira mused out loud, but quietly enough that no one could hear him.

Slowly but true to his nature, his mind slowly started shifting gears from excitement, anticipation, happiness and eagerness to a creeping sense of anxiety, apathy, depression, and the feeling his energy was left back at Leblanc.

“It’ll be good to come back to my friends” became “What friends? Your friends are back in Tokyo, not out here”, or “It’ll be nice to relax” turned into “I have nothing to do but be on my own.” or worst yet, “I’ll be okay” was now a resounding “I don’t care”. 

What didn’t he care about?

His parents? His extended family?

He already had heard some of the most devastating things to hear from parents or mentors, with such classics as “You are a disappointment”, “You deserve to be locked up”, “Are all your achievements a lie”, “You’re always screwing up”, “You’re a delinquent menace” and “You never do enough”, and no matter how much he tried to believe they had moved past that, that pain wasn’t going to evaporate.

The backfire of a nearby motorcycle made him imagine Makoto being there, looking at his down state.

“Akira, I know this hurts. I’ve been called similar nasty things by my sister...but you know what? She respects me now more than before, and we are doing our best to be better friends and family than we did before. If we can do that, in spite of everything, so can you and your parents. You’ve always had the gift of turning what others call a lost cause into something incredible.”

He decided he would just close the blinds and try to sleep this feeling off, though picturing his friends and what they’d do or their own experiences of similar situations did help him at least calm down enough to even attempt to fall asleep.

“You should get some rest.”

Picturing Morgana lecturing him was the last step he needed to sleep. Funny how the small things were the only things keeping him together.

Waking up early in the morning, Akira slowly and still mostly groggy stumbled down the stairs. He smelled the scent of coffee, and imagined Sojiro and Futaba waiting for him, with Futaba happily sharing her latest new manga craze with him. Still waking up, he imagined the sight of someone he never thought he, or anyone else would see once he could see into the kitchen:

Goro Akechi.

Clearly Akira wasn’t readjusting to life back home, and this only further unnerved him. The smell of freshly made pancakes and coffee being brewed were clearly the scents that tricked his mind into imagining Akechi sitting in the kitchen, looking more forlorn than he normally would with his favorite breakfast in front of him.

Akira was exhausted, and tired from the memories that all seemed so much sweeter now that he was gone, wordlessly ate.

“I’m sorry about yesterday Akira. I was hoping they would be happy to see you, not...”

Akira purposefully took a huge bite of the pancake to avoid talking, and waved his mother’s sentence off.

“Akira...Son, are you okay?”

Akira grabbed his bag and wordlessly walked out.

Frankly, he didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

His walk to school was a good fifteen minute walk, and while he could normally catch up on what he missed gossip wise, regardless if he wanted to hear it or not, today he couldn’t. The fog in his mind only got deeper as the fog crept in to the town, to the point that he felt what he knew he truly was here....Alone.

Here he was alone. And nothing was changing that.

“...Kurusu. Akira Kurusu! Don’t you have anything to say to the class now that you’re back?”

He didn’t know what Mr. Ishiyama was expecting, he didn’t know why his rude neighbor Yuki Hammura counted as family to his parents, nor did he know why his own parents cared all of a sudden that he existed.

He didn’t know why he cared either.

“No sir.” Akira mumbled, catching Mr. Ishiyama off guard.

“Well...you’ll be sitting in the fourth seat back, by the window there. Now, everyone, settle down, we aren’t an institution to only discuss one student’s life outside of town, so please, stop badgering him for answers. You’ll have an exam this Saturday regardless, so make your choice. Ask him endless questions, flunk your first exams, or listen, stop running your mouths, and pay attention!”

The class largely ignored Mr. Ishiyama, and Akira looked out the window, picturing his friends being in class themselves.

Then came the last one. The last Phantom Thief, one of the very few he had hoped wouldn’t haunt him so much, wouldn’t hurt so deeply in their absence as he was hurting, and the unending sense of brokenness that came with it.

Ann Takamaki.

She was the first person he had met from the group, and that moment began to replay in his mind. He fully immersed himself in the memory, letting his hand, ears and brain do all the note taking subconsciously.

He couldn’t look at the desk directly in front of him. If he didn’t, he could still pretend, still imagine, still hope against hope that she was there, that all of his friends were still there.

On sheer instinct, he looked forward, and the pain of that last hope being crushed felt worse than any weapon leveled at him in the cognitive world. It felt as if each vow, each unspoken pact was slowly being unwound, and each tiny fiber that once held it together was ripping his heart apart.

A quiet buzz from his phone gave him a little reprieve from the downslide, especially since it was his friends, all in a group text seeing how the first day was going for one another.

[TEXT] Makoto: Akira, how is your first day back at school going?

[TEXT] Ann: Ryuji’s already getting on his teacher’s nerves.

[TEXT] Ryuji: You know that’s not true!

[TEXT] Futaba: ...not the same. Hate it. 

[TEXT] Haru: My day is going well, but I hope your day is a pleasant one!

[TEXT] Yusuke: I believe we’re deviating from what this group text was being used for today.

[TEXT] Makoto: Yusuke’s right, we were all wondering how your day is going!

Akira had a thousand ideas, ranging from being honest and depressing all of them immensely, all they way up to lying right through his fingertips.

Against any good judgement, he lied, and lied so intensely that he had to pause and focus on classwork to try and distance himself from it.

[TEXT] Akira: I’m doing really well. Being back in town and back to school is easier this time around.

He slowly pushed the text out of his mind, his eyes glazing over in apathy and pain, increasingly  losing even his sub-conscious focus on the material. The sounds of people whispering rumors, Mr. Ishiyama lecturing, the air conditioning, the way desks and chairs creaked and groaned, all of it was lost in this mental fog.

Just as the second break was ending, and course work resumed, Akira felt his phone buzz once. He caught a peak at it and spotted Ann’s icon with one message. He could only do his best not to crack, not to let on how anxious he was, how alone he felt, how much it all hurt, how it felt like he had just left the best people he’d ever have in his life behind, that he had cut himself out of a life he had made with them...

[TEXT] Ann: ...Liar. I know you too well to not know when you’re putting on a front to keep us happy and not make us worry. I miss you Akira, and I know that you’re hurting.

Before he could even begin to handle that text, a message from Makoto followed immediately after he read Ann’s.

[TEXT[ Makoto: You don’t have to be brave for us Akira. We all miss you. I...miss you quite a lot. 

He didn’t know what to say, or what to do. Frankly he wanted to grab his things and run away, run back to the friends, no, the family he had made, the people that loved him through some of the biggest tragedies, failures, and losses. He knew he’d never make friends quite like his friends from the past year.

 He missed them. He...

He needed them. He knew, always knew, deep down that they had saved one more person than they may have realized.

They had saved him.

And he knew now he couldn’t go from such a strong support system, to nothing. Not like this. 

There had to be a better way.