#and then my coworker intervened but from far and it was a little scary i was def paranoid.

[woahajimes]

why am i crying outside the donut shop

[cannibal-nightmares]

did you know may is mental health awareness month?

text under the read more: an unreality ramble about my dog. he is a good boy.

have a peaceful song -

where do I even begin

I guess I'll start with that I don't like talking about my delusions. there's some I want to talk about but can't because they're either scary and/or too confusing in that theyre too real. or im "not allowed" to. but this one exists in a neutral space, so a neutral story this will be

I only got him when he was 1½ years old and he was kenneled at the shelter w another dog identical to him, but if he wasn't someone's service/emotional support animal, then he must have been in a past life. or he has a human consciousness. or something. my friends joke about the latter often but I'll get there in a second. the way he responds to my emotions and actions is uncanny. he is a rather quiet dog, but if he notices me freeze up and go quiet to an uncharacteristic degree, he will very blatantly try to get my attention. if I lie on the floor from anxiety, he will lie on my legs; if I lie on the floor in being depressed, he will get in my face. he's intervened self harm (namely hitting, but, if he's alert, he's interrupted trichotillomania episodes). The thing is, idk where he gets it from. I didn't train him to do any of these things

my friends joke that's he's "just a dude." "a man in a dog's body" etc. it *is* a funny joke. he likes people more than other dogs; his eye contact is oddly human-like (ask my friends). it *is* a funny joke, and the following isn't directly related, but I do have great fears about him. some of which the noise isn't going to let me say outloud here but. what I can: sometimes I fear it's true--an organic thought outside of what my friends have said, the two ideas don't feel the same--or perhaps that he was someone in a past life. or is a positive-neutral force sent to look after me. idk. it's hard to explain why while it would be/is theoretically positive, how it is still unnerving. and how it feels like something will change in one direction or another when I post this. I digress. He's just a guy. I have bigger fears on it, but that's the simple of it.

A coworker asked and suggested why I don't get a service dog. at first, I considered the question as courteous, but then realized... I struggle to walk my current dog, if I am honest. I do it, I take him out every day, etc, but as much as I got a dog to help me w paranoia, it has not curbed it. in ways, in ways, it has made it worse. countless of times I have tried to walk him around the block, made it halfway, and turned around due to feeling like a force was watching me, like something was waiting around the corner, like there were traps ahead, and many other more specific and pertinent things I am not allowed to say here (plus it'd be safer if I didnt). taking him outside is like flipping on a geiger counter to gauge the state of the day. I feel really bad for him in this. I can't imagine trying to get a proper service animal in these regards.

My friends like to joke that he's some sort of bending entity in that he's just shaped funny. I mean, he is. His legs are goofy-long, his nose is angled funny off of his snout, his ears are huge. Etc. But--again, separate from what they've said--sometimes I look at him and he doesn't feel real. It's difficult to explain. I look at him and it's like I'm missing something. Like how you can't reach into a tv and grab what's on the screen. idk.

The reason I'm saying all of this is because... As much as I am sometimes scared he isn't real to some degree, I consider that, even if he isn't, I think he's worth "wasting time" on. I love him, he's a good little guy, and so far, at least, everyone is pretending along. Sometimes I pick him up and feel like a question mark is above my head hahaha. Like I'm missing something. But he's worth my time. He's worth my time in the same way daydreaming can be fun. I don't know how to fckng word this. He is good. Real or not, he is good. I can't imagine trying to "prove" his "realness," and I also don't know how. I don't mind devoting time to him, real or not, because he is good. agh. I hope this makes sense. I've been sitting on these thoughts for at least three years now.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Can I just be whelmed? // J x Rosie x Pat // personalised comfort.

But I’d just like comfort from J and Pat bc of this week. From my manager doing what he did, to another coworker potentially having Covid, to my sleep deprivation, lack of appetite, my period is starting, ugh the list goes on😂 I just really would like something sweet with both of them bc all of this is just...too much and it’s slowly taking away my ability to want to keep going. @loveletterstoledger​

A/N: I hope that you enjoy this, my love!!!💗 You’re so strong and so brave and I’m so, so proud of you. I’m so sorry for everything that you’re going through and I truly hope that things improve for you soon, angel. Sending you hugs!🥰💗

Word count: 1, 726.

Bianca Stratford had once asked you that, if you could be respectively over or underwhelmed, could you ever just be whelmed? You hadn’t known at the time, though you had suspected not, being a bit more advanced in linguistics than she was, but right now did simply being whelmed sound really good to you, for everything was just... too much. There was so much that was going on, there was so much that was happening to you or to those around you, that it was dizzying to even try to list out everything which was occurring all at the same time. 

You didn’t even want to think about what had happened with your manager most recently. That had really unsettled you. You kept your relationship with Patrick and J as private as you could, out of respect for the first man and to protect the chaotic clown whom you called your home, and you knew that you were only interested in the two of them. There could never be anyone else for you. Hell, you didn’t want for there to be anyone else. You had everything you had ever wanted or needed in your two men, and that was that. There was also health risks at your workplace which were scary and terrifying in the worst of ways, your sleep schedule had been knocked way off kilter, as had your appetite... no doubt as a result of the daily stressors which relentlessly plagued you each day. And, to top it all off...

... Your period was going to start soon.

To put it simply, you were tired and you just didn’t want to even exist for a time. You wanted to just put on some Taylor Swift, or maybe some Queen, close your eyes and... go to sleep. You were done and you had had enough. Hour by hour, day by day, was your resolve to keep going, to keep working, chipped away by your harsh reality. It was relentless and it seemed like it would never end. That was all you wanted; reprieve. A break from your life. You just wanted everything to stop for just five minutes so that you could stop and breathe and re-centre.

Pat and J were both observant men. They saw much and spoke little, unless they were tearing someone to shreds with their silver tongues which could cut like the blades J favoured. As such, they had been watching your slow decline into an almost inability to function. You felt like a shell of the woman you knew yourself to be; a beautiful and strong woman who knew what and who she wanted. You felt like you were slowly crumbling, like water which eroded at the slowly receding surface of a cliff...

Pat and J both disagreed with you, but equally so were they both worried about you and your mental state. They intervened only when you skipped the second meal of the day. You were eating so little and the less you ate, the worse you physically and mentally felt. Additionally, your sleeping was being affected and the more physically tired you were, the faster your mental state declined, and on did the vicious cycle continue. You couldn’t break yourself out of it, so far gone down the road were you, so it was up to your koala and your clown to light your way back to who you still were, even now, when it seemed like the whole world was against you.

Finally on this night did you come home from work. You were on edge, so scared were you about contracting the virus which was globally making the rounds and ravaging the population in the worst way, and desperate for a shower. You headed there straight away, dumping your bag and outer layers down by the doorstep for disinfection, which you would do later on. For right now, you wanted to be clean so that you could encase yourself in charcoal grey and in royal purple respectively. You were in your house but you weren’t home until such a thing occurred, and you rushed through your shower, thoughts of going home making you want to cry with soul deep yearning which would only be alleviated by the very thoughts which kept you company coming into your cruel and callous, positively frightening reality.

When you came out of the shower, finally clean, though by no means safe from the physical risks which you had no choice but to surround yourself with, J had disinfected everything and all you had to do was to relax. You needed the money which you earned almost every day, even though J had said on multiple occasions that he could and would provide for you if only you asked him to. It was something you would never ask of him, though. You prided yourself on making an honest living, and besides... you were an independent woman who was wise and mature in her decision making and you were the type of person to make back up plans even before you needed them. You couldn’t ever ask for anyone to provide for you when, even with such risks involved, you could provide for yourself. You worried constantly that either of your men would leave you one day, or maybe even both of them would get sick of you... so you would need money saved up for another place if that happened... when that happened, whispered your mind, though you shushed that voice up quickly whenever it surfaced. You didn’t want to know, you always told yourself. You just didn’t.

“Are you okay, strawberry?” Pat walked into the living room, where you were stood with a glazed look over your beautiful eyes, holding a bowl of tomato soup which was precariously balanced on a plate which contained a grilled cheese. It was your go-to comfort meal, the same with Pat, and you felt yourself smile. You really smiled, though your gut churned with the lack of appetite; you felt sick because you were so hungry and that only made you want to not eat... so then you grew hungrier, you felt weaker and sicker... and on did the cycle go. It was just one more thing which Pat and J would help you to break out of. The cheese was safe for you to eat, and there was no dairy in the soup, either. You wouldn’t be made to be sick from this meal, so well did your men take care of you.

You sighed. “Yeah. I’m all right.”

J grunted quietly from his position on the sofa, his pinstriped clad legs stretched out and rossed at the ankles; his feet up on the coffee table. The clown quite clearly disagreed with you, but he didn’t push you.

Neither did Pat, who merely frowned and approached you easily. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and handed you the plate in the same movement so that you were entirely surrounded by Pat’s warmth and by the heat of the soup and the quickly cooling grilled cheese. “You’re not fine,” Pat sighed in sympathy, and his fingers flexed upon the slope of your shoulders. “Come on, come sit with me and grumpy over there,” he flashed J a teasing smile, “we can eat together.”

You sighed and your stomach churned once more. You hoped you weren’t getting sick. It did sound good, though, and as always would you did you follow Pat over to the plush sofa. Your blanket, the one which you shared with Pat, was slung carelessly over the back, and you took your place in between Pat and J. You were sat so close together that your shoulders were pressed against each of theirs. You were truly surrounded by love in this moment, and it was everything you hadn’t known you needed until the precise moment that you did.

“Ya’ know...” J waited until you took a very small bite of your grilled cheese to speak. By his thinking, if your mouth was full, you couldn’t - wouldn’t - interrupt him. “y’re really strong, sweets. Braver than ya’ know.” He felt your eyes on him even as you chewed thoughtfully so he elaborated his point to save you from having to ask him. “You said no to your man-ag-er... you go to work even with the risks to ya’ health, to us, doll... even now, feelin’ sick and still eatin’, hm? Y’re more than ya’ know. Proud o’ya, little one.”

Tears stung at your eyes and they fell without your conscious decision to allow them to do so. Pat cooed from beside you and the calloused, blackened pads of his thumbs, for he had been working in the garage this day and car grease so stained skin no matter how hard one tried, wiped away the tears which fell. “You couldn’t ever disappoint me, marshmallow. Or our soldier. We love you.” Tender kisses were pressed to the side of your cheeks, to your temple, to your neck... as your throat convulsed with each unsure swallow, your gut and stomach churning alike but you knew, somewhere in the back of your head, that nothing was going to happen to you, Pat rewarded you with a kiss. His lips were soft and warm, just like him, and J, unsatisfied with how he wasn’t doing anything, pressed a sloppy kiss to the top of your head.

“What the kid said.” J nodded to himself, as if he had just realised something, and then he said, “We got’cha, my thorn. I’m a man of my word.”

It was a reminder. A promise. 

A vow.

“Thank you for loving me.” Your quiet whisper, your tears which fell like rain, your pounding heart. The feeling of Pat’s lips upon your skin, the ghostly imprint of J’s against the crown of your head. The warmth of their bodies pressed up against yours. The satisfying weight of food in your stomach. The promise of love which had always been and would always be yours... you weren’t okay and you likely wouldn’t be for quite some time, but you had all of these things and more. You had yourself, too, and on the days like today when you quite lost track of your own self, Pat and J were there with already outstretched hands, understanding and with love... always, always...

Love.

[hi-itsminaya]

Potters have a thing for Gingers

In which Minerva McGonagall witnesses three generations worth of Potters and manages to stay sane.

Read on AO3

1955

“MIA! Your husband is back! Tell him to go away, I’m trying to work!” Minerva McGonagall shouted to her coworker, Euphemia Potter. The smile that broke out on the ginger woman's face was blinding as she ran up in her husband's waiting arms.

“Monty!”

“Mia, my love!”

As the two embraced Minerva turned her head to give them a little more privacy, she knew Euphemia missed her husband dearly while he was away, whether it be an Auror mission or a simple marketing trip for his newest potion.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be back so early! I thought I would only get to see you again next week!!” Euphemia took her husband face in her hands, running her thumbs under his eyes and pressing a kiss to lips.

“I wanted to surprise you!” Fleamont mumbled and went for another kiss until Minerva gave an uncomfortable cough behind them.

“Oh! Sorry Minnie!” Euphemia said, looking back to where Minerva was managing the paperwork floating through. “Oh put that down Minnie you deserve a bit of a break! Goodness you’ve been working none stop all week!”

“Well someone has to do it!” Minerva exclaimed as she continued to file through all the letters and reports “And you seem a bit… preoccupied”.

A light blush took upon Euphemia's cheeks just before Fleamont smacked a great big kiss on her cheeks causing her to let out a fit of giggles. Years worth of marriage only ever strengthen the love they felt for each other and they couldn't be more grateful.

“Lovely” Minerva rolled her eyes, knowing all too well that Fleamont just stole her coworker's attention for the rest of the day.

“Oh come on Minnie don’t be like that!” Fleamont chuckled, mischievous cleary lacing his voice. “I know deep down you missed me as well!”

“I thought I already told you, only Euphemia has my permission to call me such a childish nickname!” Minerva whirled around to look at the older man who was grinning like a teenage boy, happily holding his wife in his arms. “And for Merlin’s sake you two, this is a work zone! You two aren’t sixteen anymore!”

“We like to pretend we still are, isn't that right Mia?” He shot Euphemia a wink.

“Heavens Fleamont! Not here!” As much as she wanted to scowl him she couldn't help but laugh as her face went beet red.

“You two are impossible!” Minnie huffed, organising the last of the Auror Report and sending them off to the minister. “Absolutely impossible!”

“Oh come on now Minnie! You love us-” Fleamont started but was cut off when a big brown owl swooped into the room and landed right on his head sending Euphemia into another fit of laughter. It was holding a letter addressed to Minerva in its beak and Euphemia took the letter and handed the owl a treat before it was off again leaving Fleamont to dust off it’s remaining feathers.

“Minnie!! It’s from Hogwarts!!” Euphemia said excitedly, handing the letter to her friend.

“What! Really!” Minerva snatched the letter out of her hands. She ripped the seal and quickly began reading.

“Dear Miss McGonagall... “ She continued to read mumbling to herself as Fleamont and Euphemia stood next to her waiting for her to finish. They both knew the young witch had applied to Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardly for the transfiguration Professor position since Armando Dippet was no longer able to withhold both Transfiguration Prof. And Headmaster at the same time.

“... pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as the new Transfiguration Professor!!!” Minerva was shouting by the end, her voice filled with so much joy and excitement.

“YES!! We knew you could do it Minnie!!” Euphemia attacked her friend in a great bear hug. Minerva, who had long since learned Mia’a hugging tendencies, embraced her back with just as much force. She lifted her head just in time to see Fleamont poke his head out the door and shout.

“OI EVERYONE! MINNIE GOT THE JOB! SHE’S GOING BACK TO HOGWARTS!!” ---- 1960 Minerva McGonagall ran down the hall of St-Mungos as fast as she could, trying to reach the appointed room the medi-witch pointed her too. She dodged trolleys of potions and sick patients walking the halls, yelling a quick ‘sorry’ here and there until she finally arrived at the door to the room she was looking for and burst through.

“I’M HERE!!! I’m here! I’m sorry I’m- Oh my goodness”

Minerva was left speechless when she saw Euphemia Potter lying in the hospital bed holding a small little bundle wrapped in a blanket with Fleamont Potter sitting next to her, neither doing anything to stop the flow of tears streaming down their cheeks. Minerva slowly walked up to the couple, just enough to see a messy tuff of raven black hair poke out from the blanket.

“Minnie”

Minerva looked slowly raised her eyes off the small boy and met Euphemia’s. The poor dear looked absolutely exhausted yet as always she was smiling the most beautiful smile.

“Meet James Fleamont Potter.”

“Futur troublemaker and creator of all mischief!!”

“Monty!” Euphemia lightly swatted her husband on the shoulder but couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can I hold him?” Minerva asked quietly.

Fleamont gently took the baby from Euphemia and handed him to Minevra and just as he placed him in her arms he let out a little sneeze causing her heart to melt even more.

“Oh my goodness, he’s so precious.”

“I think that’s the closest shes ever come to complimenting me” Fleamont joked, sending Mia in a fit of giggles. As easy as it was to please Euphemia, only her husband could ever make her laugh so much.

“We both know I was talking about your son, Fleamont” Minerva knew better than to participate in his childish games but, and she would never admit this out loud, she did find his jokes rather funny at times.

“Just look at him! He’s the exact carbon copy of me!” It was true, little James was barely two hours old and it was perfectly clear that he would look like his father’s clone. What with the entire tuff of raven hair already on his head, not a strand of his mothers ginger hair in sight.

“Merlin let this child be more like Euphemia then you!” Minerva let out exasperated.

“I hope so too! I didn’t spend nine months baking him only to make a second Monty! Merlin knows we only need one to drive us crazy” Euphemia teased lightly, pressing a kiss to her husband's cheek. Fleamont wrapped an arm around her and held her close to him. Merlin did he ever love this woman, he loved her with everything he had.

“Mia, look, look at his eyes” Minnies gasped, handing the baby back to his mother.

“They’re-” Fleamont started.

“Hazel…! “ Mia quietly whispered for her husband, marvelling at the two multicoloured orbs that were curiously staring up at her. It was the first time little James opened his eyes wide enough for the world to see they’re colour and Mia marvelled at the pair of them. “Monty… his eyes! They’re hazel!”

“Just as beautiful as yours, my love” He said quietly, pressing a kiss on her lips and then another on little James’ head.

McGonagall looked at the new little family and couldn’t help but smile. The couple who had long wished for a child finally got what they deserved; the most beautiful, healthy baby boy. Minnie could practically see the love they had for each other radiating off the couple and they’re newborn in waves.

______________________ 1977

Minerva McGonagall sat in the stand for the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw match, watching happily as James Potter scored yet another goal for the Gryffindor team. If she thought he looked like his father as a toddler, that was nothing compared to right now. He was the exact carbon copy of his father, personality and all. The sense of mischief and adventure ran through his veins but he had the mother hen nature of his mum as well as her eyes. James Fleamont Potter could not have been a more perfect combination of Fleamont and Euphemia.

“AND GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!!”

Minerva was snapped out of her thoughts by the hundreds of cheers coming from the stands, watching as the entire Gryffindor house spreads into the Quidditch pitch congratulation their players. Her eyes cough one particular ginger girl who was running up at full speed into the arms of waiting boyfriend. The couple looked so similar to Fleamont and Euphemia that Minnie had to look at the two a second time to make sure it wasn’t them. She laughed internally at the irony, Merlin, Potter’s surely had a thing for gingers.

As Minerva got up from the stand to make her way down to the pitch, her mind was racing with memories from her time with Mia and Monty. It was scary how much Lily and James resemble the older couple.

“James you were spectacular!!” Lily smiled up at him

“Well, obviously it was because I had my lucky charm cheering for me!” James winked at Lily, picked her up and spun her around. Lily let out a fit of giggles that sounded so similar to Euphemia, Minevra stopped dead in her tracks to compose herself.

“Oi! Lily! Stop hogging our captain!” Sirius Black yelled and attacked James in a great bear hug causing Lily to let go of him in a yelp.

“Sirius!!”

But Lily’s protest was cut short when Remus joined in the group hug as well and then Peter, then the whole thing just ended in a dog pile on the floor but none the less everyone found it hilarious.

When the rest of the Quidditch team joined in on the dog pile, McGonagall felt she had to intervene before the team ended up accidentally killing their captain.

“Alright! That’s enough! Up you get, all of you!” She waved her wand, gently lifting all the students off of the Marauders who were still lying on the ground laughing.

“Up you get Potter!”

“Aww Come on Minnie! We were just having a bit of fun!” The grin on his face was something Minerva was far too familiar with.

“Just because you won the Quidditch Cup doesn’t mean I won’t give you detention if you continue to call me such childish nicknames!”

The boy simply laughed knowing all too well she would never do such a thing considering he’s been calling her Minnie since he was a kid.

When he did eventually get up, the Quidditch cup was presented to the Gryffindor team and the Gryffindor house had never cheered louder, screaming with joy and pride for their team. McGonagall couldn’ help but smile, she felt an overwhelming feeling of joy flood through her both for her little Gryffindors and for the boy she considered her nephew. He had grown so much the past year and she could not be more proud of him. Granted she would never say such a thing out loud, a compliment like that would go straight to his head!

When the cup was handed to James he lifted it up in the hair causing everyone to scream even louder, then he handed it off to Sirius and gave Lily all of his attention, snogging her like there was no tomorrow.

“Merlin you two! This is a school zone, not your personal broom closet!”

“Sorry professor!!” ---- 1980 Minerva McGonagall was running down the hall of St-Mungos for the second time for similar reasons, she just received Owl that Lily Potter (née Evans) had given birth and she hated herself for missing it. She knew James would have wanted her to be there since his parents… couldn’t.

When she finally arrived at the correct room she gently knocked on the door and head a soft ‘come in’.

Minnie opened the door and stopped. For a moment, just one moment, she saw Euphemia and Fleamont Potter cuddling there newborn and she couldn’t stop the tear building in her eyes. She missed her friends dearly and would do practically anything to have them here to see their own child becoming a father.

After blinking a few times and wiping the tears that escaped her eyelids, she walked into the room and saw a very tired Lily giggling at her husband who was in an absolute daze holding his baby.

Lily looked up at her and smiled “Hello Professor” she whispered gently, “We’d like you to meet someone”

Minnie couldn’t take it, Lily Potter was simply too similar to Euphemia for her heart not to shatter into a million pieces. She tried desperately to compose herself but couldn’t control the flood of tears.

“Meet Harry James Potter”

James got up from where he was sitting next to Lily and slowly walked over to the woman his considered his Aunt, gently placing his son in her arms. McGonagall didn’t say a word, just stood there holding little James- No - little Harry in her arms and watched as James went to sit back down next to Lily, holding her tightly in his arms and whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

Bloody hell, she thought.

“Heavens, he’s perfect Lily, absolutely perfect” She told Lily who was smiling such a bright and blinding smile up at her.

“Thank you” Lily replied gratefully. “He was barely born an hour ago and you can already tell he’s the carbon copy of James”

“Our own mini Marauder!” James said proudly.

“Merlin forbid he turns out to be like you, James!” Lily teased lightly and Minerva thought faith wasn’t sure whether faith was being horribly cruel or terribly kind to her. Terribly cruel for creating to people so similar to her best friends, or terribly kind for letting her know hat they are indeed still with her.

As she continued to gently sway little Harry from side to side, the baby gave out a small coo and opened his eyes nice and wide for the world to see their colour.

“Oh Merlin…”

“What? What’s wrong?”

McGonagall handed the baby back to his parents and watched them marvel at the two emeralds starting up at them.

“His eyes! They’re green!” Lily was relieved to know her son had at least inherited something from her!

“As beautiful as emeralds, just like yours my love” James whispered, looking at Lily. The couple sat silently marvelling at the new little creation and Minevra quietly sat down in a chair, enjoying the peaceful silence until Sirius Black burst through the door with Remus and Peter following.

“We couldn't find Minnie! Merlin what’s taking so long for her to get her- Oh! Hello Minnie!! Did you see my new godson! Isn’t he great! Sirius rambled on.

As Sirius continues to chatters as Minnie greeted Remus and Peter who happily sat next to her. She notices the bags under all their eyes and couldn’t stop the overwhelming black hole she feels in her stomach. These kids were 19 and yet two of them were married and had a child and they were all fighting a war. A war no children should be fighting and challenges no nineteen year old should ever have to face. 

______________________ 2000

Minerva sat in the front row seat of the church, right before the altar. She watched as Harry Potter nervously wiped off the sweat on his forehead with a cloth that his best man, Ron Weasley, gave to him. She couldn't help but chuckle at the young man’s nervousness, his father had been the exact same at his wedding.

She let out a heavy sigh, this was a happy day filled with love and positive moments, this wasn't the day to be mourning the death of a couple to young to die, but instead to celebrate the union of one. Still, the heaviness in Minevra heart stayed as she watched Ginny Weasley walk down the aisle. As Ginny walked past her and Minnie could no longer see her face, she taught for a brief moment how much this young woman looked like Lily.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today…”

As the wedding continued, Minnie’s mind kept wandering back to James and Lily’s wedding, one she had also attended and couldn’t help but let out a little sob. Life was horribly unfair. Euphemia and Fleamont died just when James needed them the most, instead, leaving him to figure out how to be a father and survive a war all on his own. Then faith had to be even crueller and steal James and Lily from their son, their one-year-old baby forcing Harry to grow up in the most loveless and despicable house Minerva had ever seen. Yet despite all the horrible events from both wars, life carried on and now she got to witness the lastest Potter marry his own Ginger.

“Here” Molly Weasley said next to her, handing her a tissue “There is no shame in crying during a wedding”

“He’s grown so much, both of them have”

“Indeed” Molly agreed, her voice quivering. Her little baby girl was getting married. Molly never thought she would ever feel happiness after the death of her son yet here she was, smiling with absolute joy as she watched her little Ginny marry the man she loved. “They’re perfect for each other”

After a quick moment of silence between the two, Minnie let out a breath.

“They look so much like James and Lily…”

Molly looked up at McGonagall and saw that the older woman had tears in her eyes, a mixture of grief and happiness that burned her pupils. Molly took the elder woman’s hand in her’s and gave a light squeeze, a small action that meant the world the Minerva.

When the wedding came to an end and both Harry and Ginny said their “I do”, they sealed their marriage with a kiss and ran down the aisle with the crowd cheering around them. Hermione, Ron, Neville and Luna cheering louder than all the other guest. 

---- 2005

Minerva McGonagall sat in the waiting room of St-Mungos accompanied by the entire Weasley clan. They were all impatiently waiting for the arrival of Harry and Ginny’s first baby and they were all getting a little antsy.

“What if something’s wrong with the baby!! Or what if something goes horribly wrong!-”

“Molly dear, please, calm down. Everything will be fine. I’m sure the healer will be out any second now”

Right he was, mear seconds later the healer exited the room Harry and Ginny were currently in, giving them the ‘okay’ to enter. Of course, Molly was the first one to push herself through the door followed by her husband and the rest of their kids.

Minerva laughed as she slowly got up from her chair and made her way through the door. Molly was already holding the newborn, swaying him gently as he grabbed onto her finger with Arthur looking over her shoulder cooing at the baby.

“He’s perfect Gin-Gin, absolutely perfect” Molly whispered quietly as to not wake up the sleeping infant.

“Thanks, mum” Ginny replied tiredly, she was leaning against Harry's shoulder half asleep while Harry ran his finger through her hair, giving her a nice scalp massage and a kiss on her forehead.

“That’s our boy” He whispered gently in her ear causing the Ginny to smile.

“Could I hold him next, Harry?” Hermione Weasley (née Granger) asked.

“Oh me next!”

“No me!”

Eventually, everyone got around to holding the little boy, all giving their congratulations to the parents until it was finally Minnie’s turn to hold him.

“What are you going to name him?” Molly asked her daughter who was half asleep on her husband’s shoulder.

“Harry? You want to tell them?” Ginny tiredly asked, not having the energy for anything else.

Harry got up from his spot next to Ginny and took the baby from where he was sleeping in Molly’s arms, then he walked over to McGonagall and gently placed him in her arms.

“Professor, meet James Sirius Potter”

And just as he spoke those words, little James Sirius opened his eyes for the world to see and two teasing, mischievous hazel eyes sparkled up at Minerva, taunting her.

Minerva let out a half sob half laugh at the irony “Hello there James Sirius” to which the baby cooed back up at her all too knowingly.

As she handed the baby back to his father, she watched as Harry sat back down next to Ginny who immediately cuddled into his side and admired their new little boy. She thought about all the challenges and hardship both faced in the past years and was proud at what both had accomplished.

As she left the room an hour later claiming she had headmistress duties that needed he attention, she smiled, laughing while walking down the hall to the floo network.

‘Merlin’ she thought ’Potters certainly has a thing for gingers’

THE END!

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

Thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed!

[whattheklance]

Wecavod 4

wecavod= “What Else Could a Virgin Omega Do?”

So this is probably the most chaotic of chunks of information from my original notes.

I have the original timeline that I was never sure about and glad changed to what realfakedoors and me came up with, but here’s what was floating around in my notes long before that.

There’s also some chunks of dialogue related to some of the bullet points, or some summaries of scenes and scenarios. It’s all kind of a jumble, but if you’d like to read it, here it is.

Original “Timeline”

Lance decides to try speed dating. mixture of bored and creeped out interactions (this happening only after he tried and failed to see keith again cuz keith is popular)

Keith learns Lance speed dating news from a coworker (see a brief dialogue thing I have below this list)

Possibly keith at work more?? ruing his new popularity. or maybe a keith dream about lance? (this one might not be necessary at all. just an idea if more angst is needed or to build suspense)

Lance assertive flirting at a club leads to being stalked by a scary alpha.

Keith enraged at finding out about lance’s plight from coworker

Lance catches Keith talking w/ shiro but can't hear anything. Makes a lot of assumptions

Keith & shiro? + matt conversation?? Maybe Keith is talking to them about lance? Maybe he's keeping everything about lance to himself but is spitballing ideas of changing his "career path"

matt/shiro wedding. lance and keith were invited separately. possibly use this location & event for confession of feelings, but with a lot of awkward and shy stuff leading up to it.

if the wedding is where they get together then next would be the hottest steamiest night between them afterward. a long time coming (pun intended). cuz they know they love each other. Or possible deliberately postpone this and give them some absurdly innocent and/or awkward interactions before they finally have their first night "together."

(END OF TIMELINE)

SMALL BITS OF WRITTEN DIALOGUE

/////////////////////////////

Keith is told by a coworker that they saw Lance at speed dating.

Keith: "What are YOU doing dating?" (author's note: as employees at the brothel it's in their contract that they can't be casual dating for health/safety reasons.)

Coworker: "Moral support"

yaddayaddayaddda. They talk some more. Keith doesn't care about small talk. He's in his own head until...

Coworker: "I could still smell you on him."

Keith felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. He couldn't breath. Lingering scent post-knotting was normal for a few days. But it'd been over a month. His heart tightened as his brain struggled to assign meaning to that new piece of information.

Confusion.

Keith's hopes are up but he still dares not believe.

////////////////////////////////////

The "Stalking" idea

Lance tries to be "loose" in reaction to his extreme attachment to Keith, and decides to respond to getting hit on at a club to get a date or one night stand.

maybe lance was starting to smell "in heat" even before he feels it so the alpha gets aggressive. Follows Lance out of the club, harassing him.

Not wanting to lead the guy home he took a detour. unsure of what to do or where he was going. He ended up walking by the brothel's entrance

TWO IDEAS about this scene -lance could seek asylum there to escape his stalker OR -2 or 3 alphas inside the brothel could hear/smell what was going on outside and they come out to intervene. Lance asks them about Keith and they tell him just that–he's booked.

Dialogue after Lance is long gone and Keith is between clients

Keith: "Why do you smell like him???"

Guy (rolo?): "Who?"

K: "You know DAMN WELL who. Everybody does."

G: "Chill, man. He was only here for a bit."

Keith's mind raced. a glimpse of hope. Was Lance scheduling a new appointment? Had he stopped by to try to see Keith?

G: "(continued) An Alpha was stalking him so we helped him out. Poor dude didn't know we could already smell the preheat on him."

Lance had been in fucking danger and Keith wasn't the one to help him. He didn't even know. Damn, he would've settled with just being in the same room with him even if it meant seeing him if only for a second. He never hated his life before, but that was the only way to describe this sickening feeling.

Keith hated that lance was HERE and he didn't get to see him. He hated that he couldn't be the one to help him, protect him. More than all that he hated himself that he was in here...doing his job, fucking another nobody.

G: "You need to get your Alpha-self in order. You can't go claiming or dibs on clients. Who says he even wants to see you again?"

hearing someone tell him the precise words keith feared the most sent him almost feral, shoving his coworker so hard he hit the tile and slide across it.

/////////////////////////////

Lance catching Shiro and Keith talking together somewhere

possibly have lance catch the two of them from a distance and be able to suspect that they had a history

Seeing familiar signs from Keith with the added pain that Shiro could touch him nonchalantly and Keith not only didn't flinch, he seemed comforted.

Between that and a certain fondness in Shiro eyes that's similar to the way he looks at Matt

Lance gets juvenile ideas about "omg does Matt know?? Only to see Matt join them later and nothing about either Shiro or Keith's body language changes

They weren't hiding anything from matt. He'd have been shocked if Shiro had, but of course that guy was true.

Whatever Shiro and Keith were talking about Matt was in the know. Both were equally contributing to the conversation with Keith

Why did his mind immediately jump to intimate things between them?? They're both alphas. But thinking on it lance realized that Shiro had an alpha girlfriend in high school and as far as he knew it, the only people before Matt that Shiro had ever been with had been alphas.

Course he never knew anything about Shiro's sex life, even though high school him would've given his right arm to learn even one detail.

(Possible) Keith side of the same scene (or maybe just some in general characterization to include throughout)

Keith depression? He has a contract with the brothel and has never worked anywhere else. He dropped out of school so he doesn't even have a diploma.

He can't even think about going after Lance until sex isn't his job. It has to be Lance and no one else. He wouldn't be able to stand seeing Lance's face if he had to go to work.

Shiro and Matt offered advice in regards to what he could do if/when he got out

But he didn't want to risk his good livelihood cuz he doesn't even know if lance would accept him. He doesn't want to pursue lance while this is his job, but he doesn't want to sacrifice his job without knowing if he has a chance with lance. what to do.

If the above scene happens before the wedding: Lance having already had the surprise seeing them together, and learning keith and shiro know each other. At the wedding Keith initiates conversation cuz he has no idea that Lance knows Shiro. Lance wants to damn well know the answer after seeing them together.

/////////////////////////////

Shiro/Matt wedding: the first klance interaction since...Lance’s heat

Lance goes stag, and is hyperaware that most people have a date or at least a 'plus one.' The last thing he ever would've expected was to encounter KEITH.

"How do you know Shiro" conversation

upon being face to face for the first time in a WHILE this is the first thing out of both their mouths

Keith: (conversationally) "So, how do you know Shiro?"

Lance: (sputtering indignantly) "How do I know Shiro? I grew up with him. How do YOU know Shiro???"

Keith hesitated with his drink at his lips, searching for a 'way' to word it.

Keith: (slowly) "Well~I guess you could say we worked together." Regretting the words the moment they left his mouth.

Lance: Lance stared slack-jawed. "No––No way." shock/stunned, mouth hanging open

Keith: "No-no-no-no. Not like that. I didn't mean––"

Lance took a deep breath and relaxed again.

Well Keith kind of did mean it, but Lance didn't need to know that, especially if they're childhood friends.

Keith massaged the truth a bit, it wasn't his place to tell Lance about something Shiro hadn't. It was Shiro's business.

From Keith's brief acquaintance with Shiro, it was a little eerie that he already had a connection to Lance from the year he was old enough to take his job. He was 18 and a new employee at the brothel, having dropped out of school. Not long after, an older guy joined up too. The notorious virgin Alpha hired only getting hired because of how fucking hot he was.

That'd be story for a different day...what was he thinking?? Like he'd get to see Lance enough to eventually tell him about that? He was constantly catching himself acting like they were already "in" a relationship.

**LATER**

Lance: (watching Matt with Shiro in their slow dance, eyes staring at Matt's suit collar that had to be hiding a mark Shiro made long before this day. It gave him chills thinking about it.) "I wonder what it feels like to be mated, claimed."

Keith almost choked on his drink when Lance suddenly said that introspectively. His heart raced. His body tensed. Was Lance addressing him or just talking to himself out loud??

KLANCE DANCING (at least one 'slow dance')––I want this to be important

So possibly have a wedding dance between them where the vibes Keith gets from lance give him the courage to take a chance.???????

Holding lance close cheek to cheek, chests pressed together arms wrapped around each other, hands pressed into backs. Whenever they spoke they looked each other in the eye, noses almost touching.

Both felt drunk on the others scent, fighting a strong urge to just close the distance for a kiss. They both wanted that taste again.

maybe they kiss? and it gets heated but their brains get in the way? OR they ALMOST kiss but one of them pulls away.

////////////////////////////

FUTURE . after angst and miscommunication

would KEITH "confess first??" maybe? but expect no reciprocation when he does.

the line below is text FROM A FANART by artisttothebone

Lance: "I love your eyes, your hair, your smile, I love YOU Keith"

maybe make it something like...

Lance: "I love the warmth of your arms around me, the sound of your breathing, the feel of your laugh when I touch your chest. Every time I have to leave your side I die a little inside because I never want to be apart from you. I love YOU, Keith. You."

Keith: "Lance–"

/////////////////////////////

POST CLIMAX (they've been a together for a while)

Keith job situation. Decides to get his GED to eventually pursue psychology and language studies.

Insert jokes from Lance about having a high school boyfriend, and it implying some huge age gap, or that he's robbing the cradle etc.

Keith saying: "you KNOW, I'm actually OLDER than you"

And

"Its not high school, it's high school equivalent"

Lance knows all that he just loves how easy it is to rile Keith up, being so flappable. Lance always showers his love afterward

[scaryscarecrows]

Conflict of Interest

Some of the Riddler Informants are Militia members. Ouch.

It’s a complete accident that the boss is fucking with the radio at this exact moment. There was…an incident.

By which Antoine means that, in a panic to get out of Scarecrow’s way, a private had bumped into the main radio in the mall headquarters and sent the dial twisting way off. It sounds like they hit a Russian spy network. Oopsies.

The private is currently hiding several rooms away, Scarecrow is muttering darkly about incompetent help, and the boss is attempting to get everything back the way it was. Damage was done. Not serious damage, but damage.

“—swerving through straights!” Riddler gloats, and Antoine hopes he trips and impales himself on a rusty nail. Lockjaw would be a fitting, fitting thing for him. The Knight snorts.

“Like he’d drive any better.”

Huh?

Whatever. This is just going into the pile of ‘things the boss knows that he keeps to himself because nobody’s unlocked his Level Twelve Tragic Backstory’. Humph.

Sports, static-there! That’s Ron…hang on.

That’s not their frequency.

“Sir?”

“I know.”

“—hid that last trophy for my end, headin’ back to base now.”

Trophy? Is that little prick defecting to the Green?

Antoine hopes he shocks himself on one of those damn robots. (Oh, Chito…their love was never meant to be.)

The Knight returns them to the proper frequency and turns around, cocks his head in that way that says he’s entered Little Shit Mode.

“Drouot,” he says, deceptively cheerful, “where is Mister Freeling now?”

Damn. Instant firing.

“Uh, should be in the Cauldron, sir.”

“I’d like to see him. Go pick him up.”

This isn’t going to be pretty, is it.

* * *

Antoine is literally down the street from Ron when the Goddamn Batman plummets from the sky.

It’s over quickly. By the end, when Batman is gone and the street has four new speed bumps, Antoine is stricken with the need to ensure his balls are where they’re supposed to be and not, like, knocked off his body like a punching bag. They’re fine. That guy over there, by the sidewalk? Maybe not. He was on the ground when that punch landed.*

Children are not in his future.

He lifts a shaky hand to his ear and wheezes, “Boss?”

“What.”

“He’s, uh, I don’t…he’s asleep. Due to, uh, the knee of Justice and the knuckles of Pain.”

“What?” There are no better words and he’s not sorry. “Batman?”

Nobody ever died from a little omission.

“Looks like it.”

Silence. In the distance, Scarecrow monologues at the GCPD about fear responses. The giant plant snatches a bird out of the air. Antoine wonders if the sun will ever rise again.

“Bring him back anyway,” the boss decides. “I know how to wake him up.”

That’s ominous.

“Yes, sir.”

Eyes peeled for anything deadly and/or painful, he makes his way down the street, hauls Ron into a fireman’s carry, and dumps him in the APC. They’re en route back to base when the boss comes back on the line.

“Change of plans.”

Fuck no.

“Sir?”

“Take him over to Mercy Bridge.”

Oh, God. This is gonna be one of those times that the boss starts embracing the joys of Irony, isn’t it. Great. Make way for the Drama Queen.

“Yes, sir.”

Mercy Bridge isn’t that far. The boss is there already, leaning against a beam and flipping a knife in his hand. Okay. So he’s probably not, like, overly pissed. That’s his normal fidgety behavior. It’s something.

He’s still kinda pissed, though. He must be. There’s no other explanation for yanking Ron out of the APC that roughly, tying one end of his grappling line to the front bumper, and tying the other end around Ron’s ankles.

“Uh, boss?”

The knots are good, he finds out, when the boss drags Ron to the edge of the bridge-

-and drops him over the edge. Ow. There’s some dislocations for you.

It’s a long way down. That’s only made more apparent by Ron swinging gently in the breeze, dwarfed by the infrastructure around him.

“Boss?”

“He’s fine.” The Knight leans over the edge and Antoine is stricken with the idea that he’ll lose his footing and plummet to his death. “Wake up, Mister Freeling.” He jiggles the line. Ron sways a little faster. “Wake up.”

“Uh, boss,” he says carefully, “that was, erm, he took a. A pretty brutal ass-kicking back there, and, uh…”

“He’s fine.” More jiggling. Ron’s head comes dangerously close to smacking into a nearby support column. “But I don’t have all night.”

He pulls Ron back up, jabs him in the thigh with an adrenaline pen, and shoves him back over the edge. Ron must wake up about halfway down, because there’s now screaming.

“OH GOD—”

“There you are!” The Knight leans over the edge again and waves. “Gotta say, I wasn’t too happy to find you doing the Riddler’s work tonight.”

“How—”

“I have my ways.”

Antoine wonders, about now, how many times the boss has ‘known things’ were actually incidents of accidental discovery. He doesn’t think it’s that many, because he’d have been there for at least some of them, but still.

“It was just once, his guys-th-they jumped me, made me do it, I swear—”

“Stop lying!”

This just might end badly.

But then again, snitches do get stitches. And to be fair, the Knight’s only killed a couple of them, who, uh. Antoine will admit they might have had it coming.

Eh. He’s not going to try and intervene. Ron is probably going to be fine.

Ron, at this exact moment, is blabbering about ‘getting intel on the Riddler’. Which. Seriously. Nobody cares about the Riddler. Batman doesn’t even seem to care! For a while there, every five minutes the guy would come over the broadcast system to complain that Batman was ignoring him. It was almost bad enough that Antoine was considering begging the boss to tell Batman to go deal with the guy, just to shut him up.

Almost.

The Knight seems to be thinking along the same lines, if his exasperated sigh is anything to go off of. Then again, that could be Batman-related; in the distance, there’s a VROOM! and the horrible crunching of buildings being destroyed. Seriously, the guy drives almost as bad as the boss. And to be fair, when your car can crush buildings, why should you stay in your lane?

“So you took initiative,” he says. Ron nods. Well. Maybe. The swaying makes it hard to tell.

“Yessir!”

Another sigh. A few streets away, a building catches fire. Antoine wonders if he really needs to stand here, or if he can wait in the car. Or just leave.

“Sir?” he hedges. “Um. Should we, uh, really be out in the open like this?”

The sheer irritation of the head-tilt answers his question.

“It’s fine.”

“Sorry, sir.”

The Knight hauls Ron back up to solid ground. Antoine has to give it to him, he doesn’t try to lurch away from the edge of the bridge. He does, however, start frantically saying, “I’m sorry, boss, I didn’t think—”

“No. You didn’t.” Uh-oh. “How stupid do you think I am, Freeling?” Ron’s hefted up and slammed into a nearby pillar. “You’d better hope Riddler has good insurance,” he continues, nodding towards the ankle with the line around it. Said ankle is clearly out of socket and the boss is still holding the line in his hand. “Broken ankles just don’t heal right on their own.”

Broken? It’s not—

Crunch.

Oh. Never mind.

Ron is dropped, wheezing desperately, and they’re going to just…leave him here. Um. Okay?

Okay. Right then. He gives Ron an awkward wave, the kind you give your coworkers as they’re leaving for the last time with their desk contents in an Amazon box, and gets back behind the wheel. Dumb it might be, but there’s a little bit of security that comes with being in the car. There’s a least a little bit of a shield between him and any Batmans plummeting from the sky.

“Back to base, sir?”

Before the boss can answer, the ground starts shaking and to Antoine’s infinite horror, something big and green and floral erupts from the ground near the graveyard in Drescher. No. NO! He has a plant! There is a one monster-plant limit per…per…however many square miles Gotham city is! How many plants does he need? How many does he have?

“Are you kidding me?” He’s half-tempted to stab himself in the thigh, make sure Scarecrow didn’t drug him at some point. “Come on!”

The Knight swears, vigorously and in two languages, before jabbing a finger against his ear and snarling, “Sergeant? There’s a weed grown tall in Divinity Churchyard. Cut it down.” They don’t have to go over there, do they? “Yes. Back to base. The Cloudburst should be nearly charged.”

Oh, yeah. That. Is it bad to hope that it’s broken?

“Yessir.”

“And Drouot.”

“Yessir?”

“Take the scenic route.”

Ah. That’s Knightese for, ‘give the plant a wide berth because it’s scary and probably capable of crushing the car like an aluminum can’. Thank God.

“That was the plan, boss.”

He feels a little bad for abandoning Ron, but he knew the risks. And it’s not like the plant is here. And hey! Batman’s probably going to be near the plant, so he’s not here, either! He’ll be fine. Maybe one of his new coworkers will come and get him.

THE END

*Batman can indeed (appear to) punch a mook inna nuts. I don’t even have them and I feel bad when that happens. Jesus, Bruce, talk about birth control.

[trashytacosan]

Title: Jump Scare

 Rated: T 

Pairing: BokuAka

Thank you @serviceace for this great prompt!! 

“Remember, Keiji,” says Bokuto for like the millionth time since they’ve stepped in the serpent-like line waiting to enter the attraction, “If you get too scared, you can hold on to me.”

Akaashi sighs, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The Super Scary Labyrinth of Fear at Fuji Q Highland is Japan’s largest haunted attraction. For the past couple of years, Bokuto has always wanted to go but either work or his personal life intervened. This year, he has the pleasure of finally visiting one of the most talked about haunted houses in the country along with his gorgeous boyfriend who he may or may not be trying to impress.

When Bokuto saw a poster advertising the hospital-themed maze of terror, his first thought was, “Holy fuck! So cool!” but his second thought was about how awesome it’d be to take Akaashi just so he could show off his protective side.

This is how Bokuto is expecting things to go: Akaashi will be terrified and will seek him for comfort even after they’ve left the attraction. Then, when they’re back at his place, Akaashi will want him to hold him all night long.

Oh, he can see it now. Beautiful Keiji snuggled up close to Bokuto as he comforts him and reassures him that he won’t let anything ever happen to him.

“What are you so happy about?” asks Akaashi, interrupting Bokuto’s elaborate fantasy.

Laughing sheepishly, Bokuto places his arm around Akaashi. “I’m just happy that you’re here with me, that’s all!” Well, that is part of the reason why he’s so happy so it’s not like it’s a total lie.

“One of my coworkers said she couldn’t sleep for a week after coming here.” Akaashi tilts his head up to gauge their place in the line. “I’m starting to wonder if she’d been terrified of the long wait more than anything.”

The line is ridiculously long. They’ve been there for nearly an hour now. Bokuto hopes that Akaashi isn’t going to want to leave; not that he’d really mind it. If Akaashi isn’t feeling it then he can just find another way to impress his boyfriend. Though, this does seem like his best shot.

Suddenly, Akaashi is taking him by the hand, “We’ve made it this far so there’s no point in leaving,” he says as though he’s read Bokuto’s mind.

His heart is beating so fast he thinks it’s going to explode. It amazes Bokuto how easily Akaashi can see through him. His smile is blinding now. They continue to hold hands as the line dwindles down. When it’s their turn, Bokuto’s heart is racing for a completely different reason than before.

In the distance, he can hear the sound of terrified screams over the cliche, spooky music. From where he’s standing in the entrance, the corridor is dark without a hint of light. Before either of them can take in this sight, they are shoved inside the hospital. Once they’re inside, the doors are shut behind them. For a few moments, they’re surrounded by utter darkness. Bokuto has to fight the urge to reach out for Akaashi.

Lights are suddenly illuminating their path. Akaashi is the first to walk forward. Straightening his shoulders out, Bokuto steps ahead of his boyfriend. He has to make sure that nothing jumps out and attacks his precious Keiji.

“Just follow me, Keiji,” Bokuto tosses over his shoulder, “I’ll prote-”

Without warning, something pops out and collides with Bokuto. He lets out the most embarrassing scream that he can muster before realizing that it’s nothing but an inflatable, zombie nurse.

“Koutarou, are you okay?” Akaashi asks, rubbing the man on his back.

Rubbing the back of his head, Bokuto laughs it off, “Yeah, yeah. That wasn’t even scary. I was just trying to scare you, heehee!”

“Right.”

They make it to the second stage without any more interruptions. On the second stage, there are several rooms with different scenes. In the first room, they watch a surgery gone wrong where the patient starts to murder the doctor. Then, the patient notices that they’re watching and runs after them screaming with a bloody scalpel in their grasp. Bokuto somehow trips and the patient grabs his ankle, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

“Keiji!” Bokuto screams.

Akaashi shoves the patient away and helps Bokuto to his feet. As soon as they’re out of the room, the real terror begins. Every twist and turn down the hallway, something new is trying to attack them. It’s to the point where Bokuto forgets his earlier bravado and is the one who’s actually clinging onto his boyfriend for dear life.

“It’s okay, Koutarou,” Akaashi reassures his boyfriend, “We’re almost out of here.”

Bokuto is near hysteria, “D-Did you see that ghost kid? His head, Keiji. What happened to his head?” he frantically asks, holding on to Akaashi like his life depends on it.

“Yeah, whoever does the makeup here is really talented.”

That’s right, Bokuto tells himself, It’s just people in makeup. There is nothing to fear. Up ahead is the exit. Bokuto is starting to feel his terror wear off. This is his last chance to prove to Akaashi that he can protect him from anything.

“Be careful, Keiji,” Bokuto starts, untangling his hands from his boyfriend’s shirt, “This is where they hit us with their hardest jump-scare.”

Almost immediately after Bokuto says this, a group of clowns jump out and begin to chase them down the corridor. Bokuto leaves Akaashi behind to save his own skin; he’s terrified of clowns.

Behind him, Akaashi and the group of clowns watch Bokuto run out of the exit, screaming at the top of his lungs. Akaashi has to cover his mouth to muffle his laugh.

. . . . . . .

“I didn’t know they’d have clowns,” Bokuto defends during the drive home.

Akaashi isn’t going to point out that Bokuto was afraid of every little thing that jumped out at them. “They should have listed that somewhere.” He touches his boyfriend’s knee as he drives. “There are a lot of people who are afraid of clowns.”

“You don’t think I’m weak, do you, Keiji?”

“Of course not. Coulrophobia is a real thing.”

Bokuto also knows that he was afraid of more than just the clowns, but now Akaashi is rubbing his knee and talking to him in his “soothing” voice. He supposes that he can be the one who is need of comforting tonight.

“You know if any of that was real, I would’ve taken them all out just to keep you safe. Right, Keiji.”

“I know, Koutarou.”

When they’re at Bokuto’s apartment, Akaashi waits until his boyfriend is in the shower to look at the photos he secretly purchased after the attraction. It was when Bokuto was running to the parking lot, in fear of his life.  He doesn’t think he’s seen anything funnier than Bokuto when he’s scared. He’ll be sure to keep the photos for his own private delight.