#anyway; all these feelings were made worse by my mom sneezing

[adrienneleclerc]

Cachetona

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N gets told she’s cute all the time by everyone including her boyfriend and she worries that he doesn’t find her sexy

Warning: grammar and spelling errors, no translated Spanish porque me da flojera, IMPLIED innocence and corruption kink if you could call it that, honestly. It's kinda angsty fluff

A/N: I actually requested something similar to @shellyshellshell but this time I’m gonna add my own spin to it. I get told I’m cute and adorable by my bestie, I’ve been told I was cute by some adults, and I’m fine with it. Like I’m 21, I know I’m cute and adorable, because of my personality along with my chubby cheeks, so this is something I worry about and lowkey struggle with. Like I feel I can’t dress in a “sexy” way or do my makeup in a “sexy” way because I feel like it doesn’t match my face or hair at all. Así que me toca vestirme “cute”

Y/N has always had a rounder face and chubby cheeks. Even at her big age of 32, she still has those chubby cheeks that her mom likes to point out all the time. She thought she would have looked more mature by now like other women her age, she thought wrong.

However, truth be told she really didn’t mind being called cute growing up. It wasn’t until her previous partners only saw her as cute, it was even worse when her current boyfriend, Henry Cavill, started calling her cute.

They met a few months ago at Disneyland, which was already a bad start, Henry took his nephews (and nieces, idk) while Y/N went with her friends as a big Disney fan herself. They met on the line of the INCREDIBLES rollercoaster because his niece liked the loungefly bag Y/N had, again, not the best start.

Henry thought that Y/N was adorable in her Disney bound of Marie from the Aristocats and they kept talking in the line until he made the move to invite her to eat after the ride, to which she obviously said yes to because who the hell would say no. And that’s how it all began.

At Disneyland

“So Y/N, I like your outfit, it’s adorable, Marie?” Henry asked, gesturing at her outfit that consisted of white shorts, a pastel pink top with a pink bow in her hair, wearing a pearl choker with a gold bow charm, and pastel pink platform converse.

“Oh yes, it one of my favorite classic Disney movies. I’m a big fan of Disney. What about you? You have a favorite Disney movie?” Y/N asked.

“I’d have to say Hercules.” Henry answered.

“The music is amazing, and I love Megara. Anyway, what are you working on right now?” Y/N asked.

They were together for the rest of the Disney trip until on of her friends, Valeria, called her to say they’re leaving. Henry asked for her phone number and he called her the next day so they could have their first date.

First date

Y/N went to her closet and chose a White lace top with light blue shorts, nude block heel ankle boots, and her pearl choker again. Henry sent her the address of the coffee shop he wanted to meet at and when he saw her at the door, he thought she looked beautiful.

“Thank you for meeting me here, you look precious.” Henry said.

“Thank you, you look handsome.” Y/N said, sitting down at the table. When they ordered, Y/N ordered a brownie and a strawberry creme frappe for some much needed sugar and Henry ordered a croissant and coffee.

They talked about whatever people talk about on first dates, it went really well until...

"I'll call you later, cutie." Henry said, kissng Y/N on the cheek.

Present day

Y/N was in Henry's living room, wearing glasses, hair in two braids, a cream knit sweater, and shorts with Kal by her side. Henry came through the door after a meeting with his agent.

"Hey, Bunny, you're looking adorable today, how was your day?" Henry asked. 'Bunny' was your nickname because after you sneeze, you would twitch your nose before rubbing your nose with your thumb (guilty), much like a rabbit would.

"My day has been fine, took Kal for a walk, made him one of those frozen treats that are safe for dogs, safe to say he enjoyed them, el muy goloso." Y/N said.

"Thats good to hear." Henry said as he got close enough squish her face. "I love these chubby cheeks of yours, you're so cute." and Henry kissed her and went to pet Kal. "Are you going to stay and eat? I can make my specialty."

"I'd love to but i actually gotta head out." Y/N said, hoping Henry doesn't notice anything wrong with her.

"I can take you, it's no problem at all." Henry said.

"No, no, its fine, you cook whatever, I'll just make something at my apartment." Y/N said and kissed Henry before going to her car. She couldn't take it, she has been called 'cute' one too many times by Henry and to top it off, he mentioned her chubby cheeks, she was a grown woman, there are only so many times a grown woman could be called cute.

She drove to her apartment and began muttering.

"Can't believe he called me adorable." Y/N said, closing the door, putting her bag on the couch. She then saw her reflection in the full body mirror Valeria insisted in getting for their apartment. "No wonder he calls me cute." She observed her hair in braids and took it off, messing up her hair. She took off her glasses to see if that makes anything better - it didn't. Thats when she heard the door open.

"Amiga! No sabes cuanta gente estaban en las tiendas." Valeria said, putting her shopping bags down. "What happened? I thought you were going to be with your superstar boyfriend all day." Valeria said, looking at Y/N who is staring at her reflection.

"Henry called me cute again, y dijo algo sobre yo siendo cachetona." Y/N said.

"But Amiga, I thought you were okay with being called cute." Valeria said.

"I am fine with my family members or my friends calling me cute because I know that. Like I’m not exactly built like a Victoria’s Secret Angel, but I thought that at least my boyfriend of all people would at least find me hot. Clearly Henry doesn't see me that way." Y/N said as she plopped down on the floor.

"Hey, you don't know that." Valeria attempted to comfort her friend.

"He was called me adorable, precious, cute, not even beautiful, and he has never called me sexy." Y/N stated.

"Yeah, I can't argue with that." Valeria said.

"See! Y siendo cachetona no me ayuda. Men call you sexy, how can I be more like you?" Y/N asked. "Agh, I sound like a fucking teenager."

"It's all about confidence." Valeria said but Y/N kept looking at her. "Okay, I love you, you know I do, but you do own a lot of pastel colors in your closet. You can borrow my clothes whenever you're out with Henry, that's a given, but even the way you do your makeup is cute, and I know you hate hearing that."

"You're right, you're right. Okay, show me how to do my makeup so it could look ‘hot’ instead of ‘cute’.” Y/N said and that’s exactly what Valeria did. She gave Y/N a Smokey eye with Fox eyeliner, a darker lipstick, contour so her face looks slimmer, and minimal blush. “I feel ridiculous.” Y/N said.

“That’s because you’re not used to it. Also, if you want to look hotter, you need to straighten your hair. Like that sleek straight look.” Valeria said. “But that’s for the next time you want to see Henry, has he texted you?”

“Mm, no, not yet. Which one of these outfits do you think would look better on me?” Y/N said, opening up Valeria’s closet.

The next day, Y/N was in bed when she got a text from Henry.

Toro: hey Bunny, you want to come over tonight? I’ll cook your favorite.

You: yeah, Torito, I’ll come over, what time?

Toro: 6 sounds fine?

You: yep, sounds good.

Toro: okay, see you later, cutie 😘

“Cutie.” Y/N mocked. She got off her bed and went to Valeria’s closet and took out some things that she believed Henry might like her in. “Valeria, I’m borrowing your clothes!”

“Okay!” Valeria shouted from the shower. “You gonna shower so I can leave the water running for you?”

“Yeah, thank you!” Y/N shouted.

Y/N took a shower, washed her hair really well, shaved, when she finished, she put on lotion, her underwear, and a robe to blowout her hair. She changed and her her robe back on to do her makeup, took off her robe, and put on a perfume Henry bought you. She put on some black heels and a pair of her gold hoop earrings. She went to show Valeria.

“How do I look?” Y/N asked.

“Estás buena.” Valeria said.

“Thank you, let’s hope Henry thinks so.” Y/N said.

She got into her car and drove to Henry’s. She stayed in her car for a few minutes.

“Okay, it’s all good, you look hot, you look sexy, you’re not cute, not adorable, you’re hot.” Y/N said to herself before leaving the car and knocking on Henry’s door. Henry opened it and was in awe of how Y/N looked.

“Wow, Bunny, you look great!” Henry said, hugging her and letting her in the house. “So I’m making the rice now, the chicken is already done.”

“Great. Hola, Osito, how are you, Kal?” Y/N cooed at the fluffy Akita.

“You’re so cute.” Henry said. Y/N paused for a second.

“Toro, can we talk about something?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind, cutie?” Henry asked.

“That.” Y/N pointed at him.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you a serious question and I need you to answer me honestly. Do you find me attractive?” Y/N asked.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do, you know I think you’re precious to me.” Henry tried to reassure Y/N.

“No no no, not like that, I mena like sexually attractive.” Y/N said.

“I Don’t understand.” Henry said.

“Okay, we’ve met at Disneyland, right? You thought I was cute, that’s understandable because I tried to look as adorable as possible because I was Disney bounding. But the dates after Disney, you kept calling me cute or adorable or precious. Now i grew up getting called cute, my friends and family call me cute, I don’t mind getting called by them. But when my boyfriend calls me cute, someone I’m supposed to feel desired by…I know it’s stupid, and even saying this out loud is stupid, but when I’m dressed like this.” Y/N said, gesturing to her outfit. “And you still call me cute, it feels like you’re not attracted to me the same way I’m attracted to you. So please tell me something before we go any further in our relationship.” Y/N said. Henry was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. He turned off the stove and led Y/N to the living room so they could talk on the couch.

“Y/N, i am very attracted to you.” Henry said, look into her eyes.

“It doesn’t feel like it. Why do you always call me cute though? Why is it never beautiful or gorgeous or even sexy?” Y/N asked

“Because your adorable nature is something I find very sexy.” Henry said leaning in.

“A ver, Toro, i Don’t understand.” Y/N said, leaning back.

“Your aura, your way of presenting yourself, is very innocent and cute. It’s like loving an angel. So I find you very sexy, the way you dress in your pastel colors makes you look so angelic when we both know what’s underneath is down right sinful. You are so bloody tempting that I call you cute to hold myself back from doing what I really want to do to you.” Henry said.

“Who knew the great Henry Cavill has a innocence kink.” Y/N giggled a little.

“Yeah yeah, tease all you want, bunny. But do you understand what I’m telling you?” Henry grabbed her chin to tilted her head so she’s looking in his eyes. “You are very sexy, I find your cuteness very sexy. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t desired because you are, I desire you every night.” Henry said and they kissed. “You feel better now, bunny?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Thank you, Toro.” Y/N said. “So…when did you first think I was sexy?” Y/N asked and Henry chuckled.

“Alright, let’s eat first and then we’ll discuss that, Bunny.” Henry said, leading Y/N to the kitchen.

The End

So Henry’s nickname is “Toro” which means “bull” because he’s a Taurus and of course really strong like a bull.

Taglist: @warriormirkwood

[osscarh]

This is my first post ever and I thought maybe I could share a nice story with ya all. I've never really put it in complete order so it's time I do that.

As prelude, I own 3 cats. One of them, the oldest, is, at the time of writing this, 12 years old, with his papers noting that he was born the 6th of April 2012, 3 days after my dad's birthday. His name is Sacha, despite the vets who all name him Sasha (and also wrote that he's a girl for some reason? I mean he doesn't seem bothered but I don't think he understands English.) His name is kinda dumb but my bro named him. I prefer giving Egyptian names to my cats.

I got Sacha around 2015, I don't really remember which month. I was around 13 at the time and my first cat had just died. My mom was really feeling bad so we adopted Sacha from a center. His previous owners had placed him there cuz the lady got pregnant and apparently cats can mess with fetuses or something. Idk but I think his previous owners were lame cuz he stayed in that center for like 6 months and they took bad care of him. His claws grew in his paws, his fur got a lot of knots and he smelled really bad. He's half Persian so he needs a lot of care.

When he arrived home he was super sweet but really doing poorly. We toon him to the vet for his claws and hired a lady to remove his knots. He didn't like his new cut so the lady zooted him on I thinl weed? It was some drug, mfer has had more experiences with illicit substances than I and I'm kinda jealous tbh.

Sacha was my only cat for a while. My mom adopted Bagheera, a kitten born from one of her sister's cats when she divorced my dad around 2016 and Sacha stayed at my dad's place with me and my brother (the fucker who named him with such a lame name).

Anyway time passed, I lived my best life with my cat, took care of him, took him to vet every year for his vaccines (he goes outside), reconnected with my mom and adopted a kitten who was born in my mom's backyard and named him Settra. So that's why I have 3 cats. But back on track, in 2022 Sacha got an eye infection. We had to do a lot of ophtalmology to get it sorted and my mom helped a lot with that despite the fact that the cat wasn't even in her home. His eye's doing okay now but he needed new material be brought in his eye. Persians tend to be weak in eyes and nose.

Then when the summer vacations of 2023 ended, Sacha got sick. At first it was a minor cold so we didn't do anything, some snot in his nose, then around mid September he ate less. Come end of September and he was doing bad, still eating but always sneezing and his throat was inflamed. I brought him to the vet and he was given antibiotics that kinda helped.

By the beginning of October Sacha was doing pretty poorly and eating way less. He was always a fat cat so this concerned me a lot. The vet couldn't tell why the antibiotics weren't acting as he was supposed to have an infection so they gave him more and asked us to get a visit to a pet hospital 1h of travel away (Belgium is small, 1h of travel looks a lot for me but for American folks it's prilly shorert). So we did, got something planned for end of october. I wanted faster but they were full and he was still eating so not an emergency.

Meanwhile Sacha's health got worse. One of his eyes (not the one who had the surgery) couldn't open and he had little things in the part of forehead between his eyes that made a sort of scritchy sound when you ran your hand over it. Most concerningly, he wasn't eating. We (my mom and I) took him to another vet who did acupuncture with relative success, allowed Sacha to eat well for a day or two before going back to not eating.

I was getting really desperate so I mixed his food and fed him with a syringe for a week. I knew if my dad knew he wasn't eating, he'd suggest euthanasia as the costs of bringing a pet to the hospital are quite high. So I took his wet food, put it in my mom's mixer and mixed it for like 15 minutes when going back from school while dad was away, then cut it into even smaller bits and forcefed him with a syringe (his throat was super inflamed and small so he was probably in pain and I knew it but I couldn't stand to watch him thin like that).

On the 26th of October, we went to the hospital for him. My mom and I were reluctant to go there because it's an universitary hospital and we were kinda scared that he'd be put on life support and...I guess experimented on? We didn't want his life be prolonged if he was in constant pain but we went nonetheless. My mom took a day off work (again, she took a lot to get the cat to the vet) and I warned my Spanish teacher that I couldn't attend. She's a really sweet lady and I told her the story, she was super supportive.

The hospital was not all like we anticipated. The doctors were really charming and quite open with how much stuff cost. I speak French and the hospital staff spoke Dutch so we settled on English as a language to communicate with. Tirns out spending all that time playing dnd with strangers on discord paid off for me, I was able to talk with these docs no problem.

Of course without insurance it was expensive but it was doable to pay. They ran scans on Sacha and it was promising, they said he had an infection but had the right antibiotics for him. Since he didn't eat, they wanted to keep him there and we agreed. We gave our phone numbers and left.

When we visited Sacha the following day, they told us he had a lymphoma. It's blood cancer for those who dunno what that means (I certainly didn't till October). They asked us if we wanted to begin chemo.

I was fucking devastated. That cat had been with me through my parents' divorce, the death of family members, graduation, the lowest of my sick days and the brightest of my good days. I didn't want to leave him die of hunger without a fight.

My mom didn't have enough money to pay for it in full and my dad'd never use his money to pay for a cat's chemotherapy so I agreed to pay most of ot. I had a decent bit of money in a bank account, I basically never buy anything so pockeh money, student job money and birthday money stacked up. My dad'd never have allowed me to pay for that (neither him nor I even knew they had chemotherapy for cats) so I lied and said my mom paid for it.

He stayed at the hospital until the 31st of October, of course we visited him everyday and the hospital staff kept us informed with daily phonecalls to schedule a visit and tell us what was up. During that time (5 days since he arrived, 4 days since chemo started) they put a tube in his throat to feed him and started the chemo.

That. Shit. Worked. When we brought him home, he could open his eye again and even wanted to go for food (motherfucker do you know how much that tube costs?). He played with the other cats and we had a weekly checkup for him. I missed many Spanish classes. During his time at the center he really liked one doctor who calls him Sir and basically saved his life.

Of course he stayed at my mom's place. It was easier for feeding through his tube at first, my mom was in vacations and he needed 3 meals a day, then he stayed there. Wasn't gonna let him stay in the home of a person who'd let him die. I love my dad but fuck him for this. He admitted several times he'd have never brought my cat to that hospital (so he'd have left him die of cancer and hunger, poor cat was thinning by the day).

His tube was removed a month later and visits moved to once every 3 weeks. It's been continuing since then with me and my mom paying 50/50 for the costs. I missed a university travel to Athens because I couldn't afford it (something I'll never admit to my parents, I pretended there was drama and I didn't want to get involved) and I guess I won't leave the country this year. Honestly I'd have cut both arms to save that cat so it's a small price.

The people at the hospital love him too. He's really friendly so students can take his blood and try to take his heartbeat without worries. Problem is that he purrs too loud for a good lung listening to take place. Turns out Sacha loves getting pets and attention from groups of students and doctors who give him treats and headpats. He has done more drugs than me and has a better date game than me.

It's been quite a while now. Sacha's been doing really well and the recent reports note that he is in remission. I may have cried when I read that mail ngl. He goes outside and killed a big pigeon a few weeks ago. He plays with the other cats, he really likes Settra and for the first time in his life he does playfight. Bagheera likes him as a punching bag despite being smaller than him. My mom stays with him everyday and I visit half of the days of the week. He eats like a lion too, he went from 3 kilos to 4.7 kilos when he was last checked this Wednesday.

I guess this is a selfish post, it's kind of my way of both thanking the people who helped me like my mom, the docs and my Spanish teacher, without having to say thank you to their faces yet again, and a way of making my cat immortal in a way. Even with all the help, Sacha's gonna be gone one day, hopefully in a very long time. But this post'll remain for a while more so there'll be a trace of what humans did for that cat.

I also wanted to say that please don't be afraid to go to universitary pet hospitals if you have the means to afford it. It's a scary place, I didn't even know it existed but these people aren't out there vivisecting animals. They're really nice. And don't give up too early on stuff that matters to you, it's really worth to keep going, at least in this case.

And if you could do a few prayers for Sacha, that'd genuinely mean a lot to me.

Anyway here is the cat tax. I've included quite a few pics so this post can be even longer than it is.

Sacha as he was before he got sick:

Sacha as he was in October:

(Don't mind his lack of fur that's because he had too many knots and drastic measures had to be taken)

Sacha as he is now:

Sacha with Bagheera, on their favorite blankets.

Sacha and Settra begging to go outside (it's raining! I open the door and they don't leave!)

I love you, you dumb orange fuck.

[beamzar]

21st Nov 2023

Open entry: 19:35

I caught a virus from central London on Sunday, and havent recovered since. The illness has died down quite rapidly, but not quick enough. Chesty coughs, frequent sneezes and all that good stuff. Its pretty horrible, everyones getting sick.

Well anyway, my day has been boring. Woke up at 4am in a cold sweat. I pretty much stripped myself off of all clothing because i felt suffocated. I dont like the feel of thick clothes on me while i sleep, they make me all sweaty and gross. I then woke up again at 6am. This time by my mom who came in to check up on me. I had a slight fever which fixed up a few hours later. Per norm. I dont really remember what happened afterward. I kept falling in and out of sleep, quite uncomfortable. Ive made a mess of myself multiple times today, wether it was from a poor attempt at eating the pizza i had thrown in the oven, or a darn sneeze. I hate sneezing, mostly because they always cancel out or pop my ears.

I stayed in bed most the day, occasionally popping into the bathroom because of an uneasy feeling in my stomach. The bad part was that, it was dark, and damp. It wasnt a cozy sort of warm. Even though i had 2 thick blankets on me, my skin was still cold, and covered in sweat in some areas. I had been in bed for hours all tucked in so why was my skin still so cold??? Well anyway, i couldnt game or anything because my eyes burn, and im constantly dizzy. I did play a bit of Night In the Woods when i got bored of sleeping, but that didnt last long. The puzzles from the Lost Constellation minigame honestly made my headache worse. Plus, i cant read well.

I ate alright today, nothing too fancy but, still ate enough to survive. About to have dinner. Its meat. Kebab in my language, with fries. I dont really like kebab that much, and eating meat rn would mess me up, but im still starving.

Might watch some hannibal with my friends in a bit, were finally starting season 2. Im very exited. A bit irritated that i cant binge watch it but, that factor is redeemed by the company, and the laughs (or grossed out comments) we share. Fun stuff.

I feel like shit but, hopefully ill be able to go to school tomorrow. My psychology teacher hasnt answered my email, and our class tomorrow was cancelled, so i guess i wont be able to catch up.

Close entry: 19:50

Heres a song, it doesnt really relate to anything. Take it as a reccomendation or something

[lady-wallace]

Over and Over: Whumptober Day 8 (JJBA)

Today’s @whumptober prompt is more Josuke whump. Gave the poor kid appendicitis today. 

Prompt: Everything Hurts and I’m Dying (stomach pain)

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 4

Character: Josuke

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

Masterpost

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Josuke woke up feeling like crap that morning.

He probably should have begged off school, but he didn't have a fever and he wasn't sneezing so his mom probably would have told him to go anyway. Besides, it was mostly just a stomach upset—probably something he'd eaten the day before or whatever. He wasn't originally going to worry too much about it, but then while he was sitting in the middle of second period, the pain seemed to be growing worse.

By lunch, he really wished he had stayed home.

"You're not eating anything, bro?" Okuyasu asked him as the three of them sat in their favorite spot on the low wall outside the cafeteria.

"Nah, my stomach kind of hurts today," Josuke muttered, drinking some water and trying to ignore the growing nausea.

Koichi frowned at him worriedly. "You look a little pale, are you sure you aren't getting sick or something?"

"Maybe," Josuke said, wrapping a protective arm around his middle. It wasn't exactly uncommon for him to have pain relating to the injuries he'd gotten from his fight with Kira, but…this wasn't in the same spot as the scar tissue that usually gave him trouble. Which made him wonder what the hell this was all about if it wasn't that.

"If you feel that bad maybe you should go to the nurse," Koichi said.

"Yeah, then maybe she'll send you home," Okuyasu added hopefully.

"I'm fine, really. Besides, I don't want my mom to get a call at work. It would just worry her."

His friends were silent. They actually knew more about how worried Josuke's mom had been while he was in the hospital than he did since he'd at least been unconscious for most of it. Still, he knew how much anything having to do with his health sent her off these days and if this was just a stomach bug, there was no point in worrying her. He'd just forget about homework today and sleep it off when he got home.

The nausea, unfortunately, seemed to only get worse as the day went on. Accompanied by the constant ache in his stomach, he was afraid he was going to puke. Honestly Josuke just wanted to lay down. He almost caved and asked to go to the nurse, but he only had one more class that day and didn't think it was really worth it. He'd probably get home sooner if he just waited now.

He breathed an audible sigh of relief as the last bell rang and hurried out of the school, meeting up with the others to walk home.

"You really don't look that good," Koichi told him as Josuke tried not to lag too noticeably.

"I feel pretty crappy," Josuke admitted honestly, and, yeah, he felt even worse than he had that morning. He had that horrible feeling in the back of his throat, like dread, that came before you threw up. Maybe he should stop fighting it so much and just do it. He might actually feel better, especially if this was food poisoning or something. But if it was, wouldn't be have been throwing up way more already? Probably some stomach flu then, unless…

The doctors had said there was a possibility of the scar tissue in his side causing problems in the future, but the majority of the pain was actually focused on the opposite side of his injury, so he really didn't think it was that. Maybe he should just stop eating cheap convivence store food.

"I hope you feel better tomorrow," Koichi told him as he left to split off down his street.

"Yeah, thanks," Josuke murmured, swallowing hard against the urge to vomit.

He and Okuyasu continued to their own street, when Josuke just couldn't swallow down the nausea anymore and staggered toward the bushes to one end of the sidewalk stomach heaving.

"Dude!" Okuyasu cried as Josuke gagged and vomited into the bushes, clutching his stomach as the action sent pain tearing through his middle.

He was forced to his knees as he retched again and Okuyasu threw his school bag on the ground, hurrying to grab Josuke's shoulder before he simply faceplanted in the bushes.

"You all right, Josuke?" his friend asked helplessly, rubbing his back as he kept a firm grip on Josuke's shoulder.

Josuke groaned, and finally managed to catch his breath a little, spitting onto the ground. God, why did his stomach hurt so much? He blinked wetness from his eyes and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand with disgust.

"You feel any better now?" Okuyasu asked hopefully.

"Not really," Josuke groaned, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he tried to breathe through the pain. "Stomach really hurts."

Okuyasu furrowed his brows. "You sure you shouldn't go to a doctor?"

"Nah, I'm just gonna sleep it off." Josuke started to climb to his feet, wincing slightly. Okuyasu helped him up and kept a hand on his shoulder the rest of the way to his house. Josuke was grateful for the support.

Okuyasu walked him to his door. "You sure you're gonna be okay, man?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna rest," Josuke tried to smile but thought it was probably more of a grimace.

"Okay. See you later then."

Josuke unlocked the door and headed straight to his room, changing into his pajamas before crawling into bed. He felt a little better lying down, but was worried about the nausea coming back. That thought reminded him of the taste of bile still in his mouth and with a wince, he got up and went to brush his teeth, also grabbing some pain medicine.

When he was done, the front door opened as his mom came back.

"I'm home," she called.

Josuke bit his lip. He really didn't want her to know he was feeling so bad. He peeked down the stairs and she stared at him in surprise.

"What's this? Already in your pajamas."

Josuke forced a laugh. "Yeah, I feel kinda crappy, honestly. There's been something going around at school and I think I finally caught it."

His mom's brows instantly furrowed. "You're sick?"

"Don't worry about it, I just feel kind of gross. I'm just gonna sleep it off."

"Josuke, are you sure you're okay?" his mom asked.

For a brief second, Josuke thought about telling her how much his stomach hurt, but He still didn't think it was anything more than a stomach flu—the vomiting had pretty much confirmed that—so he didn't want her to get worked up over nothing.

"Yeah, nothing a little sleep won't fix," he said tiredly.

His mom sighed. "Well, all right, but tell me if it gets worse? I'll make sure to call into the school for you tomorrow."

"Thanks, mom," Josuke said and retreated to his room.

He flopped down on his bed and curled up into a position that hurt the least. After that he fell asleep pretty quickly.

XXX

He must have been out because he didn't wake again until next morning when his mom came to see him before work, pressing a hand worriedly to his forehead.

"Hm?" Josuke murmured, groggy.

"You're a little warm. I've left some medicine for the fever on your bedside table. There's also some soup in the fridge. Make sure to stay hydrated, okay?"

"'Kay," Josuke replied as his mom ran a hand briefly through his messy hair before she left.

Josuke took a deep breath and rolled over to sit up and take the medicine.

Pain ripped through his right side and he gasped out loud, doubling over.

"Shit," he hissed, swallowing down the instant nausea that welled in his throat. It wasn't going anywhere though and Josuke finally forced himself up and staggered across the hall, just barely making it before he threw up in the toilet.

The pain that resulted in just about made him pass out. He ended up lying on the cold tile floor, clutching his stomach and feeling like he was dying.

He was still there when the knock came on the door.

He groaned, but finally peeled himself off the floor and rinsed his mouth before he staggered downstairs and went to see who it was—if they were even still there.

It was Koichi and Okuyasu.

"Wow, you look awful," Koichi said worriedly as Josuke leaned against the door frame, a hand pressed to his stomach.

"We figured you probably weren't coming to school today, but we wanted to see if you needed anything," Okuyasu added.

Josuke shook his head. "No, I…I just need to lay down."

His knees shook and the urge to vomit was back. "Sorry," he gasped and hurried to the bathroom again, retching up bile since he had nothing in his stomach. As soon as he got his breath back he was sobbing from the pain.

"Josuke, you look really sick," Koichi said worriedly as he and Okuyasu appeared behind him to help steady him. Okuyasu handed him a cup of water and Josuke took it shakily, rinsing his mouth. "Did you tell your mom?"

"Didn't know it was this bad," Josuke muttered. Not exactly the truth, but maybe it was his fault for the denial.

"I really think you should see a doctor," Koichi said.

Josuke sank down until his back was against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. "Don't want to go to the hospital again," he said truthfully, rubbing at his eyes. "I hate it. And I can't stand seeing my mom worry."

His friends took seats on opposite sides of him.

"What about if we go with you?" Koichi said.

"Yeah, you can get checked out and if it's nothing, your mom doesn't need to know," Okuyasu added.

Josuke wiped a hand under his nose. They were right, he knew it, but still…

"You'll miss school."

"It's all right, we'll just say we were helping a friend. I know my parents won't get mad about that," Koichi told him with a smile.

Josuke let out a shuddering breath and finally nodded. "Okay. I'll go."

They took a taxi and Josuke somehow managed not to throw up in the car. The nagging pain had turned to a constant ache now, and Josuke leaned against Okuyasu's shoulder while they sat in the waiting room, exhausted and hurting.

"Josuke Higashikata."

Dread welled up in his throat as he heard his name called. Koichi and Okuyasu gave him encouraging looks as Okuyasu helped him to his feet and Josuke followed the nurse.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait too long for the doctor who came in to examine him, asking Josuke about when he'd started feeling the pain.

Josuke nearly bit through his lip as the doctor felt his stomach, it hurt so bad.

"And the pain is concentrated around here, correct?" the doctor asked as he pressed the area to the right of Josuke's belly button.

"Yeah," he gasped.

The doctor nodded and took a few notes.

"So is it just a stomach flu?" Josuke asked half-heartedly.

The doctor looked at him. "No, I'm afraid not. But the good news is that I do know what it is."

"W-what?" Josuke asked.

"Appendicitis."

Josuke felt his heart sink as the dread sank back in. That would mean more surgery. Shit. Tears welled in his eyes and he tried to blink them away, but the doctor saw them anyway and reached out to rub Josuke's shoulder comfortingly.

"I promise it will be all right. It's a simple procedure and not at all an uncommon problem. We'll have you taken care of by tonight. I'll have the nurse get you settled. Would you like your friends to come stay with you?"

Josuke nodded gratefully. "Yeah, and…can I call my mom? She's at work."

"Of course."

Josuke dreaded making the call, but knew it would be better for his mom to hear it from him instead of someone else. Koichi and Okuyasu sat there with him for support when she showed up at the hospital, demanding to know why he hadn't told her it was so bad. Josuke didn't have an answer and instead just started crying. He blamed the pain and fever for it but it was still embarrassing.

His mom stopped talking though and simply pulled him into a hug, holding onto him until the doctors came to prep him for surgery.

It wasn't nearly as bad as the last time. They promised he would be out in a couple days, and he had to admit that between the lack of an infected appendix and the pain medicine he felt a lot better now.

Plus, he also got to eat all the jello and ice cream he wanted. That definitely made up for some of it.

[voidpacifist]

just some endearing lil things about viktor because I have a lot of ideas

(and a lot of brainrot too)

he's probably one of those guys that sneezes all the fucking time when he's outside (this mf hasn't seen the sun in a Minute, okay)

the sappiest drunk in history, but even sappier when he's sober and comfortable around a person. will start a conversation about the dust on fucking bookshelves or something idk

probably a pen thief. one unclaimed writing utensil? bye bye bitch, it's his now!

probably wears compression socks. started as a medical thing, then he decided they were comfy and now he collects pairs

but he never folds them together or organizes them so the colors and patterns are never ever (ever) the same

we already k n o w this mf is a big old sweet tooth but just how much of one?

well, one night he and jayce were working late in the lab, probably on the hexgates cause be honest that probably took ages, and sky brought donuts

this man cleaned off a whole six of them

jayce briefly wondered if he should bring viktor some water or an antacid, but he just continued working like nothing happened at all

when he was a kid, he probably had a couple other hobbies here and there than just tinkering

he seems like he'd be into pottery. seems? no he definitely was. he probably made vases for his mom and went looking for flowers to put in them or some shit

his drawing skills are..well they're definitely something! he can make a mean stick figure!

one time he showed jayce a stick figure that he titled "self portrait." jayce nearly choked on his coffee. he was coughing for a straight minute

definitely makes death jokes all the time, even before he's, with certainty, terminally ill

"what did you like to do as a kid?" "narrowly avoid multiple causes of demise <3" "vitya wtf"

microwave meal connoisseur. knows all the best brands for anything and everything that can be safely cooked in a microwave

probably (definitely) has a ramen closet at home

he definitely lives up to his zodiac (aries). will threaten to fight someone hes only just met and watch in glee as horror dawns on them that a disabled guy just told them with his whole chest, "you don't even have to go easy on me! you can break my bad leg first!"

and of course, he's kidding but he'll never say that

jayce and him remained comfortable after the hextech founding because jayce probably joked back some shit like, "its more efficient to take out your good one first"

viktor loves cats. viktor is allergic to cats. viktor gets a cat anyway (before things get really busy). he never doesn't have a handkerchief with him after that

I feel like if he were in the modern day, he'd be a fleetwood mac enjoyer. and also a korn ejoyer. all at once

and definitely has a collection of horror movies too

jayce is a huge fucking wimp about it while viktors like, "eh, I've seen worse decapitations"

that's all I got oops

[expectingtofly]

What It Means to Love, 3k

established dean/cas, hurt/comfort, post 15x20, human!cas

day 2 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: hurt/comfort

“Dean, I am perfectly fine, I—” Cas paused, face scrunching up, then he sneezed before he could finish his sentence.

Dean took a step backwards. “Dude, gross! Seriously? Sneeze into your elbow. That’s like preschool 101.”

“Oh, then it’s so great that I went to preschool,” Cas said, managing to sound sarcastic even with his nose stuffed up. Dean winced as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “It’s not like I haven’t been a human for only three months.”

Right. “Yeah, well, guess this is the perfect introduction." How the hell did Cas manage to still look so adorable slumped against the kitchen counter, clothes wrinkled and nose red? “Welcome to humanity, you have a cold. Here, stop that.” He couldn't watch Cas wipe his nose on his sleeve again. They didn’t have tissues in the kitchen, but he grabbed a napkin and handed it to him. Dutifully, Cas took it and blew his nose. “What you need is to get in some comfier clothes, lay down, and get some sleep.”

Violating the few feet he'd put between them to stay clear of the germs, he stepped closer to loosen Cas' tie. Cas let him, saying, "I can still help research—"

"No, no." Cas leveled him with a glare, but it had lost its bite now that Dean knew he couldn't strike him dead with his angel grace. Okay, it was still pretty menacing. "I'm trying to save your ass. Sam will kill you if you sneeze on his laptop or precious books. Come on, take off the coat, you gotta be burning up."

He was helping Cas slip it off when Sam walked into the kitchen. “Ew, gross," he complained, covering his eyes with his hand, and Dean realized he was essentially undressing Cas in front of the kitchen island. "Get a room."

"Grow up," Dean said, draping Cas' coat and tie over his arm. Okay, so maybe they’d given Sam a reason to be on-guard now, but, "It's not what it looks like."

Sam lowered his hand, then frowned at Cas. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"I'm sick," Cas answered, as if that wasn't obvious enough by his glassy eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Well, uh, wash your hands," Sam said, stepping back as Cas started for the door, Dean following. "Don't wanna spread any germs. And try to stay out of the library."

"Told you," Dean whispered to Cas as they went down the hallway. In their room, he gestured for Cas to sit on the bed as he rummaged through their dresser. “T-shirt and sweatpants,” he said, handing them over.

Cas unbuttoned his white button-down which was identical to the dress shirts he always wore as an angel. Apparently old habits died hard—in this case, an affinity for business casual. Actually, maybe Cas getting sick and out of his old clothes was a good thing. Dean didn't know the last time the trenchcoat had been washed.

Collecting Cas' shirt and pants, he said, “I’ll get rid of these disease-ridden clothes.” He thought he caught Cas rolling his eyes as he pulled Dean’s sweatshirt over his head. "You watch TV or something, I’ll go see if we have cold medicine.”

After starting a load of laundry and raiding the medicine cabinets in the bathroom and cabinets in the kitchen, he returned to the room to find Cas sitting cross-legged under the covers of the bed, remote in his hands.

“Here, you go,” Dean said, handing over a warm mug. Ancient Aliens played on the TV; one of Cas' favorite pastimes was refuting every crazy claim and theory the show presented with his own recollections of the ancient times. “Sam said this tea will help. He ran out to get some medicine.”

Eagerly, Cas took the mug from him and took a large gulp, then coughed. "Ow. It's hot."

"Drink it slowly, idiot."

Cas took a more hesitant sip, then squinted up at him. "This tea is incredibly flavorless."

Dean snorted. "’Cause your nose’s clogged up. And you probably burned your tongue. Another joy of being human."

Groaning, Cas dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Why is being human so difficult?"

Dean inwardly winced at that. Or thought he did so inwardly, but his expression must've revealed something because Cas glanced over at him, then straightened up, nearly spilling his tea. "Dean, I didn't mean anything by that."

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "No, it's fine. You're right, being human sucks."

"And I wouldn't trade it for the world," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Cas seemed about to say more, but then he sneezed. Into his elbow this time. Progress.

Ancient Aliens finished, and they got halfway through an episode of UFO Hunters before Cas started to nod off. Dean took the mug from him, and his eyes fluttered open, head jerking up. "I'm fine," he said.

"I know you're tired because you missed them saying aliens created the lost city of Atlantis."

Cas sniffled. "That's ridiculous. Everyone knows Atlantis was formed by—" He was interrupted by a yawn, and Dean made a mental note to return to that subject later.

“Come on, take a nap.”

“I am not a small child, Dean,” Cas protested, but he settled down anyway. Dean couldn’t resist adjusting the covers, essentially tucking him in. He wasn’t trying to baby him, but it was second nature seeing how miserable the guy looked. Turning off the lights, he went to the door. "You good? Need anything else?"

"No." Cas squinted one eye open to look at Dean over the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and, fuck, if he wasn't still the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen, even sick as a dog. "Thank you."

A tiny alarm went off in Dean's brain about germs, but he returned to the bed to kiss Cas on the forehead anyway. True love, and all that. God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Cas looked marginally better when he woke up from his nap. If marginally better meant pillow hair and pillow lines on his cheek. Well-rested, at least. He swallowed down the cold medicine Sam had brought home, complaining that he could taste enough to know the flavor was not, quote, "similar to anything occurring organically in nature."

"Whaddya wanna eat?" Dean asked him as he drained his glass of water. "And don't say PB and J," he added before Cas could speak.

Cas set his glass down on the nightstand and slid further down under the covers. "Anything that won't make my throat hurt more."

"My, uh, mom used to make me soup when I was sick."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Whatcha making?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and Dean snapped him with the towel.

"That's for Cas, back off."

"Wow," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Look at you."

"Look at me what?" Setting aside the pot lid, he scraped the celery he'd been dicing from the cutting board into the pot.

Sam shrugged. "Taking care of Cas, making dinner, you're almost domestic."

Dean turned red and scrambled furiously for a comeback. "Yeah, and you're, you're still a little shit." Nailed it.

Sam laughed. "Wasn't an insult. Just meant, I don't know. Different for you, I guess."

Dean eyed him, stirring the soup. "Don't have much of a choice. Poor guy just turned human and he's already going through it."

"I think he's dealt with worse than a cold before."

"Yeah, well, wish he didn't have to deal with any of it." Any of it meant plenty. Between Dean’s own fuckups, world apocalypses, and near-death and actual death experiences, Cas had been through the ringer several times over. And now he was human—which, by all counts, wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through, but it wasn’t ideal. It’d been a rough transition, anyway.

Cas seemed better recently, though, since getting somewhat used to being human. And things were going well between them. Getting sick was just one tiny wrinkle compared to everything they’d been through, right?

He stared at the soup and startled when Sam straightened off the counter with a comment that Jack was out with friends, he was leaving for Eileen’s, have fun giving Cas a sponge bath. Dean flipped him off as he headed out the door.

When the soup was finished, he ladled a bowl full and returned to the bedroom. Cas looked up from his phone when Dean entered with the bowl of steaming soup. “Hear from Claire?” Dean asked, nudging the door shut with his foot.

“She says she and Kaia have almost closed up the case." He set his phone aside. “They’ll be able to visit soon.”

“You tell her you’re sick?”

“She was incredibly non-sympathetic—thank you." Cas took the bowl from him. “She seemed to find it amusing that I once ruled garrisons and now can’t go five minutes without sneezing.”

Dean tensed, hoping Cas wasn’t hurt by the comparison, but Cas didn’t look offended. “Sounds like her.”

"Yes.” He breathed in the steam coming from the bowl. “This smells incredible.”

"Family recipe," Dean joked, sitting down next to him. "Well, someone's family. Straight from some blog online. Think it's pretty close to what my mom would make." He watched Cas pick up his spoon, and added, "Don't tell Sam." He'd never hear the end of it if Sam knew he was reading mommy blogs.

"Your secret is safe with me."

Dean picked up the remote as Cas ate, wondering if he should give Claire a piece of his mind. Sure, Cas was pretty easy-going about the whole giving up his grace thing, but no need to rub it in his face. Becoming human had to feel pretty pitiful after ages of being an angel.

He was trying to make it better where he could, though. “You wanna watch a movie tonight? I'll let you pick because you're bedridden."

"I am not," Cas protested, though he looked more than a little pleased at the idea of getting to choose. Dean braced himself for whatever ridiculous romance or musical Cas insisted on watching now—to date, he'd been subjected to La La Land , the ending of which had reduced Cas to tears for the rest of the night; Pride and Prejudice, okay not too bad, though he'd never admit it; and You’ve Got Mail, dammit not bad enough for him to hate either.

Instead of suggesting a movie, though, Cas said, "You're very caring, Dean."

"Uh." Dean turned from cycling through the movie options on the TV to look at Cas. He felt himself turn red under the look Cas was giving him, head tilted, that fond almost-smile he got. "Yeah, uh. What I do."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "It is what you do. You're very good at taking care of others."

"Oh, God, don't start that." By that, he meant the long compliments Cas so shamelessly gave him now, like he'd been storing them up for a long time and was finally able to hand them out. It was like the dam had broken that night when Billie and the Empty—

But he didn't want to think about that. Not when all the events since that day had led to Cas now sitting in bed blowing his nose, the trashcan by the bed overflowing with tissues. Poor bastard; he'd gone through one whole Kleenex box already.

"I'm only going to stop because talking hurts too much," Cas told him, tossing a tissue at the trashcan and missing sorely. Dean grimaced.

They nearly got through Mama Mia before Cas dozed off, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Dean’s arm was half-asleep, but he refused to move. The mere fact that they were sitting together in bed, pressed against each other, was still enough to send him into shock anytime he thought about it too much. Cas—a literal former angel—had fallen in love with him. It was almost too good to be true.

But Cas was currently slumped against him, drooling on his shoulder, so he guessed it really was true.

As the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and touched Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Not as warm as before. At his touch, Cas blinked awake.

“It’s over already?”

“Whaddya mean, already? I just had to sit through two hours of singing and dancing.” It hadn’t been that torturous, but he couldn’t admit that—he had a reputation to uphold. Straightening, Cas rolled his eyes. “Feel any better?"

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful, as if taking stock of every physical sensation in his body, and Dean had to grin at his seriousness. He nodded. "Yes."

"Great.” He glanced at the time on the clock and realized it was later than he’d expected. “You probably wanna get some rest.”

Cas nodded with a yawn. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to."

Dean froze in the middle of pulling back the covers, mind immediately spinning out. "What?" They'd only started sharing a room a month ago, oh God, he'd known it was too good to be true, Cas was sick of him—

"I want you to," Cas said quickly, as if sensing Dean's downward spiraling. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Oh. Oh. Feeling a little sheepish for immediately jumping to the worst conclusions—one of his greatest talents, if he did say so himself—he shook his head. "Nah, I have a great immune system."

Cas' expression turned guilty and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"About that..." Cas started slowly. Dean gave him a look. "Well, uh... Your immune system isn't quite as healthy as you think. I've been giving it a boost for the past several years, every time you started to get sick."

"What?" Looking back, it was pretty remarkable that he'd never gotten even a common cold with all the other shit they dealt with. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I should be thanking you. So, uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Of course Cas had been taking care of him for years, Dean thought, when they settled in bed and he turned off the lights. Cas told him he was caring, but it was Cas who was the caring one. He’d sacrificed his life for him, for Christ’s sake. Then gave up his grace to return to Earth because he wanted to be with Dean and Jack and Sam and everyone. The guy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The thought should’ve been a comforting one, but instead he felt antsy, unable to stay still, shifting under the blankets.

Turning onto his side, he nudged Cas, whose eyes had fallen shut. With a grunt, Cas opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You alright?” Dean asked, which wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I was when I was falling asleep,” Cas grumbled. But he shifted to face Dean. In the faint light coming from the bunker hallway, Dean could see the concern in his eyes. It sent a pang through him. Cas had given up so much, and Dean was doing all he could to make sure he never regretted it, and Cas told him all the time that he was content with his choice, but still the worry sat heavy in his stomach.

"Listen,” he started. “I just wanna let you know that being human isn’t all bad. I swear it won’t be miserable forever. I know you've been introduced to the bad shit first, but—"

"That's not true," Cas interrupted, touching Dean’s hand resting between them. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dean, being human has been the single most rewarding experience in my entire life second only to raising Jack. It started with you rescuing me from the Empty and revealing my feelings weren't unreciprocated like I thought. I would say that's far from miserable.”

"Yeah, but you had to adjust to living without your grace, and eating food, and getting sick..."

"It's been difficult, yes. I won't lie and say I enjoy bodily functions or sneezing or headaches. But I do enjoy being with you and eating chicken soup and watching absurd TV shows. I wouldn't change this for anything. Whatever happened in our lives, it led us here. And I’m happy with where we are.” He studied Dean for a moment before asking, quieter, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Dean hastened to say, because it was true. Fuck, it couldn’t be truer. “Of course. Just feel bad, I guess. That you gave up your grace and all that. Feel like I’ve hardly done anything.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. And anyway, it’s not a competition, Dean. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what love is.”

Throwing that word around, love, still made Dean’s heart skip a beat. But it was true. He loved Cas and he’d do anything for him. The same, he knew, was true on Cas’ end.

Cas said it best, so he settled for lifting Cas’ hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I would kiss you," Cas said, smiling, "but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Screw it," Dean said, and propped himself up on an elbow to kiss him. Then he shifted, turning over and pulling Cas’ arm to wrap around him. Even if the bastard was sick, Dean was making him be the big spoon.

"For the record,” he said, feeling Cas curl around him. “I wouldn't change anything either."

And he meant it. Even when he woke up the next morning with a sore throat and stuffed up nose. Cas—who seemed to have gotten over the worst of his cold—took only one look at him before declaring it was his turn to play doctor, throwing extra blankets at him and demanding the chicken soup recipe in a flurry of activity.

He’d take care of Cas, and Cas would take care of him. It sounded like a good life, Dean thought, settling back against the pillows with a smile. He wouldn't change a thing.

[heavenunderthemoon]

Dollface

Summary: After the death of her two brother, reader feels as though she must become the perfect child. She reaches her breaking point at a night at Rossi’s. 

Warnings: mentions of suicide, depression, angst Your fingers grabbed at another stray hair, a desperate attempt to make an escape as you smoothed the rest into a nice, sleek ponytail. Grabbing it, you tucked it under the hair tie, breathing deeply through your nose as you stared back at the reflection.

You didn't like staring into the mirror. Staring into the mirror meant seeing your eyes, a rather odd statement when you really thought about it, but the reason you hated it all the same. You had to stare into those brown orbs, brown orbs you had inherited from your mother, and ones she had passed down not only to you, but to Ethan as well.

Ethan.

The name sent a shiver through your body.

He had passed just when you both had turned nine. He had been struggling for a while, ever since you could remember actually. For years, you had accompanied him on doctor appointments, consults after consults. Alex Blake was no quitter, and she had fought tooth and nail to find someone- anyone- to save her boy. In the end she hadn't succeeded. He had passed in his bed, only a couple feet away from you. Sometimes you could still hear her sobs, her wails of agony after she had found him, a mother losing her son, her baby. Sometimes it felt as though you had lost her that day too.

You forced the tips of your mouth to lean upward, the motion looking so foreign on your face that you couldn't help but stare. A smile. A true smile. When was the last time you had one of those? You recalled the time before Ethan started presenting symptoms, a time before his illness, before the unrelenting sadness that ran rampant throughout your house. Before your mother was driven insane, a linguist unable to name the one thing she hated so much, the one thing that took away one of her children. Before your father ran off, escaping to different countries under the guise of Doctors Without Borders. You knew why he really took that position, that he was so driven by his grief of losing Ethan that he ran off to find children he actually could save. And your mother? She didn't get much better. When she had lost Ethan she had lost a part of herself you weren't quite sure she would ever get back. A carefree, laid-back part of her, one that wouldn't run to the emergency room every time you had a cough. One that wouldn't demand an MRI every time you needed a physical checkup. One that didn't watch you so closely, close enough that you could feel her stare on you, whenever you played on the playground with the other children. Before the stares were less loving, more analytical, and every goodbye felt like your last.

Your lips dropped down, eyes remaining on yourself.

Nothing was wrong with you of course, but your mother could never be sure. Losing one child was enough, the fear of losing her second drove her over the edge.

And so, you played along.

You pretended you didn't want to play baseball with the kids in the neighborhood, taking a liking to books instead. You pretended you didn't want to go out, or play in the rain, or step in puddles, or touch frogs. Childhood was non-existent, and for you, that was just how it had to be, because you didn't want to drive her mother any madder than she already was.

Your hands dropped to your sides, smoothing the sides of your pants with your hands, a nervous tick, but comforting nonetheless.

An evening at Rossi's. The invitation alone was enough to make you want to scream.

As awful as it sounded, you hated when your mother was home. Since you had turned seventeen, you were trusted enough to stay home alone when your mother was out on cases, so long as you FaceTimed every night and the neighbors could check on you in the morning. And, with your father away you were left to your own devices. You relished in the feeling of being alone. You liked being able to emerge from your room without that heaviness dragging you down, the weight of your mother's morbid stare, the one that made you think that perhaps you were dying and you just didn't know it, enough to make you feel an onslaught of loneliness. When your mother was gone, you were able to watch tv with the volume all the way up, or order pizzas with extra cheese. You could let the dishes pile up and leave the laundry to fester.

And then when your mother came home it felt like everything in the air was sucked up all over again. Like all the walls were caving in, the world was ending, and once more you were dying.

"Y/N! Time to go!"

You glanced at yourself one more time. Clothes ironed perfectly, a crisp button down tucked into a pleated skirt, hair pinned and proper. A doll. A perfect little doll ready to be played with.

You turned off the bathroom light, grabbing your purse.

"Coming, Mother."

-

"My mom speaks very highly of you all, it's nice to finally meet you." You spoke with a sense of tranquility that the team wasn't quite expecting. Though, to be honest, they weren't precisely sure what to expect when they had caught wind that Alex was finally bringing her daughter to an event. Typically, you were too busy.

Studying for school, babysitting for children around the neighborhood, getting ahead in your classes, attending chess club, book club, anything and everything that had made their lips part, eyebrows furrowing because you were just a child but the way she spoke about you made you seem so...refined. Independent. Not a child.

Your peers had said the same things- behind your back, of course. You didn't have many friends. Being the perfect child didn't give you much time to make those, and you weren't good at it anyways. The teachers had always praised you, admiring you for your perfectionism. Your straight A's, good temperament, and ability to surpass the school's curriculum had you earning your teachers' result rather quickly but it had soon turned to sympathy. They had begun to notice how your posture was always straight, how your pens were always in alignment, how you never spoke unless answering an academic question.

Sometimes, they would watch you, just to see if you would suddenly sneeze and ruin that perfect mirage that you displayed to the world. But you never did, not really. You were a doll. You were picture perfect and they had previously found that quality a little endearing but now they just felt pity, because how many times had that doll felt like she wasn't enough in order to make it appear as so?

Met with enthusiasm, you smiled along as the night progressed, making light conversation with your mother's team. They were nice enough, and you tried not to let along how painful your smiles began to be. It wasn't long before you had excused yourself to a smaller room, bringing out the school work you had brought along to get out of the way.

it was an art project, your least favorite subject. Art, your teacher had stated, is an expression of emotion. There were no rules, no tips, no studying to help you along. Either you had it, or you didn't. You definitely did not.

The noise of the party chattered against your brain as your teeth began their assault against your lip, biting down hard as your eraser grated against the paper once more. With a frustrated grunt, you tried again, the circle coming out just as uneven as the last time.

Spencer must've noticed you out on the patio by yourself. He excused himself from the party, approaching you slowly.

"Hey."

You knew he was being nice. He was mingling and from what you mother had told you about him he didn't do it often so you were trying your very best to not snap at him, your agitation at an all time high due to the failure of your art project.

"Hello."

Your eyes were still on your paper, trying to salvage something- anything- from this artwork but it was futile. Every time you added something it made it worse and every time you removed something it looked empty and you were beginning to get frustrated. You hated art, you wanted to drop it, but it was a requirement. A stupid, useless class, in your opinion (though maybe it was biased due to your inability to do it). Your heart rate quickened at the thought of getting anything lower than an A on this piece. Your grade was already at a 92, that in itself was enough to make your head spin but what if you got a B on this work and it brought your overall grade down? What if you received your first ever B? What would your mother say then?

Spencer was watching you with curious eyes. He saw a bit of himself in you ever since you had arrived, though that isn't all a good thing. He saw an intelligent, capable girl who put far too much pressure on himself. A girl who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. A girl who refused to ask for help.

And now, your breaths becoming ragged and eyes unfocused, he saw you, really saw you. Your eraser was grinding against there paper and in your anger it ripped it, your lips parting at the action. As bad as it had been this was even worse because now you sound have to start over.

Starting over meant setting you back at least three days in work and you were supposed to have this assignment done by tonight to get ahead for other classes tomorrow.

"Y/N? Y/N you need to breathe, take a break from you're homework, it's okay-"

You had forgotten that Spencer was there in all honesty, but now that he was speaking you whipped toward him.

The words seemed to cut through you like a knife and you shot an incredulous look at the man. "Okay? It's not okay! I can't take a break because I needed to get it done by tonight! I need to write a paper and get ahead in physics so that I can make time for babysitting, and attend lectures, and sit in on mom's classes and-"

Your hands were balled now, clenching into fists and Spencer was reaching for them.

"Look at me, take a breath-"

"This stupid art project, it didn't look good-"

"It looked fine-" Spencer tried, and he could tell that the two of you were attracting attention now because he could feel eyes flitting to the back door windows and he knew for certain that Alex would be here soon but none of it seemed to register for you because your eyes were far too panicked and cheeks too flushed.

"It can't be just fine, it needs to be perfect!" You broke. Your voice was louder than you had ever used with an adult and if you weren't  so far gone in your breakdown you surely would've apologized. The eraser in your hand dropped, fists unclenching to cover your ears because your thoughts were too loud. They were always too loud. Constant planning, scheduling ahead. Worries about your parents, your reputation, your next step. It came crashing over you.

Later, you would realize you were sobbing but for now, you were left to wonder why your throat was so sore.

"Y/N, you need to breathe, okay? Breathe. It doesn't need to be perfect, you're okay-"

Alex was relieving Spencer, and he retreated back into the house with a reassuring nod from Alex. The team sent worried looks, but looked away to give the two of you privacy. You hardly even noticed the change.

"Hey." Alex was taking your hands from your ears, eyes wide. She had never seen you like this, never seen you so distraught and it scared her. It terrified her to see you in such a state because, clearly, you weren't okay and you hadn't been for a while and how did she miss this? It scared her because ever since she could remember you had been such an easy child. A child who didn't ask for help, a child who didn't cry, who didn’t yell, who didn't ask for things. And was that a result of her?

"Hey, look at me. Look at me." Her finger was going under your chin, forcing it upward, forcing your eyes on hers and she was accentuating her breaths, making you take them with her. "What's going on, hm? Whats' going on, talk to me."

Maybe it was the softness in her tone, or the woe in your eyes, or maybe it was just exhaustion from constantly trying to be...everything and anything your mother could ask for, but you chose to tell the truth.

"I have to be perfect." And it was quiet. You could hear the water fountain somewhere far to your left, something Rossi apparently had put in two years ago, but you couldn't see it over the hedges. Alex rose a brow, not understanding and so you continued.  "I have to be perfect...for you."

And the Blake woman was gasping because how could her daughter even think that? How could she not see that her daughter was thinking that? "Honey, no-"

But you weren't letting her finish. "Yes, I do. I have to be the perfect child because you lost the other one. And I," You swallowed, sighing softly. "I can't be him for you."

"W-what?"

"Ever since he died I- he-...you were different. You and Dad both were, and I just wanted to make you happy so I tried to be good, I tried to be the best kid so that you wouldn't feel any sadder than you did."

"Oh, baby, you didn't have to do that-"

"Yes I did. When he died it was like every time you looked at me I was already dead I just didn't know it.  I've been dead for years. I think I might've died with him."

And you were breathing steadily now. You chest wasn't as tight, your mind wasn't as foggy but now your eyes were filled with tears. You cried because you had wanted to say these words for so long, you had wanted your mother back for an eternity snd now she was listening, now you were going to surrender yourself to imperfection.

"I never meant to make you feel like that, please-"

The tears fell across your cheeks, splayed out like a beautiful painting, a masterpiece created by you, a girl who thought that she was a horrible artist. Perhaps you weren't as horrible as you thought.

"I wish it was me instead of him. Because I can't take it. I can't keep doing this-"

Alex was shaking her head, gripping your cheeks in her hands now, because the words you were saying made it sound like she might lose you, made it sound like you might just dissolve under her touch. And all she felt right now was dread. "Don't say that."

"The classes, the perfectionism, I'm...I'm just so tired."

"Baby, please. I'm, I'm so sorry." And that thought entered your mind once more, that perhaps you were a wonderful little artists because kneeling before you now was a tragically beautiful piece of art. A grieving mother, wet cheeks piling up by the minute, eyes filled with some kind of morose morbidity and that was something you had created.

"I'm a perfect little girl in a perfect little house. We all play pretend that Ethan didn't exist-"

"Y/N Y/M/N." Alex was trying, begging you to stop because it hurt. It pained her because Ethan died of something no one knew about but you? You were dying because of her.

"It's alright. I'm just so tired of all the pretending. I wish Ethan and I could swap places, because then he could be playing pretend and I can just...relax."

Where to go from here? The two of you sat on that patio under the watch of the stars, under the protection of the moonlight. What might happen when the sun touched your faces once more?

You doll wasn't so perfect anymore. Perhaps she would never be again.

TAGLIST: @bubblyabs @spencer-blake-supremacy 

[zevlors-tail]

Rooftops

Pairing: ProHero!Deku x Reader

Description: Sometimes being a Hero isn’t just fighting villains and rescuing people from burning buildings; sometimes it’s battling demons and rescuing people from themselves instead.

Warnings: Suicidal reader, thoughts of suicide, attempted suicide? (reader doesn’t succeed), trauma bonding, mentions of bullying, little bit of touch starvation? Talks of therapy, decision to try therapy.

A/N: I guess you could say I needed to vent some heavy things. PLEASE do not read this if you are triggered by anything mentioned above. Also, I HC that Midoriya never would have gone through with it, but he might have at one point been in the reader’s position, and I wish they would expand on how what Katsuki said and did to him in middle school affected his life more. I will never be satisfied until we get a proper apology from Bakugou and the two of them sort out their feelings about it, bc you KNOW that had to create some trauma. So I guess this might be sort of a fix-it fic? Also, I’m sorry for the ending, it might be cringe, idk. I can’t help but add fluff to everything I write, apparently. I love Best Boi, what can I say?

You breathed in the cool night air as you leaned against the railing, fingers trembling slightly against the rusty metal. Everything seemed so surreal; the noisy traffic below, the people bustling down streets and alleyways, the dimmed apartment lights from the building across... What did any of it matter? In the grand scheme of things, you were just a small spec of the universe observing all these phenomenons, a waste of space taking up time that could belong to something or someone more useful than your sorry excuse of an existence. That’s what you thought, at least.

You leaned a little farther over and rested your chest against the bars of steel. Would anyone miss you if you were to just...disappear? If you dropped everything and left right now, would anyone care? Would anyone cry for your absence? These were questions you had asked yourself over and over again, and each time you had managed to convince yourself that maybe, just maybe, the answer was yes, someone would care. But each time the questions rolled around in your head, it got harder to convince yourself of that. You found doubts in every corner of your mind, in every crack and crevice of your brain that they could slink into. Quiet at first, but now as loud as a siren, they overwhelmed you and made you believe you were worthless. They beat you down, exhausted you, claimed your once happy spirit and soiled it with numbness and apathy. Those doubts were the reason you wholeheartedly believed that you no longer mattered to anyone.

They were also the reason you were twenty stories up in the air on the roof of your apartment building.

Steeling your nerves and taking a deep breath, you let everything sink in. This was what you were waiting for all these years. All of your life had lead up to this single moment; all of your past mistakes, all of your life decisions, all of the lost friends, your job, your family and their snide remarks, your short comings...and all the rest. It didn’t matter. Every time you blinked, every sneeze, every laugh, whether genuine or fake, didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, including you.

Nothing matters, and no one cares.

And with that final thought, you hoisted yourself up and over the railing, limbs heavy with a dull numbness as you planted your feet loosely on the other side. For a second you balanced yourself, arms outstretched behind you to grip on to the bars for one last fleeting sense of security. Just one more step. But even as you moved forward, you found that your hands seemed to tighten their grip on the steel, and suddenly you felt physical panic despite your mind telling you that this was what you really wanted. It seemed your body was defying your mind.

“I don’t think you want to do that.”

Startled, you stumbled back and tightened your hold on the rails until your knuckles turned white. Were you imagining things, or did you just hear a voice? And if so, who was it and what were they doing all the way up here? Whatever their business was though, it surely had nothing to do with you, right? So why were they meddling in your affairs when you just wanted to be left alone? The thought of it was just a little too much, and you found yourself snapping at whoever was behind you.

“Uh, yeah, I think I do.” It came out more spiteful than you meant it to sound. But then, that was just how you were these days...bitter and cold. All the more reason to end everything.

“Please, just come back over here to the other side of the railing. We can talk if you want, or I can just sit with you, or we can listen to music together if that would help?” The stranger’s voice was gentle and pleading, as if he was afraid to break you if he spoke too loud. 

“Just leave me alone! Why do you care anyway?” You stole a glance behind you to get a good look at the person trying to talk you down. The first thing you noticed was the green hair, and then the pair of concerned emerald eyes reflecting back at you. Under those were a set of freckles, giving him an overall boyish look, and finally- his costume. You recognized Japan’s Number One Hero, Deku.

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt...or worse.” His tone was solemn. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave you alone up here. Clearly you had one purpose for coming up here, and I’m not going to let you go through with it.”

For a moment, you felt your heart soar at the possibility that someone cared after all. But just as hope was about to take root and bloom within your chest, it seemed that your mind had other ideas to cut the poor blossom out. As fast as the feeling settled, it was gone, and you reminded yourself that this was his job; he was required to help anyone who he thought might be in trouble. It wasn’t like he really wanted to be up here talking to you.

“What the hell do you know about why I’m up here? And anyways...it’s your job to save people. You don’t have to pretend to care about me. It doesn’t matter if you’re the number one hero or not, you’re still going to forget about me some day or another. A week from now you won’t even think twice about me. I’m forgettable. I don’t matter...not really. So please just leave me be. You’re bothering me.” No matter how hard you tried to keep the anger in your voice, you couldn’t help how it faded with each passing second. It was tiring to keep feeling everything and nothing all at once. You wanted it all to just stop.

There was long moment of silence that passed between the two of you, which you took as a sign that you had been right about everything you had just said. Your anxieties and nerves were starting to get to you by then; you were about to really go through with it and had inched forward slightly when he decided to speak again. 

“Once, someone told me to take a swan dive off the roof of my old school.” Your breath hitched as you stopped in your tracks. “I know what it’s like not to be wanted or needed by everyone around you. To feel like a failure, like there’s no hope left... Like you’re not worth saving. But even if you really think and believe all those things you said about yourself, just know that I care. And it’s not because it’s my job to, or because I’m a Pro Hero, or because I just happened to be in the area and saw you up here after my shift ended. It’s because at one point in my life, I could relate to where you are now.”

You were left without words for once as you stood there, wind whipping through your hair and eyes focused on nothing in particular. After the initial shock wore off, you finally turned around to face him. You searched his eyes for any trace of deception, anything to prove that maybe he was lying or just trying to get to you, but all you could find was sincere honesty. And Deku, upon seeing you turn around from the edge of the building, seemed to tense for a second before continuing.

“I climbed up to the top of the school roof that day and when I got up there, I just...stared down. All I could think about at the time was making the pain and the numbness go away. But then I thought of my mom’s face when she would hear the news...and I thought of how I would only be a statistic after that- a number, you know, like the ones I recorded every day in my notebook. But I didn’t want that. I had a name that I loved, a mother waiting for me at home, and a dream I was still holding on to. I realized what I really wanted was to prove everyone wrong, to still become the hero I wanted to be as a little boy. And even more than that, I just wanted the pain to stop. I think that’s what people truly want- just to feel better.” He gave you a small smile and offered a hand to you after that, and you swore his eyes were glistening a little if you looked close enough. “I would care if you were gone. I would think about it every day. I don’t even know your name, but your face is already engraved in my mind. I would have made the biggest mistake of my life had I ended things that day; look at where I am now! If I let someone else take away all their future opportunities and potential life experiences knowing that I could have stopped them, knowing that I didn’t offer them the support I desperately wanted when I was going through it, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“...you mean that?” You couldn’t help the tremble in your voice.

“Every word. Please, just come back over to this side and talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I promise I’ll do my best to help however I can.”

Something pulled at your heartstrings as you listened to him. He had put into words everything you had been feeling these past few months, everything you wanted to express but just couldn’t. Tentatively, you reached out a hand to meet his, and he wasted no time as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and hoisted you back over the railing towards safety and into his arms.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed out. His arm was still wound tight around your waist as he pulled you flush to him and walked you backwards. When the two of you reached the wall of the entryway to the rooftop, he stopped and slid down to the floor with you, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his lips. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again.” You blinked back tears as you leaned into Deku’s tight hug, your arms coming up to wrap around him as well. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so loving and caring with you or the last time you had been hugged like this. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

That was all it took for the dam inside of you to burst.

Hot tears finally spilled over and soaked Deku’s costume as all the emotions you had been suppressing came back full force. You hid your face in his shirt to try and stifle your cries as much as you could, but it was no use. There was no hiding the turmoil in your soul; all you could do was endure the sadness and frustration while he held you and comforted you. Slowly the reality of the situation started to sink in, and the realization that you almost took your own life hit you full force.

“I...I almost-!” You didn’t have the strength to finish your sentence as you sobbed harder and shook in the hero’s arms. He eventually shifted the two of you around to a more comfortable position and rubbed circles on your shoulder soothingly while you cried, a look of understanding and empathy in his eyes.

“But you didn’t. And you know what that tells me? That despite all those lies you’re telling yourself, there’s still a part of you left that wants to live. There’s still a part of you, no matter how small, that’s holding on to hope that things will get better. Find that feeling deep down inside you, grasp it, and never let go of it. You deserve to exist here. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to wake up each day and live and enjoy life. And I know you probably don’t feel that way right now, but believe me when I say that it’s the truth.” A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you took a moment to contemplate his words.

“You said we could talk if I wanted to...” you sniffled.

“Sure, we can talk. It doesn’t even have to be about anything in particular. Whatever you want to talk about, I’ll listen.”

So you told him everything. You poured your heart out to someone who was no more than a stranger to you, even if you recognized his face because it was plastered on every poster and broadcasted on every T.V. Even if you knew who Deku was, the person behind the mask was someone else entirely, and it brought a sense of comfort to you to know that a real person was listening to your troubles and caring about them. For once, someone was taking the time to make you a priority, and that was not something you were used to.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably tired of listening to me by now. I can’t believe I dumped all of that on y-” you tried to apologize, but he shook his head and cut you off before you could finish.

“Don’t be. I offered, didn’t I? I genuinely want to hear about what’s troubling you. Everyone deserves to be listened to, especially when they’re hurting. You’re important, and what you have to say is also important. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

You blinked up at him with wide eyes. How was he so good at this? A thought crossed your mind then, and you wondered for a brief moment if...had anyone ever listened to him? He had taken the time to calm you down and make you feel important by listening wholeheartedly to everything you had to say. The least you could do was return the favor, right?

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good listener?” you asked, a small but sincere smile on your face.

“Yes, actually. Plenty of times, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it. It just means I’m succeeding at making others feel important, which is what I aim to do, so thank you for that.” He stared up at the night sky, his eyes reflecting the sparkling stars above. They were...so full of life. You found that fact inspiring.

There was a small pause before you asked him another question, hesitance evident in your voice. “Have you...told anyone? About what you said to me earlier, I mean.” It came out more awkward than you intended it to, and he seemed confused about what you were trying to ask.

“About what I said to you earlier?”

“Y-You know, the...rooftop...” you trailed off, not wanting to pry if he didn’t want to talk about it after all. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed since you mentioned it earlier that maybe you wanted to talk about it or something- Ah, I’m making things worse, I’m really sorry!” You ran your hands through your hair, anxiety getting the better of you and making your heart race. Deku shifted slightly beside you but kept his arm around your shoulders, a look of understanding coming over him.

“Oh, that?” He gave a small airy laugh. “While I appreciate the concern, I have a really great therapist. It’s kind of a requirement for Pros; we deal with a lot on the job.”

“...oh.” Oh. Oh. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but certainly not...that. “Again, I’m sorry if I pried,” you apologized one last time. At the sound of your third ‘I’m sorry’, Deku looked over at you thoughtfully.

“You know, I used to apologize a lot too. Actually, my therapist was the one who got me to kick the bad habit. Speaking of which...” He reached into one of the red pouches on his costume belt and produced a single card between his index and middle finger, the lamination of it emitting a dim glare as he held it out to you. “I think you could really benefit from therapy. I’m not saying that to be rude or anything-!” His face flushed as he tried to explain himself; he didn’t want you to feel like he was dismissing you or that he wasn’t concerned with your issues. “I swear! I just...really think you could use another person in your corner right now. They’re super nice, I promise! I’ll even help you set up an appointment if you want.”

You shrunk a little at the idea of seeing a therapist, but took the card anyway. The writing on the little piece of plastic stared back at you menacingly, an uncomfortable feeling settling in your gut.

Dr. T/N T/L/N Deku Agency Specialist in Psychology Phone: 800-888-8880 Email (Mon-Fri): T/nT/l/n@deku.agencies.com Office Hours: Mon-Sat, 9am-5pm

As if he could read your turbulent mind, Deku pulled you closer and rested his head against yours. “I know talking to someone else about your problems seems scary at first, but it really helps. If you keep everything bottled up, then those feelings and problems don’t have anywhere to go, and they’ll eat you up on the inside. Therapy gives you a safe way of letting those feelings out and sorting through problems in healthy ways. Of course it’s ultimately your choice, and everybody’s experience differs...but it did help me.”

You considered everything he said, including his offer to help schedule an appointment. If nothing else, you could really use another friend... You pocketed the card and decided to worry about it later; exhaustion was starting to settle in by now, and the air only seemed to get colder by the minute. It had to be past midnight by now.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done. It means a lot to me, truly. I’ll...think about the therapist.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. But in the mean time, can I see your phone?” The question caught you off guard and forced you back to the reality of where you were, and what you’d planned to do earlier.

“Uh, well...” you started, “I left it in my apartment. I didn’t think I’d need it up here since... Anyway, I don’t have it on me.” You stared off to the side, not wanting to talk about the subject any longer.

“Do you live around here?”

“Yeah, actually, I live in this apartment building.”

“Oh! Then, I’ll walk with you back to your apartment, since it’s getting kind of cold now. But first...” He whipped out his own phone, opening the contacts app and clicking on the ‘Create New Contact’ option. “What’s your phone number?”

“My phone number?” You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, so I can text you and call you. I’d like to be friends, if that’s okay?” He gave you a shy smile with a faint blush, and it was hard not to burst into tears again.

A friend. You had made a new friend. One that cared about you, that wanted to make sure you were okay, that would put in time and effort to talk to you and see you. You could hardly believe it.

“Really?”

“Of course! Sooo, can I have it, then? Oh, and I guess I’ll need your name at some point too, huh?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“It’s Y/N,” you stated happily.

You immediately gave your number to him, and then the two of you stood to go back inside. He helped you up and held the door open for you, and from there you took the stairs back to your apartment. You made small talk on the way back, and things finally started to feel normal to you for once. But as soon as you turned down the hall that led to your apartment door, you started to feel it; that familiar sinking feeling was creeping in, apathy and the sense of nothingness overwhelming you again. The night was finally coming to an end. You would go back to your apartment, and things would go back to normal, and Deku would probably forget that you even existed. He said he would text, but would he really? He was so busy with hero work, and you half expected things to go back to the way they would be. What if nothing changed? What if you went back to feeling numb? What if everything that happened tonight didn’t really matter? What would you do?

“Whoah, Y/N, slow down. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Huh? Shit! Had you said all that out loud?

You panicked as you stared at your door. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Hey, look at me.” He cupped your face between his hands, tilting your head up to meet his concerned gaze. “Everything will be okay. But these kinds of problems don’t just disappear over night, they need time, and sometimes some outside help from others. I promise to keep in touch with you. I want to make sure you’re okay, and I’d like to get to know you better too. Maybe I can introduce you to my friends? They’re really great people, and they would make you feel right at home. But for now, let’s just focus on one thing, okay? Let’s get you settled back into your apartment for the night.” He ruffled the top of your head softly, and while others might have taken the gesture as offensive or belittling, you were just glad to have felt his warm touch.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, and you twisted the handle to the door, which you remembered you had left unlocked.

The small apartment greeted you with familiar darkness, that is, until Deku flipped your light switch and the few lamps you had lit up the living room. He let himself in and shut the door behind the two of you, earning a surprised look from you and giving you an apologetic look of his own. “I don’t mean to intrude...I just...” He looked like he was choking over his own words. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to let you be alone right now...but if you want me to leave, then-”

“I don’t want to be alone either,” you were quick to cut him off. You had wanted to invite him to stay, but you also didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, it seemed like he beat you to the punch. “I don’t mind you staying. Besides, it’s late, and you look tired. The couch pulls out into a bed; let me get you some extra blankets.” 

You tried your best to be hospitable, even with him insisting that you didn’t need to and that he could just crash in the comfy clothes he wore under his costume. You didn’t have any extra clothes for him, but at least you could give him a pillow and a blanket. As you went to fetch those, you also grabbed your phone from your desk and dropped it next to him on the makeshift bed. He took the liberty of entering his phone number and his real name into your contacts before passing it back.

“No way, you like All Might too?” he asked as you handed him the themed blanket. “This is the same exact blanket I have at home!” A wide grin came over him as he cuddled into it.

His enthusiasm made you laugh a little as you tossed him the pillow. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You started to walk away to your bedroom, and as you were about to turn the lights out, he stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Did you need something?”

He peeked his head over the edge of the couch. “I just realized I never gave you my name. You can call me Izuku, if you want. Since, we’re friends now, and all.”

“Izuku,” you echoed, “I’m really glad I met you.” And you meant it.

“Yeah, me too.” A moment of silence. “That I met you, I mean! I’m glad I met you too!”

You smiled and turned the lights out. “I’m gonna head to bed.” You hesitated a bit to ask him the question burning at the back of your mind, but your anxiety forced you to ask anyway, the fear of not knowing eating at you. “Will you still be here tomorrow morning?”

He answered you right away and gave you a reassuring look. “I’m off work tomorrow, and I don’t have any plans, so I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me to.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Izuku.” 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding for so long, and with that, you made your way to your bedroom and changed into your favorite pajamas. The card that Izuku had given you earlier dropped to the floor while you were changing, and you picked it up carefully before reading it over again. Maybe...it was worth a shot. You had a lot you were dealing with, and the idea that you could talk to someone about it without being judged or made fun of almost sounded too good to be true. Sure, you had Izuku now, but you knew realistically he wasn’t going to be around all the time. You were tired of feeling like you were always alone, tired of feeling everything and nothing all at once, tired in general. It was all so exhausting. And he had said the therapist was nice...

You crawled into bed with your phone and pulled the covers over yourself. The home screen lit up the room as you opened your contacts and scrolled, looking for one name in particular. You tapped on his name and the familiar conversation screen appeared, the little vertical line blinking at you repeatedly as you worked up the courage to type out your message. Finally, your fingers flew across the keys, and you hit send before you could think twice about it.

Y/N: I think I want to schedule an appointment with the therapist. Can you help? 1:34am

It didn’t take long for you to get a response.

Izuku: Of course. I can contact them tomorrow, if you’d like? 1:34am

Y/N: I’d like that a lot. Thank you, Izuku. 1:35am

Izuku: Are you alright? If you need anything, come get me. I won’t mind. 1:35am

Y/N: I really appreciate that. I’m doing a little better. I’ll let you know if I need something. 1:35am

Izuku: Promise? 1:35am

Y/N: I promise. 1:36am

[puppywritings]

you make it feel like christmas - kim doyoung x gender-neutral reader 

⇢   synopsis: when you entered your job a few years ago, you found your best friend, doyoung. the two of you were partners-in-crime, platonic soulmates. however, during a drunken phone call with doyoung’s mother, she catches the wrong idea and invites you to spend christmas with their family… as doyoung’s partner. ever the mama’s boy, doyoung doesn’t want to disappoint her. and you? you’re counting down the days until you can stop this lovers pretence and slap your best friend upside the head.

⇢   word count: 5.6k ⇢   trigger warnings: alcohol use resulting in minor memory loss, swearing, slight suggestive references. this piece is suitable for all audiences! 

⇢   a/n: this is my piece for @pastelsicheng​ and @dearyongs​‘ a taste of winter collab. quick disclaimer that doyoung’s family in this fic may not represent his real life family situation, however this is a work of fiction and isn’t meant to mirror real life. i don’t know doyoung, nor do i know his mother, and the characters represented in this writing are fictitious versions of them. furthermore, the christmas traditions depicted in this story are mainly based on my own experiences celebrating the holidays in england.

⇢   taglist: @hunjins​ @ahgase55g7​ @mmoondance​ @notnctu​ @orange-nimon-cross​ @yeoshwa​ @infnteen​ @neonun-au​ @luvlala​ @neo-shitty​ @yutacrush​ @ethaeriyeol​ @fairyinaflowercrown​ @in-my-neofeelings​ @dreamieofu​

"All I want for Christmas is youuu, baby!"

Doyoung's voice was almost deafening in your ear, which would've been a problem if you were sober. Your voice, too, merrily drunk and far too loud, belted out the holiday tunes. Your best friend's arm was slung around your shoulder, and yours was around his waist. It was like the blind leading the blind, however; neither of you were keeping your balance very well. The two of you staggered together, navigating the city's streets back to his apartment.

The Christmas party that your office held would have been okay without your favourite coworker - you would've had a good time and enjoyed yourself, sure. But with Doyoung's presence, paired with the copious amounts of alcohol, it had been a riot. Even if you had peaked too early and had to depart by 11pm. 

Doyoung was, undoubtedly, the best part about your job. The workload wasn't overwhelming, nor was it tedious, and the salary was nothing to sneeze at. But, without a shadow of a doubt, the best thing your job had ever provided you with was the opportunity to meet your best friend. Doyoung was your platonic soulmate, and your favourite person.

"Hey," Doyoung slurred, calling out to you suddenly. "Is that your ringtone?"

Squinting, you listened closely. "No, Doie," you hiccupped. "I think that's your ringtone."

"Oh, shit,'' Doyoung mumbled, diving into his coat pocket to retrieve his ringing phone. "My mom! She's facetiming."

Your vision was blurred, but you very vaguely saw Doyoung answer the call, bringing up his mother's image on his phone screen. Though you’d been best friends with Doyoung for a few years, you’d never met her. Doyoung lived and worked alongside you in the city, but his mother lived a while away in the countryside, and so your paths had never crossed.

"Hi Mom," Doyoung waved at her.

"Doyoung? Where are you?"

"I'm walking home, Mom," he responded, beaming at her through his phone.

"You sent me a strange text message," she told him, her voice raised a little more than necessary - Doyoung had mentioned that she was somewhat inept when it came to technology. 

"Huh?" Doyoung looked confused.

"Something about lunch the day after tomorrow," she elaborated. "Doyoung, you aren't coming home for the holidays until next week, right?"

"Ah," Doyoung said, understanding. "That was meant for somebody else, sorry Mom."

"My boy," you heard her tut, and you laughed. "Is someone there with you, Doyoung?"

"Yeah," Doyoung nodded, "Y/N is here."

"Hi, Mrs Kim," you waved, as Doyoung turned the screen towards you. If you weren't so drunk, you would've been nervous about meeting your best friend's mother for the first time. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it) your bloodstream was mainly rum at that point, so you had absolutely no worries nor qualms. 

“Kim Doyoung! Why didn’t you tell me you had a partner?” his mother blurted out.

“Huh?” exclaimed Doyoung, utterly confused.

“Oh Doyoung, you must bring Y/N home for the holidays! I can’t wait to meet them,” she cooed.

“Mom, wait-”

“See you two next week!” she cheerily said her goodbyes before hanging up, disappearing from the screen and leaving the two of you in silence. 

Doyoung looked at you. You looked back at him.

“Did she…” you began, not quite wanting to end your sentence.

Doyoung nodded gravely. “She thinks we’re dating.”

The look on Doyoung’s face - eyes wide, lips in a straight, serious line - it was too much for you. You snorted, gripping his arm as you buckled in laughter. He wasn’t far behind you, bursting into a fit of giggles too. You and Doyoung loved each other, that was indisputable. But it was completely and entirely platonic. The two of you laughed together the rest of the way home.

As you were coming to your senses the next morning, you groaned. Why the hell did you feel so lousy? you wondered, full to the brim with self-pity. Your head pounded, a throbbing ache so strong you were certain somebody was banging pots and pans in your brain. Your throat was so, so dry, and you felt as though you could drink a whole gallon of water and still be thirsty afterwards. And then the memories of the previous night came flooding in.

Ah, you thought, Now it all makes sense.

You sorted through the events of last night, mentally flicking through the filing cabinet of your memories. A filing cabinet that was sorely empty when it came to the night prior. You remembered arriving at the party with Doyoung; you remembered the first few drinks, but following that your memories began to fade. You remembered Doyoung pressing a sloppy kiss to your boss’ cheek - a rather stoic middle-aged man - and you had no doubt that Doyoung would be apologising profusely on Monday morning. You had absolutely no recollection of the walk home, but since you had awoken in Doyoung’s spare bedroom, you supposed the night could have gone worse. At least you made it home safe.

Begrudgingly, you threw back the blankets and lifted yourself out of bed. Doyoung - bless his heart - had left you some painkillers and a glass of water on the bedside table. You consumed both of them gratefully and emerged from the spare room, wincing at the sunlight that met you. As you made your way down the hallway, whistling met your ears. How Doyoung could be so lively after a night of heavy drinking, you had no idea.

“Why the hell do you never get hungover?” you grumbled at him as you entered the kitchen, finding him at the stove.

“Good morning to you, too, sleeping beauty,” he greeted you with a smile.

“Seriously,” you continued as you took a seat at the kitchen island, “I swear I get hungover enough for the both of us.”

“Thank you for taking on that burden,” Doyoung replied sweetly, which you responded to with a spiteful glower. It doesn’t last long, however; Doyoung finishes cooking breakfast, and dishes you up a serving. Sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, baked beans, hash browns, and toast. As much as you playfully bickered with Doyoung, he was an absolute treasure.

“Doie, you’re a gift from the heavens,” you praise him, the sight of the warm, greasy food reviving your soul almost immediately. 

Doyoung took a seat next to you, placing down a plate of his own breakfast. “So,” he began, “How much of last night do you remember?”

“Huh?” you asked, suddenly wondering if you’d forgotten something drastic. “Did we…”

“Oh my god, no,” Doyoung denied quickly.

“Thank fuck,” you sigh in relief. Your best friend was attractive, definitely. But you saw him as more of a sibling than a lover.

Doyoung waited a moment before explaining, and with each second that passed, your suspicions rose. “My mom… She’s invited you to spend the holidays with us.”

“Oh!” you exclaim. That confession was a lot tamer than what you’d expected. “Sure, that sounds great. I was spending the holidays alone this year anyways.”

“There’s a catch.”

You dropped your knife and fork onto your plate. “Doyoung,” you groan, “Why is there always a catch?”

“My mom thinks we’re dating.” Doyoung pointedly avoided your eye contact while he spoke.

“And you corrected her, right?” you asked, fearing the worst. Doyoung’s silence only confirmed your fears. “Right?” 

“She was so happy when she thought I was dating someone! And she’s been on my back about settling down forever,” Doyoung rambled, trying to save himself from your wrath - to no avail.

“Doyoung!”

“Please, Y/N. It’ll only be for a few days,” he pleaded, clasping his hands together and giving you his very best puppy-dog eyes. And you had to admit, they were some top-notch puppy-dog eyes.

You gave a resigned sigh, and Doyoung cheered. “Fine. But only because I really want to try your mom’s cookies.”

“You’re the best friend in the world,” Doyoung complimented you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You whined at him, fighting the urge to bat away his affections; in your hungover state, you were not at all ready for hugs.

“Then make me some more hash browns,” you grumbled. If Doyoung was prepared to put you in this situation, he’d better also be prepared to pay you for it.

“You got it, best friend,” Doyoung beamed at you, getting up to obey your command. “You should pack those Christmas pyjamas you’re wearing, by the way. My mom would love them.” You scowled at him. He immediately backed down, waving away his previous statement. “We can figure out the logistics later.”

“You better make this worth my while, Kim Doyoung.” When he served you your hash browns, you were still scowling.

As the taxi pulled up at Doyoung’s childhood home, you couldn’t help but marvel at it. You raised a hand to the cab’s window, looking out at the idyllic cottage, rooftop covered in snow, decked out in twinkling Christmas lights. The environment had grown increasingly more peaceful as you had travelled out of Seoul and deeper into the countryside, picturesque hills and winding valleys rolling past the train windows. This place felt worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and it was difficult to feel even slightly stressed. Even if the situation your best friend had put you in was less than ideal, this was an absolutely beautiful place to spend the holidays - it looked like it had jumped straight out of a Christmas card.

Despite the beautiful winter wonderland before you, you still weren’t prepared for the cold that hit you when you stepped out of the cab. You busied yourself getting the luggage from the trunk while Doyoung paid the driver.

“Are you ready?” Doyoung asked you, looking into your eyes sincerely.

You sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You gave him a smile, reassuring him. The truth was, you were truly excited to spend the holidays with Doyoung and his mother; you were excited to meet her, to eat her home cooking, to hear stories about Doyoung in his youth. You just had some qualms about the whole fake relationship pretense, and you really didn’t want to let your best friend down.

“Y/N?” Doyoung spoke, taking bags out of your hands.

“Yeah?” you asked, watching wistfully as the taxi drove away.

Doyoung smirked at you. “Just try your best not to fall in love with me for real, okay?”

You rolled your eyes so hard they practically fell out of your head. “You wish.” Just as the cottage door swung open, you reached for Doyoung’s hand, holding it tightly. So began the relationship charade.

“Doyoung, my boy,” his mother beamed, coming out to greet her son. It was hard not to smile upon seeing her - she was clearly over the moon to see you and Doyoung, and her joy was infectious. She was a small woman, but you had gathered from Doyoung’s description that she certainly had a big character. She welcomed her son into an embrace, kissing his cheek. “You don’t visit home enough, Doyoung,” she chided lovingly.

“And you must be Y/N,” she spoke, moving her gaze onto you. She looked at you fondly, and you beamed back at her. “You’re so beautiful,” she praised you.

Your cheeks, already red from the cold, blazed a little brighter. “Thank you, Mrs Kim.”

She wagged a finger at you. “Mrs Kim, you make me sound so aged. Please, call me Mom.” She turned around, welcoming the two of you inside, and you shared a smile with Doyoung. 

The interior of the cottage was every bit as charming as the exterior. Family photos decorated the walls, and warm rugs hugged the floors. You supposed the home would have a cozy feeling all year round, but now, in the festive season, the place was dressed up to the nines. Lavish paper chains were strung up, along with twinkling lights and boughs of holly. Not to mention the Christmas tree; though not huge it was still sizeable, likely the biggest Mrs Kim could fit through the cottage door. It was embellished with golden tinsel and crimson baubles.

“Your home is so beautiful,” you commended. “Did you decorate yourself?”

“All by myself,” Doyoung’s mother confirmed proudly.

“This must’ve been a beautiful place to grow up,” you marvelled, your comment pointed towards Doyoung, who smiled back at you appreciatively.

“Oh, the stories I have about Doyoung growing up,” Mrs Kim said, and you detected a mischievous tone.

“I can’t wait to hear them,” you grinned.

“And see them!” she added. “I have so many photo albums.”

Doyoung groaned, while you and Mrs Kim laughed in the presence of his misery. Yes, you decided. You were going to enjoy this visit very much.

When you settled into bed that night, you were beyond exhausted. Doyoung’s mother had kindly set you up in the spare room, which was delightfully warm and snug. Doyoung’s childhood bedroom contained only a single bed, whereas the spare room had a double bed to accommodate you - the ‘couple.’ Though it had only been a few hours since you’d arrived that afternoon, the gravity of your situation had well and truly sunk in. The performative affection you and Doyoung had been carrying out was alien, equal parts strange and comical.

“I can’t believe the amount of times you called me Honey today,” Doyoung scoffed amusedly, dressed in his blue flannel pyjamas with his dark hair laying flat and fluffy on his forehead. He turned off the big light to leave the room illuminated by the warm glow of the table lamps, before climbing into bed beside you.

“Mock me all you want, Doyoung, but I think I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you return smugly.

“Well, I can’t imagine it’s hard. I’m very easy to love. You on the other hand?” Doyoung faked a weary sigh. “I have my work cut out for me.” You flicked Doyoung on the forehead, snickering when he yelped. 

You yawned, depositing your phone on the bedside table and snuggling down into the blankets. Though you were exhausted, and the cottage was immensely cozy, it always felt a little strange to fall asleep in a new place. You were thankful for the company of your best friend, who always put you at ease.

“I hate sharing a bed with you,” you grumbled your complaint. Despite the comfort he brought you, he wasn’t the easiest person to sleep with. “You starfish. I always wake up with, like, one centimetre of bed space.”

Doyoung dropped his phone, letting it fall onto the blankets. He looked at you, eyebrows raised. “One centimetre?”

“Yeah, one centimetre!” you insisted.

“Well, I always wake up with your cold feet on my legs,” he rebutted.

“Yeah, well-” you sputtered. “It’s not my fault you’re a living hot water bottle!”

“And it’s not my fault you’re always cold. Yet I’m always punished with your horrible cold feet.” You laughed back at him; the normality of your bickering helped to put you at ease.

“Let’s get some rest,” you suggested, yawning again. “I don’t wanna miss your mom’s cookies tomorrow morning - I wanna try them while they’re warm.”

“Mmm, good idea,” Doyoung agreed, eyes wide with the thought of his mother’s cookies.

“Goodnight, butthead,” you teased your friend, turning off the lamp beside you.

“Sleep well, idiot,” he replied fondly. 

Thoughts of warm chocolate-chip cookies were the last things on your mind before you fell asleep, and you were lucky enough to have them drift through your dreams that night.

As you slowly woke up, gradually returning to the land of the conscious, you first became aware of how delightfully warm you were. A light winter sun was shining through the gaps in the curtains, bathing the room in a soft white light. You sighed, hugging your pillow closer to you, but  furrowing your eyebrows in confusion when you found it to be much firmer and less pliant than a pillow.

“Nice to see you’ve finally awakened. You drooled on my pyjamas.” Doyoung’s voice was gentle, and lacked any real annoyance.

“What time is it?” you asked, rolling off the boy.

“Half nine,” he told you, looking at his phone screen. You digested the information as Doyoung got out of bed, stretching his muscles which had stiffened from sleep.

“Now that I’m finally free,” he stared at you pointedly, “I’m gonna take a shower. There’s another bathroom down the hall if you want to wash up.” You nodded, accomplishing your own satisfying stretch in bed.

A while later, fresh and ready for the day, adorned in your favourite comfy sweater, you made your way downstairs, trying to dampen down your high, high hopes for cookies.

“Good morning, Mrs Kim,” you greeted the woman with a smile. A smile that increased tenfold when you saw she was, in fact, in the middle of preparing cookies.

“I already told you to call me Mom, darling,” she chastised gently. “Did you sleep well?”

You gave her a nod, silently thinking about the several times you woke up to Doyoung kicking you through the night. 

“Lovely,” she commented. “I’m making cookies, would you like to help?”

“I’d love to,” you answered honestly. “Your cookies are kind of famous back in Seoul. Doyoung never stops talking about them.”

“That boy and his cookies,” she remarked with affection.

Doyoung’s mother set you off to work making another batch of mixture, as she began her duties with the rolling pin. The two of you worked in a comfortable silence, and you marvelled at how much she put you at ease. She was a warm lady, the kind of mother figure a person is lucky to have.

“Y/N, I want you to tell me everything,” she spoke after a while. “How did you and Doyoung meet?” 

“Ah,” you mumbled, gearing yourself up to talk about your fake-boyfriend. “Well, we work together. I joined the company about two years ago, and Doyoung was the one to show me the ropes.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Mrs Kim asked you sweetly.

You turned away from the cookie dough, choking a little at the mention of romance with Doyoung, as you remembered the first time you met the man. 

You were almost trembling as your new boss showed you around the office; this was your first “grown-up” job and you were the very definition of nervous. You were thankful for your brand-new black blazer which covered the sweat stains that you knew were building. 

“And this,” your boss introduced you, “Is Kim Doyoung. He’ll help you settle in.”

“Hi. Y/N Y/L/N,” you offered Doyoung your hand to shake, which he accepted. 

Doyoung waited for your boss to leave before speaking. “So,” he began with a smirk, “How hard did he try to be ‘relatable’ and ‘down with the kids?’”

You hid your laugh behind a cough. “He’s a little out of touch, huh?”

“A little?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, laughing alongside you.

“Is it okay to talk about the boss like this? We’re supposed to respect him, right?” you asked your new coworker, a little uncertainly.

“Ah, Y/N, of course we respect him,” Doyoung tutted at you, before adding, “To his face.” 

Doyoung had you in stitches your entire first day. Though he tried not to show it, you hadn’t seen anybody try so hard to help you become comfortable and calm. He had been easing your nerves since day one. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed as you recovered.  “I think it was.” Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight in a romantic sense, but the two of you definitely connected on a personal level right away.

“So romantic,” Doyoung’s mother cooed as she rolled out the dough. “What do you love most about him?”

“Hm.” You paused, taking a moment to think. It was true that you loved a lot of Doyoung’s qualities - he was your best friend after all. He was always supportive, an ever-present shoulder to cry on. He was funny, and kind, and pleasant to be around. You always had fun together. “I love a lot of things about him,” you answered truthfully.

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she agreed with you jovially, to which you smiled and nodded. “Now, I don’t want to rush you,” she continued, “But will you and Doyoung be giving me grandchildren any time soon?”

You choked on your spit, just as Doyoung entered the kitchen, coming to your rescue.

“Speak of the devil,” his mom noted affectionately, as she loaded the full trays into the oven.

“Cookies?” Doyoung’s eyes glinted hopefully. His hair was still damp from the shower, dripping and leaving wet droplets on his plain white t-shirt.

“Yes, in about fifteen minutes,” she confirmed. “You can wait that long, right?”

“Oh,” Doyoung moaned, “I don’t know. I can feel my life escaping from me as we speak.” He collapsed at the kitchen table behind you, falling onto the chair as he pretended to faint. You chuckled at his antics, reaching over to ruffle his still-wet hair adoringly. You caught his mother looking over at the two of you fondly, and you smiled, a little self-conscious. 

It felt more natural than you’d imagined, being cute and cozy with Doyoung in this false relationship. You supposed your friendship was a little more affectionate than you realised. Now that you thought about it, there was a certain tenderness that was common between the two of you - aside from the constant snipping and bickering, that was.

You’d never considered that you could be suited to a life outside the city, but the longer you spent in the charming countryside, the more ideal it felt. On your second morning of your winter break, you and Doyoung had donned your warmest winter gear (hats, scarves, and gloves included) and set out on a walk down the rustic lanes that your best friend had once called home. Though there were no eyes on you, and logically you didn’t have to keep up your fake-dating pretence in these hidden moments, shared only by you and Doyoung, the two of you held hands as you ambled down the snow-covered roads. It was an unspoken act, and one that felt strangely comfortable and oddly natural. You didn’t accredit too much thought to it; best friends could hold hands, if they wished to.

“We’re almost there,” Doyoung told you, after a short time of walking.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Where?” You hadn’t thought you were walking with any specific location in mind - you’d assumed the pair of you were meandering through the countryside with no direction.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, leaving you wondering.

Not long later, Doyoung directed you towards an opening in the shrubbery at the side of the lane, maneuvering himself over a stile before helping you over. The field you found yourself in was empty, the normally green meadow blanketed in completely untouched white. The only thing standing in the field, other than you and Doyoung was an old, rather dilapidated-looking barn. You imagined it once blazed a beautiful scarlet, although the years and the weather had chipped and faded its coat, leaving it a patchy maroon.

“Who does this belong to?” you asked, reclaiming Doyoung’s hand as you approached the barn together.

“I don’t know,” Doyoung countered. “Nobody, I think. It’s been abandoned as long as I can remember.”

“It’s a little creepy,” you commented apprehensively.

“Don’t worry, there aren’t any ghosts,” Doyoung mocked you, although it was devoid of any cruelty.

The door creaked as Doyoung pushed it open, and you didn’t entirely trust it not to fall completely off its hinges. The interior of the barn was a dark contrast to the stark white of the winter wonderland outside, although some sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wooden structure.

“Welcome to my secret clubhouse,” Doyoung introduced you. Your hands fell apart, as Doyoung left your side to venture to the back of the dwelling, finding a rickety swing that hung from the rafters, constructed of two pieces of rope and a plank of wood. He sat on it, swinging lightly and you were surprised to find that it managed to support his weight.

“How many of your romantic conquests have you brought here before me?��� you teased, examining his hangout.

“You’re the first.”

The barn wasn’t particularly exciting, but there was a certain buzz to be derived from gaining a little bit of insight to Doyoung’s past. The floors of the building were no longer lined with hay, but dirt and dust, featuring intermittent weeds and plants. A tree had reached its spindly branches inside the structure, intertwining itself with the beams and pillars. You perched yourself atop an old stool that was sitting amid the weeds and rubble.

“Did you put that swing up yourself?” you asked, eyeing its stability.

“Yep,” Doyoung confirmed. “All by myself. I climbed right up into the rafters to fasten it.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself,” you remarked. The barn was a rather significant height, and it can’t have been safe for a young boy to scale the wooden bones of the building, likely aided by the serpentine branches of the oak tree. 

“When I was a kid I thought I was superman,” Doyoung said, and you could see him reminiscing internally. You watched, captivated, as he looked around the tattered old barn which was clearly a sentimental place for him. He was beautiful, your best friend. Eyes that shined, dark as the night; a nose that sloped almost perfectly; pink lips that looked best when smiling. Though the winter was a cold one, your heart was warmed by your love for Doyoung. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, simply existing together without any demand or pressure to make unnecessary conversation.

“We should get back home,” Doyoung spoke after a while, standing and stretching. “My mom is making hotpot for lunch.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you said with enthusiasm. Spending time with your best friend, taking walks through the beautiful countryside, and being fed homemade dishes for every meal. This Christmas holiday may just be the best thing to ever happen to you.

Christmas morning came much more swiftly than you expected. The homely atmosphere of the cottage, the domestic haven where Doyoung spent his youth, felt like a sweet sanctuary that existed outside of the linear flow of time. Early morning walks down dew-covered lanes gave way to plentiful lunches that you savoured, which morphed into homely afternoons that eased into sleepy evenings around the fireplace. It was the sweet retreat you hadn’t realised you’d needed, and you were remarkably upset that you had to return to the city the following day.

“I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll put this to good use,” you grinned at Mrs Kim as you handed over the Christmas present you’d brought her. She unwrapped the parcel, although the shape didn’t quite leave room for a discreet gift, to reveal a bottle of red wine.

“I’m sure I’ll find some way to use this,” she responded, a teasing twinkle in her eye as you shared a laugh together. 

“Y/N,” Doyoung spoke, handing you a small box wrapped in festive paper. “Here.” He was already wearing the watch you had gifted him with. You peeled back the wrapping, opening the box to find a delicate silver necklace, hanging from it a shining silver jewel. It looked expensive; you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a real diamond.

“Wow,” you gasped, at a complete loss for words.

“Let me put it on you,” Doyoung offered, and you let him. 

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled at him. “Thank you.” He smiled back sincerely.

Doyoung’s mother reached under the Christmas tree, bringing out two identically wrapped packages, square-shaped and squishy. “You kids open your presents together; I made them matching for you.”

You tore into the paper, opening the bundle to reveal a mass of knitted wool, soft and burgundy. You lifted it up to reveal a beautiful, intricate Christmas sweater - and noticed that Doyoung was holding an identical one.

“They’re so beautiful, Mrs Kim,” you complimented her, a little starstruck; though you knew Mrs Kim had handcrafted them, they looked like they were bought from a shop. They were of the most perfect quality, and looked splendidly snug and cozy.

“Yeah, thanks Mom,” Doyoung added, admiring the material. He waited until she looked away, taking a sip of her hot cocoa, before turning to you and muttering “Matching Christmas sweaters?” accompanied by a fake gag. You looked away, finding it almost impossible to stifle the giggle that bubbled up within you. They were beautiful, and you were endlessly grateful for the homemade gift, but Doyoung’s comment had amused you.

Mrs Kim looked at you with a knowing expression, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d noticed the exchange.

“Now you know I wasn’t kidding about my mom’s homemade cooking,” Doyoung said as he worked on the mountain of dishes in the sink.

“You really weren’t,” you agreed, stood next to him with a towel to dry the porcelain. You typically weren’t such a big fan of turkey, but something about the way Mrs Kim cooked it meant that it was surprisingly delicious. You had gone back for several helpings of the meal, encouraged by Doyoung’s mother, who seemed to derive pleasure from keeping people well-fed.

“I need a nap,” Doyoung declared, and you shared his experience of full-stomach sleepiness.

The pair of you finished up in the kitchen, and moved to the living room where Doyoung’s mother had relocated.

“Ah!” she stopped you in the doorway, before you could enter. “Look.”

You followed her pointed finger, to the green sprigs hanging in the archway. Mistletoe. Doyoung gave an awkward chuckle.

“Mistletoe for the lovers,” his mother chortled gleefully.

Doyoung captured you in his embrace, and your heart began to beat a little faster - was he really going to kiss you? You closed your eyes as he moved into you, and felt his lips peck your forehead. You smiled, before pulling him in for a kiss on the lips. In the spirit of Christmas. Doyoung’s eyes widened, and you laughed as his mother cheered. You followed her into the living room, making yourself comfortable on the couch that had no right being as cozy as it was. Doyoung’s cheeks were still red when he joined you, taking a seat on the couch alongside you.

The television was on, playing some old Christmas movie you vaguely recognised but had never seen. You brought your legs up onto the couch, snuggling into Doyoung’s side and nestling in further when he wrapped his arm around you. The film was already halfway through, and you were too sleepy to pay attention. It wasn’t long before you began nodding off to sleep, and you knew Doyoung was doing the same. Comfortable and relaxed, you let it happen, easing into a well-deserved nap with your best friend. Just as you fell into the unconscious, you sensed Doyoung’s mother draping a blanket over you both, and you smiled gratefully before letting yourself go.

“Taxi’s here!” Doyoung announced from his point of watch at the front door.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” Doyoung’s mother pouted.

You agreed with a sad smile. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mrs Kim,” you bid her goodbye as Doyoung took your luggage out to the car.

“Beautiful Y/N,” she smiled back at you, taking your hands in her own. “Tell me the truth here.”

You blinked, surprised at her direct request. “Of course.”

“You and Doyoung aren’t really dating, are you?”

“I-”

“It’s okay, my love,” she reassured you. “Don’t worry about it. That Doyoung, he’ll do anything if he thinks it’ll please me.”

“He’s a good boy,” you commented, to which Mrs Kim nodded in agreement. “But how did you know?” You’d thought you’d given a pretty convincing show.

“Nothing gets past me,” she responded, her eyes glinting. “Listen. Doyoung’s partner or not, I can tell that you’re important to him. And for that, you’ll always be a member of this family. You’re always welcome in this home, Y/N.”

You swallowed back tears, touched by her warm words, and by how genuine they were. “Thank you, Mom.”

The older lady pulled you in for a hug, just as Doyoung called out to you, “Y/N, we gotta go.”

“You have my number, right?” Mrs Kim checked, and you nodded. “And keep that cookie recipe safe - three generations old, that is!”

“Of course,” you assured her, retreating to the taxi as Doyoung said his goodbyes to her.

“Come back soon, you two!” 

“We will,” you and Doyoung promised her in unison.

Settled in the back of the taxi, you heaved a sigh. It had been a beautiful holiday period, but part of you was happy to be returning to the security of your own home. And an even bigger part of you was relieved to drop the act of being Doyoung’s partner.

Doyoung looked at you, a tired look in his eyes. “Y/N, I love you so much-”

“But we could never date,” you completed his statement, sensing its direction.

“Never,” agreed Doyoung with a laugh. 

The two of you were much better off as friends. It would be a lie to say you’d never wondered what it would be like if your relationship ever happened to cross that boundary, but you were sated by the lesson you’d learned over the last week. Your relationship was platonic, and was destined to remain that way. That didn’t mean your relationship was any less significant than that of a romantic couple, though. Doyoung was your family. And you were beyond lucky to have found him.

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc of amy having a bad day and struggling with mac? say he’s very clingy or also upset

Guess what, this accidentally turned into a fic too. And it kinda shifted into 'Jake and Amy having a bad day and struggling with Mac for very different reasons'... I hope you still like it!

(read it on AO3)

It had become evident pretty early on that when Mac got sick, he gravitated towards Amy much more. Sure, Jake was also sometimes good for snotty cuddles and cough-soothing baths, but at some point he would call for his mom, or whine and spread his arms towards her with his legs kicking in frustration, and it said a lot about how much Jake has grown that he didn't even hesitate to hand him over without acting hurt. Maybe the blissful calm washing over Mac's face as soon as Amy was hugging him helped with that, too. It was such a wonderful thing to see after hours of crying, coughing, sneezing, whining and general sad pouting that only a Peralta-baby is capable of, Jake barely had the energy to worry about how it felt to be so blatantly rejected by his little boy.

It'd also become evident that Mac’s clingy phase had started a bit earlier than most of their parenting books prophesied. If Amy was home, he wanted to be on her lap, or in her arms, or wrapping his little arms around her leg as she tried to work in the kitchen. Jake got “NO!”ed and waved away far more often than he was asked for a hug himself, and again, it took a lot of newfound maturity not to let that get to him - and maybe he did not have enough of that yet, because it absolutely got to him in quieter moments.

(He knew it’d pass, like any phase in a toddler’s life passes at some point. Like the phase of Mac refusing anything but that one specific carrot puree passed, or the phase of him being unable to sleep anywhere except cuddled in between them, waking up as soon as they tried to carry him back to his own bed.)

The real trouble starts when both these situations collide.

-*-

Mac woke them up at 4:30 sharp, two hours before Amy’s first alarm, crying so hard it almost sounded like screaming. When Jake tiptoed into the nursery, he had to ignore the frustrated shouts of Nonono and Mamam that he was almost used to by now, to actually check what was wrong. Probably another ear infection, he realised after seeing the symptoms they’d become very familiar with during the last time they’d battled through one of those. They had to bring him to the doctor to be sure, but he already knew they were looking forward to at least two days of unsoothable crying and fussing.

He also knew that things would be hell for Amy.

In theory, it would make far more sense for him to call in sick to take care of Mac. As much as he loved his detective work, the simple fact that his wife outranked him (and thus outdid him in both salary and responsibilities, obviously) meant that if one of them had to take a few days off, it should be him first and foremost. In practice, however, Mac was going to be even more insufferable than just from his sickness if left alone with him at the moment. He was still crying for Amy as Jake lifted him out of the cot - he would be screaming bloody murder if she closed the door of the apartment behind her.

“Earache?” Amy asked already as Jake stepped back into the bedroom, Mac’s wailing lessening only slightly as he stretched his arms out toward her. She pulled him to her as Jake sighed and nodded.

“I think so. I’ll take him to the doc when they open.” He tried to offer, but he knew Amy would refuse it anyway.

“No, I can do it. I’ll call in sick - you get back to sleep for work.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed again as he dropped onto his back while Amy was sitting up to sway Mac, who’d actually quieted down into little sobs and sniffles in her arms. “I’m sorry, Ames.”

“It’s nobody’s fault he’s sick, especially not yours.”

“Yeah, but I wish I could help more. If he wasn’t- you know.”

“I know.” Amy let her free hand not holding Mac drift through Jake’s sleep-messy curls. She knew that, as much as he tried to pretend it wasn’t bothering him, he secretly hated the thought of his son rejecting him in any way, even if it was as nonsensical as a clingy toddler phase.

Luckily it didn’t take long for him to actually fall back asleep with her hand in his hair, and she carefully wiggled out of bed to let him rest while settling down with a still crying Mac in his nursery rocking chair.

-*-

They got to get ready together as they usually did in the morning, at least - even if Amy was only getting dressed to drive to the pediatrician and straight back again. She’d already called Holt and explained the situation before Jake handed her a mug of coffee, and Mac had been, at the least, not crying for the last ten minutes while sitting in his playpen in the living room. Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as last time.

“I can pick up whatever the doc prescribes on my lunch break.” Jake smiled at her, ruefully, and she considered telling him again that it was okay, that she could do it - but something told her to keep her options of at least a few minutes not alone with a sick toddler open.

She desperately needed that option when lunchtime came around.

Doctor Maurice had quickly confirmed their suspicions and told her that there wasn’t much more they could do than wait it out, keep an eye on his fever and medicate with ibuprofen and warm compresses. Not that any of that had helped. When Mac wasn’t crying, he was screaming, and when he wasn’t screaming, he wanted to be close to her, but he couldn’t lie down without the pain getting worse, so simply plonking down on the couch with him was out of the question. She’d let him breastfeed far more than had been their norm now that he was slowly getting weaned, because it seemed to give him some relief at least, as well as quieting him for a blissful moment. But then the infection had travelled to his stomach as well, the same way it had last time, and he staunchly refused any and all food or milk. She’d seriously started considering foregoing the diapers completely and just letting him play in the empty bathtub so she could rinse him off from time to time, because five dirty diapers in under twenty minutes had to be some sort of new record.

So when Jake texted her he was on his way, with a picture of another box of ibuprofen and that herbal steam-bath mix that had helped last time, she sent a silent thank you prayer to anyone who wanted to listen. And she mumbled a not quite as silent thank you against Jake’s lips before he could even get his shoes off at the door.

“I got you one of the good bagel sandwiches for lunch, too.” He said as he hugged her and combed through her messy hair.

“I love you so much.” She hadn’t even realised that the only thing in her stomach so far was still the cup of coffee he’d made her this morning.

He grinned as he put the deli paper bag on the kitchen counter and went over to Mac’s playpen, to say hello to a currently only softly whining toddler smacking an innocent teddy against a pile of soft fabric blocks. Amy followed to wrap her arms around his waist from behind and rest her head against his back, taking in a few deep breaths of Jake, of something that didn’t smell of diarrhea, moist compresses, milk-hiccups and spit up.

“Also Holt gave me an hour for lunch, so if you want to take a nap or something-”

“God.” Amy groaned with pure happiness as Jake turned around in her embrace. “Marry me, Mr. Perfect.”

“Any place, any time, babe.” He kissed the crown of her head while returning her hug, sniffing her hair with a chuckle. “But maybe a shower first before the big day.”

“Rude.” Amy mumbled with her face pressed against his chest. “I rescind the proposal.”

His chuckle turned into a laugh at that, and he slowly unraveled her arms around him. “Nap first, then shower, how’s that sound? Then a bagel. I’ll give Mac his lunch.”

“Good luck with that.” She sighed before giving him another quick kiss and making a beeline for the bedroom.

-*-

She’d hopped straight from bed into the bathroom later, relishing in the feeling of the hot water washing away any aches left over after that much needed nap. Alas, when she stepped out of the oh-so-peaceful bathroom, she was met with a wall of sound.

Mac was wailing, hard, as Jake swayed him back and forth, holding another warm compress against his little ear, and trying to make soothing noises despite the shrill screams of No and MAMA! straight into his face.

“Shsshhshsh, hey, it’s okay, bud, it’s okay. I know you don’t like me much at the moment, but it’s gonna be okay, and mom is coming back soon-”

He stopped as he noticed her stepping into the room, giving her an apologetic smile as she took Mac from him. The wailing turned into regular crying at least, albeit still loud.

“I’m sorry babe - did he wake you up? He won’t eat either.”

“I set an alarm, actually. So you won’t be back late.” Amy sat down on the couch and pulled up her shirt (freshly changed after the shower, and god had that felt good as well). Mac latched onto her breast almost immediately, and a wonderful quiet settled across the room, only his little snuffling and suckling noises breaking through.

Jake’s face was unreadable before he turned towards the kitchen to plate her bagel, but that stoic, almost empty expression told her enough anyway. She grabbed his wrist as he set the plate down on the couch table, pulled softly until he sat down next to her, running her fingers through his hair again to comfort him.

“You know it’s not true, right?”

“Hm?” Jake looked up at her after watching Mac, who finally seemed to calm down completely in her arm, with a vacant look in his eyes.

“It’s not true that he doesn’t like you. He loves you just as much as me. It’s just a difficult phase.”

“I know that.” Jake’s attempt at a smile was still sad enough, and she wiped across the corner of it with the soft tip of her thumb.

“And I love you too. So much.”

“I know that.” And this new smile seemed to turn out right, at least. “You wanna re-marry me, after all.” He teased as he leant his head against her shoulder, looking down at Mac again with a much less forlorn expression.

“Hey, I rescinded that proposal!” She quipped back, falling into their usual banter easily now that she was rested enough and sure that Jake felt better as well. “But I might consider re-re-proposing again if you promise to pick up Polish for dinner.”

“I knew you only wanted me for all the free food delivery.”

“I also need you for other things.” Amy said as she sat up a bit straighter to finish Mac’s feeding, Jake’s head lifting off of her shoulder with the movement. “Like burping your kid. I really don’t want spit-up down this fresh shirt.”

“Aye aye, Sergeant.” Jake joked, already scrabbling for the burp cloth thrown over the armchair next to them and taking Mac out of her arms.

She watched him as he expertly settled the little, squirming bundle against his chest, the swaying and patting motion almost second nature by now, ducking his head down for a quick sniff of that perfect toddler hair scent. He’d have to leave for the precinct soon enough, and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the afternoon probably being a reprise of her entire morning, and she didn’t even want to think about the night or next day to come.

Life with a toddler was unpredictable. Almost nothing was in her control anymore. But, as she’d learned over the years, as long as she was with the right people, she could handle anything. And Jake Peralta proved, again and again, that he was the right person for her.

[beautifulweird0]

Forgiving Your Parents

I know too many people who’ve experienced some form of trauma from their parents. This isn’t a blog about bashing your folks- this is hopefully a post that will help salvage some strained parent and child relationships. Cause I been there, done that-and understanding your parent is only feasible if your parent is interested in understanding you.

My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’.

   Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

It’s my belief that something is wrong with a person if they want no parts of having a relationship with their child. Literally so messed up from their own unhealed traumas that they can’t find it within themselves to love someone they created…

Ain’t no fixing on that unless you take they ass to a therapist.

Moving on.

I’ve always had such a strong feeling in my gut when I come across new people. It’s like they look at me and think I got it all. Truly looking at me and seeing a woman who doesn’t have insecurities or childhood traumas spotted along her path cause I’m kind and always make it a point to smile like Granny told me.

    I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” .

Think about it...

Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

    So as a 22 year old woman that been through some mess with her people, let me share pieces of me. Cause the last thing you want on your conscience is one of your parents passing and ya’ll not being on the best of terms.

I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

   This is why I say if your parent is trying, then work with them. If they sit down with you and tell you how life was for them coming up. The good parts, the ugly parts, and everything in-between. Trying their best to be authentic and build a bond, then meet em’ halfway (if they haven’t been on some stuff that’s just unforgivable).

And shit, our people ain’t have everything at their fingertips as we do. The apps that spread information quicker than you could sneeze, weren't available. They couldn’t go on a ‘self-care’ page to calm themselves down if triggered or go on YouTube and watch motivational videos. Not making excuses, just using a little perspective that helps me! Yet and still, let your parent(s) know if they did something to wrong you; you gotta’ have respect for yourself as a human. Period.

   I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!).

Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby.

    It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically).

     So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

My first point is patience. If you aren’t going to be patient with an end goal for you and your parent, you’re wasting your time. Being prepared for them to fumble sometimes is mandatory if y’all going to get to a better place. You mess up on certain projects or what have you’s a few times before you get it right...right?

Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse?

     Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.

Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

Having a child of my own- I’ve been witness to this. Folks can be shown and folks can be told on how to do certain things but with each child being different in this world, you have to be intune with them specifically- no book on that.

I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚).

But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.

Don’t get it confused,  my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

Another step to keep in mind is, boundaries. I just feel like it will make the whole exchange smoother-not easier- but smoother. The point of forgiving your parents and (if you chose) trying to build a relationship, is to have them know you for who you are NOW. Not when you were 5, not when you was 12...have them meet you at your level. They dropped the ball, not you. Sure...nobody asked to be here but that becomes invalid when you start having babies of your own. It’s a different ball game when you bring a life into this world. Your joys become the joy of your children but way too often we forget that our pain becomes theirs as well.

My father always tried too-the dad that I always knew as my dad. On weekends me and my sister would go to his house before he moved to Michigan. Man I was a daddies girl-still am. My grandparents had the house on lock, couldn't watch programs with cussing in it or too much violence. Life of having Southern Baptist grandparents I guess.

 The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them.

My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything.

However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess.

My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart.

Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand.

He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness.

I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I had to forgive my parents because they’ve come a long way. Holding all that anger and resentment wasn’t gone help me in the long run. And in a way I can say I've helped to heal them by loving them through their screw ups. We always talk about a parents love but what about a child's love?

I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

[woah-another-tankmen-account]

Cold war, Steves turn to suffer: a tankmen sickfic!

(A/N: WADDUP DUMMIES- IF YOU WANNA READ THE FIRST PART OF THIS FIC CHECK THIS OUT! NOW ENJOY BC MAMAS TIRED AND WANTS TO GET SOME SLEEP- LOVE YOU MY CHERRIES! :>)

“Ay, Sleeping beauty, if I’m up you should be up as well, bozo..” Steve grunted, picking Caprain up from the floor and shaking him awake.

“..Aww, and whats got you’re attitude in a knot? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Bud?” Captain replied, teasingly winking at Steve. Pushing him away and getting out of bed.

Steve gave a sarcastic smirk before walking out of the door and into the common room where all the Tankmen usually hang out when there’s nothing better to do. Luckily for him, nobody was there. Steve plopped onto the couch and immediately tried going back to sleep.

After a while, John walked into the common room after Steve and sat next to him.

“Lemme guess.. Ya got sick, didn’t ya, Steve?”

“What, no.. we’ll technically yes but it’s probably just my allergies or some crap!”

“And sense when have you had allergies?”

“Sense now…”

John chuckled at that comment, looking the other direction.

“You got me, didn’t you?-“

“Yep.. sure did, Cap..”

Captain John Sighed, feeling Steve’s forehead, Yep, Steve was in fact sick.

“Alright Alright.. I’m sorry! The medic gave us one more day so relax, I’ll take care of things from here!” John insisted, playfully patting Steve’s head. Steve stuck his tongue out and made his iconic weird annoyed sounding noises.

“Fine Fine, I’ll go-“

John tucked in Steve with a random blanket he found on the floor (it was probably sniper’s but who cares this ain’t about him-) and went into the kitchen to make Steve some soup.

Captain wasn’t really made for cooking, the only thing he really knew how to make was probably something along the lines of undercooked Mac N cheese but at least he puts in the effort. He let out a frustrated “Ugh” as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients for the soup he was gonna make for Steve. He started piecing together the ingredients and SOMEHOW managed to make something edible. John walked into the common room to find Steve, fast asleep on the couch. John chuckled, walking up to the couch and sitting next to the poor soul.

“Steveee, wakey wakey- I worked hard to make this for you ya know-“

“i know i know... Just.. 5 more minutes, mom..“

John looked at Steve with a confused expression. “Mom” was the last thing he’d expect to be called but here we are.

“Well, Honey, if you don’t get up you’re gonna be late for school.” John said sarcastically, jokingly shaking Steve awake.

Steve drowsily blinked a few times before fully waking up, he looked at Captain, who was still towering over him with his confused expression he had.

“Wha..? what happened…. Did I do somethin’..?” Steve asked, still a bit dizzy.

“Well- Uhh-“

“Uhh what..?- you know I don’t speak bumbling idiot…”

“You.. pfft- Called me Mom-“

And with those simple words, Steve got up and walked away, blushing.

“PFFT- WAIT WAIT WAIT WHERE ARE YOU GOING??-“

“ALASKA!”

“ITS FASTER IF YA TAKE THE TANK-“

“…..”

“AAAAAAAAAAAH-“

Steve plopped unto the floor, still screaming in frustration. John started to laugh but immediately stopped himself, we walked over to Steve and picked him up. He plopped Steve back on the couch and looked over him. Steve stuck his tongue out in embarrassment, giving him an annoyed look.

“Aw Cmon don’t be like that, don’t give me that look, Stevee-“

“I hate you, ya know that cap?”

“I guess you don’t want the soup I made ya then-“

Steve perked up a bit, smiling.

“You finally made something edible? Ain’t that just surprising!” Steve chimed, immediately sitting up.

“Imma pretend I didn’t hear that- Now here, eat-“ Captain demanded, passing Steve the soup.

Steve happily ate the soup, still surprised that Captain was able to finally make something consumable for once. It was a bit bitter but He wasn’t complaining.

“T-Thanks Cap, Sorry you have to put up with me all the time..”

“You don’t have to apologize, ya dummy! I actually find your antics pretty darn entertaining..”

Steve blushed, looking away and covering his face with his hoodie (which was probably a bad idea because he never washed it because he wore it all the time and it began to smell like blood, sweat, and regret over time but we’ll get into that another day)

In couple of seconds Steve managed to finish the soup and Captain took the bowl into the kitchen to wash it.

Hours passed and some of the soldiers made it back from the war zone, the group of soldiers containing the medic that helped Captain when he was sick the other day, Sniper, and Tankgirl.

“Hey, Steve! How’ve you and Captain been holdin up, things were pretty serious the other day..” The medic said, taking off his helmet and putting on the common room floor.

“Not too bad, Doc.. Cap’s doing better but I’ve gotten a bit..hehh..” Steve stopped in middle of his response, hitching a bit.

“HEH..HEH’CHU!” Steve sneezed into his blanket, sniffling. “I’ve been starting to feel a bit sick myself, Doc..”

“Oh, you poor dear! Are you here by yourself?”

“N-Nope.. Cap’s taking care of me.. he just went to go wash the dishes or somethin…” Steve replied, rubbing his nose with the blanket.

“We’ll ok then, Buddy.. Get well soon! I’ll tell the others not to bother you, also you might wanna hide your little diary some where else-“

“What.. why?-“

“We’ll you didn’t hear this from me but I think Sniper stole your diary-“

“Imma pretend I didn’t hear that-“

“Sorry Sorry! I shouldn’t have told you at this time!! You just get some rest!”

“Thanks Doc..”

And just like that, Steve’s day was 10 times worse, at least he didn’t have anything to personal in that diary anyway, the real tea was in his vent journal (but that’s another story for another day-)

Steve looked the other direction and drifted back to sleep.

Hours past and John continued to take care of Steve, making sure His fever goes down, slipping a few medications in the tea he made him, all the nine yards. Soon it was at least 3:00 at night and all of the soldiers were asleep except for him. Captain Yawned, sitting on the floor next to where Steve was sleeping. He soon started to doze off and fall fast asleep, Steve holding onto His hand in his sleep.

The sun shined in from the common room window, disturbing Steve’s slumber he looked over to several notes on the coffee table, most labeled “Get well soon” while one was labeled “Payback” and the other labeled “For the person who makes dumb decisions”

He read the note labeled “For the person who makes dumb decisions”realizing it was from none other than Captain John. He started to note aloud in this head

“Hey, Ya big goof! If you’re readin’ than

Your probably up earlier that I expected since I’m not telling you this in person.. But that’s all well and dandy! I just wanted to tell you that I’m glad you’re possibly feeling better (if not then I’m going to beg you with a Tylenol bottle with no hesitation-) and that I care about you! Don’t ever think that I don’t! I know things have been hard but don’t worry, you always got a home here at the base - Yours Truly, John.”

Steve smiled putting the note in his pocket and then reaching for the one that was simply labeled “Payback,” that read

“Revenge for my blanket, bozo” with a crumbled piece of paper from Steve’s diary.

“Another day in paradise…”

[amateur-authorial-aspirations]

Another short story! It's about the same length as the last one, around 3k words. I don't have a title for this one, though.

Not sure what trigger warnings to add for this but uh it's about a family that's kinda broken and a mom that was very neglectful, and there's stuff about sickness and hospitals. Oh and food.

~~~~~~~~~~

The only thing I wanted to inherit from my mother was the recipe for her chicken soup.

My mom—well, she did her best with us, I guess, but her best mostly involved working long nights at a lousy job and occasionally showing up at school events to clap for us. The rest of the time, she was either drinking Bud Lights out on the porch or passed out from some combination of exhaustion and intoxication, sprawled on her bed or wherever she happened to collapse. I'd put a blanket over her, sometimes, but usually I was too busy cooking dinner, or helping my younger siblings with their homework, or doing one of the million other things that wouldn't get done unless I did them.

The one thing she always got right, though, was when I was sick. She had crazy good hearing, like an owl or something, and if I so much as sneezed, in an instant she'd have me tucked into bed and a pot of chicken soup on the stove. That soup—dear God, my mouth still waters just thinking about it. It was like she took carrots and celery and a chicken straight from the dirt of a farm somewhere and cooked it in, I don't know, the tears of an angel. A little salty, and just heavenly. And the whole time I was sick, whether puking my guts up in the bathroom or just sniffling a little, she was the perfect mother—she picked Brett and Ashley up from school, cooked three meals a day, helped them with their homework, everything.

Even years and decades after I'd moved as far from her as I could get, whenever I was sick, I'd get an awful hankering for that chicken soup. I'd whine and moan and throw a feeble, snotty tantrum until someone made some for me, and my husband tried, bless his soul, but it just wasn't the same. Sometimes I'd try, too, once I was feeling better, but it was never as good as my mom's, no matter what I did. I thought about calling and asking her once or twice, usually when a bout of illness coincided with a fight with my kids. I'd be aching and shivering, feeling bad enough about my own parenting that I could almost forgive her, and when the craving hit, I'd start to reach for the phone, but—

No. I'd worked so hard to get her out of my head, and I didn't know if I could do it all over again.

I remember it was raining the day Ashley called with the news. I could tell she was upset right away, but when she told me why, I almost dropped the phone.

"Hello?" she said, her voice choked. "Kathy, you still there?"

"Yeah," I rasped, "I'm here. I… I don't know what to say. I mean, cancer? God. Is she okay?"

"Yes. For now, at least. We don't know how long she'll stay that way, though."

"I don't know what to say," I repeated. It was true; I felt like someone had stuck my brain in a freezer.

"Say you'll come see her. And before you say no—"

"What? No. Absolutely not."

"Before you say no, think about how much it would mean to her. And to me. To all of us. We could finally be a family again, you know? One last time."

"I'm not putting myself through that so you can get our family picture taken, Ash."

"Come on, Kathy. I know you're mad at her, but—"

"I'm not mad. I just don't owe her anything."

"But—"

"And I don't owe you anything, either."

"Okay, that is not—"

I hung up. Then I threw my phone at the couch. It rang a moment later, but I just took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and walked out of the room, the tinny music fading as I closed the door behind me. Then it started again.

Brett called about an hour later. I let it ring.

He understood a little better than Ashley, I think, but she was his little sister, the baby of the family. I was sure he'd side with her.

But, after a long talk with my husband and a couple days of stewing, I decided to go after all. I might not have owed my mother anything, but I owed it to myself to not leave any questions hanging. Besides, if she was really dying… it felt bad, felt heartless, to refuse to visit an old, sick woman.

Brett met me at the airport, a box of chocolate in hand.

"Nate with the kids?" he asked.

"Yeah. Those for Mom?"

"No," he said with a small chuckle, "for you."

I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Honestly, Kathy, you're a saint. I don't know if I'd have come, if I were you."

"You did come, though."

"Yeah, but it wasn't the same for me. Or Ashley. You know that better than I do."

"Well, I'm not here for Mom, anyway."

It was Brett's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"I mean, I'm here to see her, but it's for me."

"And for Ashley?"

"And kinda for Ashley."

We both laughed a little. Then he handed me the chocolate and started loading my suitcases into the trunk of his car.

When we pulled up to the house, Ashley ran out to greet me, but Brett pulled her aside as I went around to the back of the car. I couldn't hear what he said, but her face sank. She nodded tightly and went back inside.

I tugged my suitcase up over the curb and pulled it down a concrete pathway that cut through calf-height grass and weeds to the front of Ashley's one-story, vinyl-sided house that had been painted in a shade of yellow so bright it turned my stomach, though I'm sure my sister thought it "sunny" or some such thing. Part of the roof was sagging on one side.

Looking at that house, part of me couldn't help feeling guilty. I mean, I wasn't rich, and Ashley and her family certainly weren't starving, but it was hard not to draw comparisons to my own home, spacious and immaculate and halfway across the country, and wonder if there wasn't more I should be doing. Not that she'd accept assistance if I offered it; if anything, she'd just get angry, and things between us were already so tense... but, still. I didn't think there would ever come a day that I saw her struggling and didn't want to help.

Lost in thought, I walked in the door and headed straight for the rear of the house, almost passing the small living room on the right, but then a quiet cough sounded. I whipped my head toward the noise, freezing in place as I took in the hospital bed that been set up where a couch used to be. Took in its white-haired occupant.

After a moment, I cleared my throat. "Hi, Mom."

She looked so tiny and fragile lying there, her feet barely reaching halfway down the bed, her skin pale and papery. Nothing like the hard-drinking, loud-talking woman who had stomped through my childhood with the force of a bulldozer, hurtling herself headfirst at anything that dared to stand in her way. No, there was no sign of that woman in this dimly lit room that smelled of sickness and floral air freshener.

"Hi, Kathy," said this person I no longer recognized. "It's so good to see you."

"Wish I could say the same," I blurted before I could think better of it, but she just laughed, a dry, gravelly chuckle that ended in a hacking cough.

"Well," she said after a minute, when she was breathing normally again, "I can't say I was expecting much better, after everything I put you through. And I guess that's what I get for smoking so damn much."

"Wait." My face screwed up in confusion. "Since when did you smoke?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago. I tried to quit for years, but it never stuck until I got pregnant with you. I guess knowing I had someone else depending on me was the push I needed."

I let out a sharp bark of laughter, once again reacting without thinking and immediately wishing I'd kept my mouth shut. Not because I hadn't meant it; I had, but it wasn't like me, to be so sarcastic and mean-spirited. This tired, bitter woman was just as foreign to me as the little old lady she was mocking.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm sure you thought that was a heart-warming story about one time you actually did take care of me, but that's the thing, right? You did get it right sometimes. Which means the rest of the time… that was a choice. And I could forgive you for being weak or sick or crazy, but you weren't any of those things. Like, when I was sick, you were always so good. And I'd eat your chicken soup, and I'd think, maybe this time. Maybe this time she'll keep it up. But then I'd get better, and you'd go right back to leaving us to fend for ourselves, and it would hurt even worse because I knew what it felt like to be taken care of. You know I've got kids now, right? I'm sure Ashley's told you. So I know what it feels like, when you're tired down to your bones and you don't know how to keep going. But still, every single day, I choose to go on anyway, to be there for my kids, because I love them too much not too. So either you just didn't love us enough, or you did, and you still chose not to take care of us. I don't know which it is, or which would be worse. But I know I can't forgive you."

The words had all come out in a rush, as if some long-stoppered bottle of feelings inside me had suddenly come pouring from my lips, getting bigger and angrier as I went, and I had to stop for a second, take a deep breath in, let it out slowly.

"So," I went on, more calmly now, "I'll be here for a week. We'll play nice, for Ashley and her kids, and because we are civilized people. And I really am sorry about what you're going through. But when I leave, I don't want to hear from you again, and I don't want you bothering Ashley about me."

With that, I turned on my heel, not waiting for a reply, and marched down the hall to the guest room.

Only after I closed the door and collapsed onto the bed did I think about who else might have been in the house. I really hoped Ashley's kids hadn't overheard my tirade. Or Ashley herself, for that matter. I didn't like this nasty streak my mother brought out in me, and whatever my feelings for her, being a good sister and aunt was more important.

But when I emerged a little while later, cool and composed and determined to stay that way, I found everyone gathered around the big wooden table in the kitchen, Ashley presiding over it all with a wooden spoon and a hearty laugh.

Her eyes lit up when she saw me in the doorway. "Kathy! Come in, come over here." She was beaming as I made my way past the treacherous tangle of cooking implements brandished by small hands to where she stood at the stove, stirring a sizzling pan of vegetables. "So," she said in a low voice, one that no one else would hear over the general hubbub, "things went well with Mom? Brett seemed to think there'd be some… unpleasantness, but she said you guys talked? Worked things out?"

I cast a wary glance to where my mom sat at the table between Brett and Ashley's husband Blake, but her attention was fully occupied by her grandchildren and the silly song they were singing as they worked on their "cooking."

"Yeah," I said with a small, sad smile, "I guess we did." And we had, I supposed, if not in the way Ashley hoped.

The rest of the visit flew by in a whirl of babysitting and doctor's visits and pasted-on smiles. Before I knew it, the last day had arrived. My flight out was scheduled for late afternoon, but I woke early, intending to take a walk in the cool darkness just before sunrise, for the fresh air and exercise and much-needed time to myself. But when I went to open the front door, something felt off, and I realized I couldn't hear the snoring that that had echoed through the small house every night this week.

With a gasp, I turned and rushed to my mother's side. "Ashley!" I shouted as I fumbled for the switch on the lamp and tried to remember what little first aid I knew. Running footsteps clattered along the floor, then stopped somewhere behind me. "Ashley, I don't think she's breathing."

"Oh, dear God," said Ashley, and then her phone was out and she was talking to someone.

The minutes that passed before the ambulance arrived felt like seconds and hours and days all at once. Blake was there, he was doing something I vaguely recognized as CPR, but I had no idea if it was working. Then it was flashing lights and paramedics in uniforms and Ashley had to stay with the kids so I was the one climbing into the back of the ambulance, and the siren was blaring as we raced through the streets and swerved around corners, everything swaying and rattling as I clung desperately to my mother's hand.

When we got to the hospital, they carted her off through a set of swinging doors, and all too soon it was just me, standing alone under the fluorescent lights, shaking. The air around me seemed to pulse, and the too-clean antiseptic smell of the hallway had me ready to vomit.

I don't know how long I stood there, staring in shock at the big red letters on the smooth metal doors. NO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL BEYOND THIS POINT. It felt like forever.

But it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before Brett was there, wrapping me in his jacket and leading me to a chair. I think there were tears in his eyes, but I was too numb to cry. Or to talk. So we just sat there in silence, his arms around me, until Ashley came in with a million questions that I couldn't even process, much less answer. Everything the paramedics and doctors said had shot right past me in a blur of unintelligible sound. Ashley seemed about ready to shake me in frustration, but Brett took her to look for the doctors who would have the answers I couldn't give her. He left me his jacket, but I still missed his comforting warmth.

A few hours later, I was sitting on a hard plastic chair in a cold, drab room, watching over my mother as she slept. She looked even stranger now, with her face all calm and peaceful, content in a way I had never seen her before. In my lap was a tray from the hospital cafeteria, a styrofoam bowl of steaming-hot soup at its center.

Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open, and I leapt to my feet in excitement, launching the tray from my lap and dumping the soup all over the floor.

"Ah!" I exclaimed, looking frantically around the room for something with which to mop up the rapidly spreading puddle of broth. "I'm so sorry, I just wanted to bring you soup, like you always used to make me when I was sick, and I know it's not the same, but I just thought… well, and now I've gone and made a mess of it, haven't I?" My gaze locked on the box of tissues on the bedside table, and I practically lunged for them, but I was stopped by a gentle touch on my arm.

"Forget about the mess, Kathy, just come sit next to me." My mother gestured to the chair that was closest to her bed, and I sat down obediently. She let out a small, quiet laugh. "Goodness, I'd almost forgotten about the chicken soup."

"I don't know what you put in it, but that soup was the best thing I ever tasted."

She looked up at me sharply, confusion etched in the lines of her face. "What?"

"Don't worry, I'm just reminiscing, not trying to weasel any secret ingredients out of you."

This time, her laugh was raucous. "Secret ingredients? Kathy, the only secret ingredient in that stuff was a can of chicken soup from the supermarket."

Now I was the confused one. "What?"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry if you thought I was making some special family recipe, but you must've got that idea from some fever dream. Don't you remember what a terrible cook I am? The only things I could ever make came out of cans or boxes or little plastic packets."

After a moment, I couldn't help but laugh as well. "Yeah, that sounds about right. I probably should've known."

I ended up missing my flight and staying for an extra week. Mostly, I stayed at the house, helping Ashley with chores or the kids, but I visited the hospital a few times, too.

When I finally got home, a small, white envelope was waiting for me in the mailbox, my name and address scrawled across the back. Careful not to tear it, I peeled open the flap and pulled out a single sheet of lined paper covered in the same messy handwriting.

Mom's Chicken Soup

Ingredients:

1 12-oz can of condensed chicken soup

1 canful of water

Combine ingredients in saucepan and heat over medium high, stirring occasionally, until warm and bubbling slightly. Let cool to your desired temperature and serve with a side of high fever and delirium.

On the back was a brief note.

Thought you should have at least one family recipe.

With a small smile, I tucked the paper back into the envelope and turned to go inside, my heart feeling strangely light and heavy at the same time. And as I looked up to see my two beautiful, wonderful children come running out to greet me, I couldn't help feeling that my front door was not the only one that had just been opened.

[dylanxmin]

painkiller ∣ 5 ∣ j.hs

breakups are habitual, ordinary maybe even easy for some other people, and maybe it could be easy for you, too, if you haven’t been dumped by your boyfriend after finding out that you were pregnant. no, it wasn’t easy even a bit. and a stranger who wants to be your side doesn’t make this all easy for you, at all.

pairing; jung hoseok x reader

genre; angst, fluff, humor, pregnancy au, strangers to lovers au, single!mom au, slice of life au,,

warnings; little high on angst, swearings, mention of abortion, mention of adoption, mention of miscarriage, unedited(rlly sorry about this)

word count; 5k+

rating; nc17

a/n; heyyy, it’s been a month since i last update this story and i only blame my finals, my sudden lost of muse, and some side effects of my life but there it is, freshly served, angsty episode!! ion know how did this come out but im feeling positive for the next episode! so,,,, hope you all enjoy reading this part, and as always, i do really appreciate a little comment soooo... lol, love y’all  ♡

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taglist; @xxluckydreamsxx​ ,, @parkminhee​

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‘‘Yes, can we have a brief explanation about the story of our current project?’’ 

‘‘Miss Y/N?’’ 

‘‘Y/N?’’ 

Light, red and yellow mixes and crushes down when something hard nudges at your shoulder and brings you the reality. Shake of your body startles Namjoon, who was nudging your shoulder to wake you up. Pairs of eyes currently stares at you, wide, curious and surprised, too, as no one expects you to fall asleep in the middle of an important meeting. But, you did anyway. Surprising yourself with such an action, yet you lost control of your sleep schedule way before this meeting, so you weren’t that ashamed as the sleep still lingers around your head. 

Blinking, blinking, blinking for a couple of times before your vision loses its blur, and the faces look way better to your own eyes. Shock still fresh on their faces, a weird sound rises by your throat as you try to clean it before talking. Namjoon holds his laugh back, but you can see it in the redness of his cheeks and the veins that struggle under his skin. 

‘‘I-’’ you clear your throat, once again as it comes hoarse from sleeping. ‘‘I’m sorry, can you say it again?’’ Mr. Lee stares directly into your eyes, he opens his mouth but closes again. And you know you will try to drown yourself in the sink if the corner of his mouth hasn't curled up. 

You sigh, before he asks again, and listens to your explanation. You try to keep it smooth, and once you start to talk about your work, all the sleep leaves your head, enthusiasm fills it place. 

You love your work. Falling asleep doesn’t mean the opposite. 

‘‘I swear to god if you won’t stop laughing, Kim-’’ 

‘‘But..- but you told the story of our new game, drool drying on your chin, with such an enthusiastic manner.’’ Namjoon’s giggles cut himself, palm hangs in the air, other on his knee. A manager who is in his thirties enjoys his coworkers suffer, laughs his lungs off. Such a mature man. You sigh, hand curled around the cup full of water for you to go to the bathroom after. Countless times. 

Fingertips pinching the tip of your brows, you stand on the kitchen side of your office. Shame still red on your face, you barely able to hold yourself back from either crying or smashing the cup on your friend’s head. Which, you like the last option very much. It’s a shame that you possibly couldn’t do that here. Maybe later, on one of your movie nights. 

‘‘I think it was cute, though.’’ the man in his much more formal clothes rather than his usual sweatpants and his shirt enters the kitchen side. Brown hair brushed neatly on the left side, his features look good. ‘‘Don’t pressure yourself anymore. I’m sure they are used to these things.’’ 

‘‘Thank you for helping my self-reliance to gather itself, but I don’t think it’s that simple, Damien.’’ imitating his smile, even though it’s more faint then he has, you sigh once again. Taking a spot on the table, you let your head fall on it. ‘‘I was literally drooling all over myself. Ugh… such a mess.’’ 

Another laugh escapes by Namjoon’s lips, but he pats your head also. ‘‘Damien is right. You know Jihoon and Yeona will be cool about this.’’ 

You scoff. ‘‘Yeah, but I don’t refer to them by their first names as they are the Ceo’s of this company. Like you,’’ 

‘‘Then you shouldn’t refer to me with my name, too, as I’m your boss.’’ an annoying smirk alive on his mouth, he swipes his body on the table. Gulping down his coffee, his stares never leaves you. Something hot, almost burning coils in your chest. Reminding you red, as you stare at him back. Mouth wrinkled, your breath felt heavy. 

It was anger and you didn’t know how to pressure it back where it came from. Even before your pregnancy, you weren’t good with handling your emotions, but now. With so many hormones not knowing what to do, you were even worse. Sudden crying sessions, constant fury always ready to burst out, and the sneaky, dark anxiety getting you at the worst moment, where you were alone and in the dark. It was hard, and too much. Even before being pregnant, and while being pregnant. You weren’t good with them. 

‘‘You know what, I decide not to cook for you anymore.’’ heartbreak flashes in Namjoon eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest. ‘‘You can buy your own chicken breast from somewhere and eat that shitty sauce.’’ 

‘‘Ouch..’’ Damien who is currently watching the cold vibrations coming from you, stays silent after your gaze lands on him. He is scared, and not ready to be the next target of your stinging tongue. Though, it doesn’t last that long. 

Once you see the tremble of Namjoon’s lips, and his hug follows his sorry’s, your coldness melts away. Shame creeps back, sits heavy as you lower your head on the table. But before you can dive in your bad scenarios in your head, brutal yet familiar bickering starts when Nara enters the kitchen, after she takes her place on the table. Her nose crinkled with disgust while waiting for Namjoon to end his insults, only to throw another to him. Damien tries to cut them off, but it’s useless as he gives up and rests his back on his chair. Hesitant stares gather on you, only to tear them apart while you pretend like you didn’t notice. 

Yet, you don’t want to suffocate yourself with your thoughts, you raise your head, eyes meeting with the brown haired man. Because you don’t and probably can’t break that cold war between your friend and Nara, you find your escape on Damien. 

‘‘So, we have to prepare a meeting for you to put a suit on?’’ cocking your brow high, you ask. His surprise fades after a moment of waiting. Maybe because you aren’t the warmest person or because of the effect of your friends that filled your head with the idea of him having some feelings for you, you never attempt to talk with him first. Not that he isn’t a decent man, but more likely, you weren’t into him and did not want to make a wrong move. For him to get the wrong idea. 

But maybe you are being stupid for believing your delusinal friends about his feelings, and he just wants to be friendly. Though, it’s good to not risk anything, right?

‘‘Suits just not my type, and also, who is wearing these other than him?’’ Damien points Namjoon, who is in a deep, hurtful conversation with your other coworker. You tear your eyes from him to land on Damien once again, his smiling this time. Wide, eyes imitating it. ‘‘Also, doesn’t it hurt your feet? You weren’t wearing heels for a long time.’’ 

After he mentions it, your feet start to pulse with pain. Embarrassment clouded all over your other senses, but his words bring them back. And you wrinkle your face in pain. Of course, it hurts. How it won’t hurt while your feet try to set themselves free by growing bigger inside of its cage and the process isn’t an easy one. Though, these whining are the last thing for your coworker to hear so you simply go with a soft smile. 

‘‘Yeah, a bit but nothing I can’t handle.’’ 

‘‘Oh okay then. Good to hear.’’ he leans closer, eyes gleaming like a child in his pre-mischievous stage. ‘‘Just in case, I have a pair of nice sneakers waiting in my closet. All comfy and less deadly.’’ 

Mirroring the act, you also get close to him. Palm covering the side of your curled mouth, ‘‘I will consider it, but why are you acting like you were selling drugs?’’ whispering the half of your words, you cocked your head aside, watching his face wrinkle due to his growing smile. And seeing him from this side, you realise how good looking he is. Radiant smile adds more point to his charisma as he does, eyes narrow but curls cutely on the ends, and for a second you just stare at his side profile. His spotless skin dips on the cheek as his dimple wants to show off. Thankfully, when he starts to talk the silvery sheet goes away, to your luck. 

‘‘Well, we won’t want other heel wearers to come at my desk for my fancy shoes, right?’’ 

Nodding, you point your finger at him as if he made a good point. ‘‘I see… Of course we wouldn’t want that, of course.’’ 

After the short break, everyone turned in their work the same as you. And you find yourself so tired after talking about the details of the story of your current game with Heejin. Trying to find reliable reasons and motives is hard for some time, as you continue to work on the specific character’s choices in the game, and why and exactly how they should do is sometimes irksome even when you have someone who tries really hard to help you. Yet, you know you can’t put all the weight on Heejin’s shoulders as the poor woman barely had some sleep because of the pre-cold effect. 

When she sneezed for the fourth time in the last five minutes, you had to stop and be sure of her well being. Putting your palm on her clothed arm, you mimicked a smile to look sympathetic rather than annoyed. Even though you were a little bit. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to know that. 

‘‘I know I asked this before but are you sure you are okay? Maybe you should take a rest for the rest of the day. Obviously, you need some.’’ 

She looks hesitant at first, eyes widens at your words but she covers it with a faint smile and nods. ‘‘Oh, I’m okay, I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me.’’ Heejin bites down her lip before continuing again. ‘‘Did I annoy you? I’m sorry, I just took a pill, so I think that will make me better in a couple of minutes.’’ 

‘‘No, no…’’ pulling your hands in the air, you shake your head in denial. It did bother you but not much for her to apologize for being sick. ‘‘I just wanted to check on you, I’m not… disturbed. It’s okay.’’ 

Your half reassurance works barely, as she tries to lower the voice of her sneezes after that. And everytime, a drip adds to your growing guilt. As Heejin is younger than you for three years, and you have been working here longer than her, it puts some stairs between you two and now with that, you fix the ice between you two. The ice that you have been trying to melt from the first day she was here, and now, thanks to your pregnancy hormones, it started to build once again. Not just with Heejin, but everyone around you was walking on eggshells around you as your rage came out of nowhere, so sudden that sometimes it even shocks you. But for a stupid reason - well, it’s not stupid as you are pregnant and that played with your emotions -, you couldn’t control the sudden change of your feelings. 

One second being calm and the other being tense did tire you for sure as senses flow through every nerve you have. Breathing exercises merely helped, and that led you to staying away from the people around you. As sometimes words come out rude before you can realise. And nobody deserves that kind of attitude, even the ones you know from your childhood. 

For that reason, you turned down Taehyung’s offer to come with you as you know that owing to his nature, he will do something silly to make you angry or stressed even when he does it with all his good intentions. Some days, even when you are in your usual state you can’t stop being bothered by him, and you had no intentions to taste it today. Which, nothing was normal in your current mental state, so that’s for the best. 

Driving past the now familiar streets, you learned a new thing: Driving with a jean without opening its button can be hard, as you have to undo the button while your stomach growls in need. While your stomach become visible, looking like you ate too much for your stomach to handle, sudden thirst for stupid cravings increased day by day. Sadly, it affected your friends as much as you. 

In the middle of night, you woke Yoongi up for him to get you apples, pickles for Taehyung and last but not least, ice cream for Namjoon. As your cravings decide to choose the oddest times, three of them find the solution to fill your fridge until there is no space left. Well, after you sat on your kitchen floor and cried they had to eat some of them with you, as they basically called you fat by doing that, and paid for it. For them, they just wanted to make sure you get what you want but at this point, what they thought barely mattered. 

‘‘Okay, that was tiring.’’ you whispered through your exhale, while parking the car. For the records, parking turned into a hell show for you as going further and back, further and back, further, further and back has your nerves strain like a string. Though, you never liked it anyway. You were ready to leave your car, but the ringtone of your phone cut the act. 

‘‘Hey, mom.’’ 

‘‘Nope. Your voice sounds the same, rather than I thought so.’’ sighing, you brushed your face by your palm. Words like a needle on the skin, your mother always knew how to use them. ‘‘Well don’t ‘ahhh’ at me. As we barely speak, I obviously expect to forget your voice, tell me if I’m wrong.’’ 

Nodding as if she is able to see you through the phone, you put your head on the wheel. She was annoyed as it was very clear by her high and thin tone. 

‘‘Yes, Ma’am.’’ your reply earned another high pitched warning from her so you had to calm her between your giggles. ‘‘Okay, okay… You’re right, Mama. I should call you more but you know work and everything keeps me busy. But I will try my best, promise.’’ 

‘‘Apology accepted. But even though I know you prefer to talk about work, and the video thing you adore talking about, I’m most likely interested in my baby’s baby. So, how’s the pregnancy going?’’ 

This is the exact reason why you didn’t call her more than you did. As she is very interested in your life and interior with it, of course pregnancy will be the same. And you couldn’t ignore the things you can as she will talk about them, will want to know about them and give some advice from her past experiences. Not that you will need any of them, but of course as you postponed everything, you did the same thing to this topic, too, and left your mother in the dark. You will run as far as you can. 

‘‘They called games, not video thing but it’s your choice.’’ while thinking of it itched your tongue, you swallowed all the tensing thoughts down, and ready yourself to talk. ‘‘And the… pregnancy is going good if we don’t count the constant eating, peeing, crying, being tired twenty-four-seven, not fitting in my favorite clothes and all the pain it put me through.’’ 

She laughs as if you just told the funniest joke she heard. Cocking your brows, you run through what you said to make her laugh this much to fail. 

‘‘Ohhh, my baby. Stop talking about this as the things are all bad. You have a baby in your belly, your baby. They will become your everything, and mostly good things because you will love them more than anything you can. Believe me, I could die in return for your laugh. A bubbly, vivid laugh. Ahh… remembering it made me soft, right now.’’ 

‘‘Trying to be unbiased about gender, I see?’’ 

‘‘Well, I don’t want to affect the baby.’’ 

Though you want so bad to ask how that could actually affect the baby, you stay silent. All the baby talk is already pulling you down, it is better if you can stay out of the gender topic as much as you can. Not that it mattered, you thought. 

‘‘What do you mean? Why it wouldn’t matter darling?’’ 

Huh? 

Clearly, you weren’t thinking, but murmuring under your breath as your mom heard it. When you hit your head on the wheel, the horn startles you both. Fixing your posture, you answered your mother’s hurried question. 

‘‘It was horn, I’m in the car. Yes, yes I’m okay, don’t worry. I’m at the hospital- No, no- Mom, for the appointment. Yes… yes, for the baby. I will talk to you later, okay? I will call, I promise- Yes, I promise. Okay, love you, too.’’ 

You sigh once again. A loud one. 

You do hate lying to the woman who would do anything you want, but you know she is not ready to lose her grandchild, yet. You are not ready for the speech you will receive, also. Not that it will be harsh or critical, you just are not ready to accept the whole thing. Yes, you still had problems with the whole pregnancy thing even though you made your mind with adoption. You still had thirty weeks to go, and that won’t go fast. Not in a normal time, or in the pregnancy. 

Head full of blurring thoughts, you missed the man who shakes his hand from afar. The black haired man’s smile faded as you passed by his side without sparing a glance. Too busy with thinking how to calm your mother after you give her the news. The news that she won’t have a grandchild anytime soon. Fuck… that’s gonna be hard. 

Well, maybe not hard as much as the door you decide to welcome it with your face rather than opening. A loud thud, and muffled curse under your breath, instinctively you checked your nose if there is more than the pain you feel, as there is no blood you calm down, shoulders drop their usual place. Apparently, you were conscious enough to lead yourself to the floor where your doctor’s office, past the stairs, and find his door but when it comes to open the door you fail. Tears sit on your eyelids at once as you close them due to the pain that crushes your sight. Trying to massage your nose bridge barely helps but giving it a try won’t hurt, you think. 

‘‘Oh my, are you okay?’’ from your closed and blurred eyesight, you can’t choose who is the one talking but his voice lets you know that he is your doctor, Seokjin. ‘‘I heard a loud thug but couldn’t understand it was a human until you groaned. Are you okay, you bumped your nose? Let me get a look at that.’’ 

Not forgetting to thank him while he guides you inside his office, now you are able to open your eyes and set the tears free as they go down. Seokjin sits you on the white sheeted chair, handles your head to go right and left as he scans your face and nose behind creased eyes. He looks really concerned, more than you, and somehow it puts you on a stage where you feel like you have to make him sure that you were okay and nothing was wrong. It still feels weird when someone gets concerned over you more than yourself, as who would care for someone more than one’s self so it’s still vague. 

‘‘I-I’m actually okay. I didn’t hit that hard as it sounds, it doesn’t even bleed so…’’ wry smile is all you offer him as your voice trails down when his eyes meet with yours, a bit keen rather than you thought they will. 

Seokjin sighs with a line between his brows but he lets go, and when he puts a decent distance between you and himself, professionalism settles in his features as he adjusts his tie. 

‘‘It does look okay, but make sure you put some ice when you can as it could leave a bruise behind.’’ he smiles, both sweet and very technically. As he practiced it for every client he had and now performing it without any difficulties. It looks natural. ‘‘So, tell me how are you feeling? You should still have the early pregnancy symptoms such as morning sickness, sleep issues, and more likely they will hang around for a few more weeks. But it’s more important if you have a symptom that comes unnatural or unbearably painful for you?’’ 

After taking two deep breaths, you feel ready to give him a reply. Nose still throbs by the hit but it’s faint now. 

‘‘Uhm…- yeah, other than the ‘expected’ symptoms, I don’t feel like something is wrong, or not supposed to happen. No more painful urination, though I still need it frequently.’’ you grimace lightly as you share, shifting a bit. ‘‘But yeah, I’m okay.’’ you try to wipe the fresh embarrassment with the non glowing smile you had in your storage. Probably he should but you still don’t know if he needs to know that you choose adoption. As he is your doctor, and the one who is taking care of you and the baby, you know that he must know about it, but unpleasant eerie stops you from doing what you should.  

Old habits die hard, that’s for sure. 

‘‘Excellent. It’s good to hear that everything is going on it’s way, and today, as now you are in the tenth week of your pregnancy, I’m recommending you a genetic test in case there is any birth defect.’’ 

‘‘What is that?’’ even though Seokjin was done with talking, you utter so fast that it feels like you interrupted him, as you shut your mouth with wrinkled brows. It was just getting tiring day by day with all of these tests, things to do and not to do, being extra careful because you have another living creature in you to take care, more than yourself. No more selfish, damaging, stupid choices can be done as your body no longer belonged to you. At least not only to you and this was really, really tiresome. 

As he was expecting this, Seokjin comes up with some papers as you can understand them. ‘‘As I said before, it’s a test to acknowledge any kind of defect in the baby. These tests take two forms: screening tests and diagnostic tests. And a screening test tells you the likelihood that your baby could have a birth defect; a diagnostic test tells you with more than ninety nine percent certainty whether the baby has the disorder.’’ He explains more as you take the papers from him, scanning the words but they are almost identical as Seokjin continues with his further explanation. The blank eerie gets heavier and heavier the further he talks, and when he comes to the risks, it feels like your pulse palpitates on your throat. Tearing your eyes from the papers that sit on your lap, you stare at the man who is still talking. 

‘‘There is small risk of miscarriage, that’s why you need to carefully consider tha advantages and the disadvantages of these test before you make any decision, even it’s small.’’ 

A slap to the face, a weight falls on your stomach after Seokjin is done with his statement. Mouth hangs open, you stay still, silent as the Doctor waits patiently, now he is behind his desk, sitting his hands intertwined. As if he knows the new information would put a heavy dullness in you as he searches your every movement, yet you gave him hardly any. 

‘‘Do I… have to?’’ 

The idea of taking these tests would be tiring is there but the cause of your nausea is not just that. More likely, it’s the idea of losing something. Even though that something doesn’t belong to you because you never wanted it, and nothing has changed since then. Whether it's the guilt of knowing everything caused because of your recklessness, or it’s because you feel obligated to give the baby a good life due to your current maternal instincts - you hardly say you had one -, whether it’s beside you or far away from you, you feel the suffocating necessity. Even if the risk has one percent chance, you can’t take it. Maybe it’s odd to push your one percent chance to become free with the back of a hand, but that would be running away, and both of you already had one runner in your lives, and the baby wouldn’t need another. 

‘‘I know it sounds scary but you can take your time, you don’t have to do it now. You can search it a bit more about the cons and pros but I never had any problems with my former clients if you need any consolation. And you can always ask for me more.’’ 

Chewing your bottom lip, you still look at him in the eye like you need to give him an answer. You do trust your doctor but that doesn’t mean that you purposely rejected the idea of getting abortion while you deal with an unwanted pregnancy only to come across with a risk of miscarriage. Of course it is always there whether you do the test or not, but that's nearly a consolation. 

Nodding, you put all the papers in your bag before leaving the doctor’s office. Biding your goodbyes after ending with this week control. 

You come to the hospital with a dazed head, and you were going to leave it even more wrecked. But you just needed some air, somewhere to ease the wave of emotions that is going through your head. To catch your breath, you adjust your route to the cafeteria in the outdoors. Maybe, that could help you somehow. 

Not temporarily, but taking fresh air in your lungs somehow helped you. The phone call you had with Taehyung while you were at the verge of tears, too, and you sit in the cafeteria during all of these. Mimicking the doctor's words to your friend and Taehyung had listened to you, hang on your every word as much as he can on the other side of the line. Tried to console you, said that things will be alright and nothing bad will happen as if he was as sure as his name. And momentarily, you believed him. Both because you needed it, and he was being a good friend and you didn’t want him to feel useless. 

For good or ill, now, your heart is resting in ease. 

Well at least it was until you see a glimpse of dark uniform in the corner of the wall, and then a familiar face you haven’t seen in a while. A smile that softly shaped as heart, causing your heart to palpitate fast but in a much different way than the news you learned today, or the idea of your mother's future disappointment. It’s more thrilling and in a way even scarier than the other two options. As the opposite of how familiar the face is, the reason for your heart going this insane was abrupt. Even odd when you think the very less time you spent with the owner of the familiar face, yet it was there, forcing you to gulp down, consume every emotion he forced you to feel. 

Contrary to what you expect - and you didn’t know why you were expecting him to be happy after seeing you - his face falls, the shape of heart shutters around his mouth. And to your shock, it put needles somewhere near to your chest. 

The last time you saw him, the atmosphere was intense as you shared things that normally you wouldn’t do with a partially stranger but with him even though feelings were gloomy, you weren’t uneasy. And to you, when he was consoling you, internalizing what you were telling him, he wasn’t disturbed. At least he didn't look like that. But, the more you size him up, the more you get sure of his strange disturbance. And it did burn. Smoke choked you down, and put tears on your eyes. Fucking pregnancy hormones…

Not aware of your action, you caught your hand in the air, in the middle of a shake as Hoseok greeted you by the tiny bow of his head. And expecting more cutted harsly, as a knife in the gut. 

Whether it’s because of your blind act, or whether he feels obligated, Hoseok comes closer to the table you were sitting, leaving the person behind he was talking to before he saw you. With every step, you breathe another air to gather your confidence a bit high, but it’s useless as your hands start to tremble under the table, fortunately away from his sight. 

‘‘H-hi,’’ no matter how much Hoseok tries to sound friendly, it’s not, and you can hear in his voice as it comes out broken. His eyes are still deep and candid but not glowing the way it fascinated you when you first saw him. Still, you greeted him with a tight smile, wave of your hand small. 

‘‘Take a seat-’’ pointing the available chair, you cut yourself to say something else. To correct your words. ‘‘I mean if you want… of course,’’ 

To your surprise, he holds the chair to adjust for him to sit on. But everything feels so forced and awkward that you can’t stop wondering if you said something to him and cause him to feel uncomfortable around you. Your brain works so hard to scan the memories of that day, but you fail to find something so disturbing to make Hoseok shift in his seat, a line between his brows and a noticeably insincere smile. 

It takes minutes for someone to talk first and scare the clouds away only for a moment. 

‘‘Are you waiting for your appointment or has it already finished?’’ 

‘‘Ah, yeah, it’s done. I just needed to take a moment and fresh air because…’’ your voice eventually trailed off as you realised he just asked to look friendly and probably doesn’t want to hear your whelming emotions anymore. ‘‘of stuffs, you know.’’ 

Hoseok nods, his mouth thin as a line, and even though it shouldn’t, it breaks your heart. Yes, this man owes you nothing, and of course he doesn’t have to sit there and listen to how sorry and depressed you feel over the things doctor Seokjin have told you, but it still hurts to see him this… joyless. The curiosity burns deep and wild as you desperately want to know what the hell you did to make him this anxious, but your mind barely helps as you wander in the empty field. 

‘‘I should probably get going-’’ 

‘‘It’s been a while-’’

Words clashing and drowning one another, silence takes over and Hoseok abruptly stops above his chair as he was about to leave before you parted him. And now he looks at you with wide eyes, fear in his chest growing big as your bottom lip trembles for only a second but he catches it. 

He sits back on his seat with hands on the air. ‘‘Oh, yeah, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.’’ he says but you know it’s out of pity, and you would rather die than crumbling under his gaze. So you shake your head with a false smile, though hammers work in your chest. 

‘‘Ah, don’t mind me. Go ahead, you are probably busy and have so much to do. So, you can leave, seriously.’’ 

‘‘No-, no, no, Y/N. I’m sorry, I want to stay and talk to you, really. I really am sorry for acting rude.’’ 

Maybe because the look on his face, or the warm tone of his voice, you decide not to pressure him to leave after you ask if he really wants it for a second time. But he nods and smiles, and this time it reaches his eyes, a hot pink blossoms in you. 

Though, before either of you can say anything, a touch at your back stops you. You hear the breathy voice before you turn your head. ‘‘Ahh, finally I found... you. Care to explain why you are-...not picking your phone?’’ 

And when you turn over, you see a panthing Yoongi. His hand on his knee and looks at you with concerned gaze. Then, they leave you only to land on the man on the other side of the table, and Yoongi’s eyes go wide. 

He extends his hand in a non-moving shake to the air. ‘‘Oh, hi. Sorry to butt in.’’ he stretches his hand towards him, the ghost of a smile appears on his lips. ‘‘It’s Yoongi,’’ 

Voice deep, and it takes long to draw out when the man in dark uniform mirrors the act. ‘‘Hoseok.’’ 

[geekinator]

I did this as a three part series, because I just can’t get enough Beifong in my life and thinking about them brings me immense joy.

Here’s the first two:

And last but not least:

The Beifong family is the best thing that ever happened to Avatar and quite possibly my life. The thing I love most about them, though, is how human they are. They are the epitome of what happens when life is messy and emotions are raw and people do stupid things and life doesn’t go as expected. Each and every one of them is batshit crazy, and I love them for it. Here’s my take on the illustrious Beifongs. Last is Su.

Suyin: An Analysis

Oh, Su. What can I say? Su is just as complicated as the rest of the Beifongs. Su is no saint but neither is she a devil. Su is human, and that’s about all there is to it.

Su obviously took her mother’s absence in a very different direction. I would imagine that both Toph and Lin were very excited to welcome Su. However, very shortly Lin is old enough and probably mature enough to watch her, which leaves Toph free to be Chief, which means Su is shortchanged in her time with her mom. I don’t think Toph sat them down one day and was like ok girls I’m going to be spending more time at work so Lin you’re in charge. I think she just slowly wasn’t really needed at home (at least not in a way that computed in her mind) and she just kind of drifted away.

Well if I’m Su and my big sister starts bossing me around I’m like ok no that’s not happening, and she obviously started to resist it. However, saying “I was more of a rebel” is like saying “that ghost pepper is a little spicy”. Like Su, honey, there’s a rebel and there’s criminal enterprise. It’s not the same thing, and even later in life she obviously hasn’t made that connection.

Whether because of her absence, or because she perhaps saw herself in Su, Toph turned a blind eye (pardon the pun). It’s also obvious that Toph isn’t even aware of half the stuff that goes on. And because she’s clueless, Toph probably doesn’t believe Lin when she tells her. Whatever the case, Su is that kid who could do anything or say anything and get away with it, while Big Sister probably sneezes wrong and everyone glares at them, because they’re older and supposed to be more mature. Lin at this point is beyond frustrated with Su.

So here we go, Su steps out of the car and I’m sure Lin is feeling a lot of things. Probably like she failed her little sister, angry because WTF Su, and maybe even a little vindicated. Now Toph will HAVE to pay attention. Su is the dumbest bitch this side of Whale Tail Island, however, and actually thinks that Lin is going to let her walk away. Well of course she’s not, duh. But Su is so full of anger and frustration, that she lashes out.

When I say Su is full of anger and frustration, I mean that as much as Lin kept a lid on it, Su did, too. Su had less time with Toph at home than Lin did, which wasn’t fair. Su had to put up with Lin mothering her, when she wasn’t actually her mother and only a few years older than her. Su had very little direction in her life, from anyone. Su was obviously very impressionable. Those two idiots she was with probably could have convinced her to commit Grand Theft Auto, and it wouldn’t have taken much. If things hadn’t gone down the way they did, Su probably would have ended up dead or as a true villain.

Hm, excuse me while I jot down a story idea.

Anyways, my point is, Su had just as many feelings as Lin, her bottle just looked very different. So in a moment of pure anger she lashes out when Lin tries to arrest her. I believe she regretted it, and here’s why: she’s in Toph’s office with Lin. Had Su been completely devoid of any feeling, she would have run away and never looked back, or at least tried to rationalize it. Toph is obviously fully aware of what went down; she asks both of them what they were thinking, so even though Su’s not saying sorry she’s not sitting there trying to deny it. She knows she got caught. She may not be sorry, but she’s still sitting there in the office. Frankly I give her points for that. Not many, but a few.

If I’m Su, I know I did wrong but I don’t care. So I love to hear Toph ask Lin what she was thinking, too. I’m like ha! Yeah, you tear up that report, Mom! But wait, I have to leave the city? Holy shit, did not see that coming! So now the mom who I didn’t have much time with in the first place and has been largely absent is sending me away to my grandparents (and who knows how well she knew them) where only the Spirits know what’s going to happen then. Well this sucks. Not an excuse for her shitty behavior but it still sucked for her.

So then she goes traipsing around the world to prove to herself she is outside the realm of rules. She finally settles down with Bataar Sr and builds Zaofu. Her ideals still seem to be based on the idea of life without limits, which fits her history. She seems more like someone who creates opportunities than someone who makes a lot of rules. Aiwei calls her the matriarch so she’s not exactly in a position of true political power, at least not in name.

I truly believe Bataar loves Su and that he is a good husband and father. I also believe that for the most part, Su is a good mom. Here’s why: her kids are quite well-adjusted. Except for Bataar Jr who seems to have inherited her impressionable nature. But Wing and Wei are cool and obviously very accomplished, Opal is rather prissy but she does have some good qualities, and Huan is very passionate about his banana art. They’re kind of a fun family. Su tells Korra that she always wished Lin were a part of her life, and I believe her. I really think Su misses her big sister. She and Lin are alike in that what they want most is their family to be intact.

After the fall of the Earth Queen, Su says she doesn’t want to impose her ideals on the nation. Again, she doesn’t like rules, so she's not going to go around telling everyone else what to do. I don’t agree with that decision but it is consistent with her character. Her decision to try and assassinate Kuvira I believe comes from a desire to protect those around her, anger at Kuvira for betraying her and taking her son away from her, and guilt because it was her inaction that precipitated the whole thing in the first place. It’s a stupid ass decision, and is an emotional one. Su seems to be ruled by her emotions, from the first time we see her until the end of the series, which is interesting because she does keep her cool most of the time. Emotional people are like that, though. I’m ok until you make me mad or feel something and now I have to do something about it. Oftentimes they resent the person who made them feel it, and blame them. Su definitely falls into that category. Because she is so governed by her emotions, she tends to rush headlong into things without seeing the long game, or the risks. When she gets caught, she knows she messed up. But now Korra has to come and save her, Su knowing full well she’s not ready. But Korra tries anyways because even though Su is incredibly stupid and selfish, she is a friend and they still care about her. Anyone who watches Dragons Race to the Edge, it reminds me of Snotlout, when Astrid says he’s a muttonhead, but he’s their muttonhead. For better or worse, Su has become one of them.

Quite frankly, I like Su. I think her biggest faults are that she tends to follow her emotions which gets her into trouble and she doesn’t really like to acknowledge when she’s wrong, even though she definitely knows she is. Neither of those things are traits that I would consider unforgivable. I don’t think she and I would be bosom buddies but she is an interesting person. I would be endlessly frustrated with her and probably tell her I told you so a lot. But Su is there when it counts. She defeats P’li and helps defeat Kuvira. She helps save Korra and teaches her metal bending, and she is quite cheerful. As far as Lin forgiving her I feel like that was more for Lin than Su, just like forgiveness is for everyone. For anyone who says Lin deserves better, keep in mind this is her little sister who she loves very much. There’s history there and families are messy and complicated and I for one trust Lin. Lin also doesn’t just jump in, she tells Su she just won’t show up and attack her. They only become more involved because that’s how things played out. Lin is very sincere when she tells Su that she loves her, and it almost seems like the first time Lin has said those words out loud, based on Su’s expression.

Su may not have known or believed it before that. Right or wrong, good or bad, Su is family, and families are stupid and crazy. Like I said before, Su is no saint, but she’s no devil either. She makes shitty decisions and yes people have to keep coming to her rescue, but I think her heart is in the right place. I really do.

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Contagious

           Your dad, Sebastian, is sick. And your only jobs are to take care of him and not get sick.

-

           You walked the aisles of the grocery store, blindly grabbing everything your dad asked you to get, when your phone rang for about the third time in fifteen minutes. You couldn’t lie. You were getting a little frustrated with your dad’s constant calls.

           “What?” You asked him, sighing as you stopped in the middle of the cracker aisle to let someone through.

           “Can you also get ginger ale?” He asked.

           “I’ll add it to the list. A two liter or cans?”

           “Cans?”

           “Okay.”

           “And can you go to the pharmacy too? They should have something for me that’s slightly…” Your dad’s voice faded into a sneeze. You blessed him, said you’d go, and hung up the phone. He’d been sick for about a week, ever since he’d gotten off an international flight, and nobody was sure of what it was. He was only sure that he had never felt so bad in his life. You’d taken him to the ER, even, and all they’d said was that they didn’t know either.

           An hour later and you’d gone through half of Manhattan, including going to one of his favorite Romanian restaurants to find his favorite soup. His mom would normally come down, but she wasn’t feeling well either and you didn’t want her to get sick. The doctors had said it was very possible for you to get sick, too, but you were all your dad had and you barely ever got sick anyway.

           “I’m back with your drugs!” You called into the house, putting everything down on the kitchen table. You got a can of ginger ale, his food, and carried it along with the medicine into his bedroom, where he was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, blanket around his body, and a box of tissues was right beside him. He was sweating, but he still looked cold.

           “Hey, sweetheart,” your dad said, “thanks.”

           “I got some soup for you, too. You need to eat something.”

           “You’re one to talk. Have you eaten anything all day?”

           “Not really. I ran down to your agent’s office to drop off that contract, then the restaurant, then the store, and then the pharmacy. So no. I’ve been running around for you all day.”

           “Then get a fork and sit with me, I’m bored.” You laughed. Your dad was the worst adult you’d ever met, so much so that your grandmother constantly asked you to watch over him instead of the other way around. You both ate takeout most nights, and then leftover takeout the next day, neither of you ever knew where anything was, you hired someone to clean because you didn’t want to do it yourselves, and you both had no sleeping schedule whatsoever. It wasn’t rare for him just to not wake you up for school because he thought you should sleep a little more. Right now, though, he was the biggest mess in the universe. He’d moved the Playstation into his room and was playing some stupid game that he’d been playing that morning before you even left.

           “Fine,” you said, “what are you playing?”

           “Honestly, I have no idea.” You went into the kitchen and grabbed a fork, walking back into his room. He made room on the bed for you and the two of you ate the food as he continued playing whatever game he was playing.

           Eventually, you started watching a movie and he fell asleep, so you did what any good kid would do. You pushed him until he was lying down, cleared his bed off, turned on a fan, and covered him up with a blanket. You left the TV on, mostly because you didn’t know where the remote was, and you went to bed yourself.

           The next morning, you felt it. Whatever your dad had. It was in you now. You knew because you were sweating so badly that your bed was absolutely soaked. Your muscles were sore, too, and definitely not from walking halfway around Manhattan hunting for everything he needed. You sighed. Maybe you wouldn’t have it as bad as he did. And if he found out you had it, he would blame himself when it was probably your fault. You changed your sheets and grabbed some medication, taking it with a bottle of water, and went to go see what your dad was doing.

           He was in the same place he’d been in yesterday, only he’d evidently made a trip to the kitchen to get more crackers and ginger ale because it was all over his nightstand. He was still on his drugs, blanket pulled over his head, and he looked at you with hollow eyes.

           “You sleep okay?” He asked you.

           “When I wasn’t kept up by you coughing.”

           “I’m sorry, sweetie.” You shrugged and sat down next to him, grabbing the sleeve of saltines and eating a couple. Your stomach had started churning as soon as you had started walking to his room.

           “It’s okay, you’re sick. It’s fine. Just don’t make me go all over the city today?”

           “I’ll order in. You should go do homework or something.”

           “You’ll call me if you need anything?” He gave you a thumbs up and you went back to your room, taking the crackers with you. You doubted he even noticed. But your stomach was hurting just from moving. You had an excuse to stay in your room most of the day, though, so you won that round.

           You spent much of your day like he spent his; you opened your laptop and played the Sims for what was most likely hours. You ate the entire sleeve of saltines and only once got up to steal a can of ginger ale. Finally your dad suggested that you both move into the living room, so you tried to hide the fact that you were sweating out of your mind because of how bad your stomach was hurting by wearing shorts and a t-shirt, even though he always kept the house super cold. You wanted to find a way to sneak off and use the thermometer, just to see if you were actually sick or the food last night had made you that way. Eventually you just said you needed to use the bathroom and hid the beeping noise of the thermometer in your shirt.

           You had a fever. A fever. About the same as your dad’s. 101. A couple more degrees and you would be in trouble, so when you went back you sat closer to the air vent, hoping that it would cool you down a little bit. At least you hadn’t coughed or sneezed yet, you thought, thanking your lucky stars.

           “I actually feel so much better,” your dad sighed finally, about to get up to tune into a meeting he’d called out of earlier. “Thanks for taking care of me, kid.” You nodded, giving him a thumbs up, and tried to hide your clenched fist underneath the blanket. You were about to throw up if you ate or drank anything else. And you had a fear of throwing up. It was one of your least favorite things ever because the last time you’d thrown up, you couldn’t breathe, and then that had sent you into a panic attack where you got sick again.

           “Yeah, you’re welcome,” you said, rolling onto your side. That was a bad idea. That made your entire stomach shift, and not in a good way. No sudden moves, no sudden moves, you told yourself, bracing yourself.

           “You okay?” He asked, looking over at you from the other couch. You shook your head, sitting up, and that made it worse. You ran across the hall, falling to your knees on the floor, and threw your hair to the back of your head. And you threw up. You tried to swallow it down, but that only made it worse. You eventually felt your dad walk into the room, hopefully with some water, and he sat down behind you.

           “I got you sick, didn’t I?” He asked with a sigh. “I heard the thermostat beep but I just thought you were turning it off from when I checked earlier.”

           “Nope. 101,” you cringed, holding onto your stomach like it would make it stop. You threw up once more and then you were done, at least for a little while, and leaned on his shoulder.

           “You’re a fuckin’ mess. You had one job, and that was not to get sick. And what did you do?”

           “I got sick,” you sighed. “Why are you shaming me for…” You gagged again. Your dad handed you a cup of cold water and you drank as much of it as you could.

           “I’m not shaming at you, I’m laughing at you. There’s a difference.”

           “You’re my dad, can you please just take care of me instead of laughing at me?” He actually laughed out loud, helping you up, and handed you your toothbrush.

           “Yeah. Only if you brush your teeth first.” You did what he told you to do and then he was helping you exactly like you’d helped him, even ordering your favorite soup from your favorite place.

           “You know, I wouldn’t be sick at all if you hadn’t gotten me sick.” Your dad playfully whacked the back of your head, causing you to laugh a little bit. You were swaying in the place you were sitting and he chuckled for a second.

           “Yeah, yeah, I know. Lay down before you get motion sickness, I’m not dealing with that.”

           A/N: I’m sorry this is so short! But I hope you like it!

Taglist (if you’d like to be added, just shoot me an ask/dm!): @an-adventureland, @firstangeldragonranch, @ssebstann, @winterreader-nowwriter