#apologies for the ramble i gotta let out my anxiety somewhere

[daz4i]

i have a very long day tomorrow wish me luck

[miraculouscontent]

"Please, get out of my room."

Marinette's hand shook, trying desperately to keep the doll house behind her together enough to protect the Miracle Box. Her gaze fixed on her friends standing there, Rose crouched down to the sad remains of the doll house's roof while the others were looking on in concerned confusion.

Alya stepped forward first, the request apparently denied. "It's nothing, Marinette. We'll help you fix it, don't worry."

Except it wasn't nothing, it was everything, and of course none of the girls could've known that it was everything but it was. She'd barely had the Miracle Box for any time at all and now she was about to be exposed, the doll house feeling like some sort of metaphor for her life.

Raising her voice, Marinette replied strictly, "It's not nothing! Now leave!"

Most of the girls just stared at her, standing awkwardly in place. She asked - no, told - them to leave, and they weren't leaving. Why weren't they leaving?

Her palms were sweaty, making the task of holding up the doll house's wall all the more anxiety-inducing.

Alya huffed, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. "Okay, there's obviously something up—" She crossed her arms. "—and we're not going anywhere until you tell us what it is."

Mylene offered a smile that she clearly thought was reassuring, then held up a bracelet made of yellow threads with five colored beads along them. "We've already given our secrets to this bracelet, so now it's your turn."

Marinette wracked her brain for any memory of said bracelet, wondering if there were a promise she'd forgotten about - wondering if it was an excuse for them showing up out of nowhere - but there was nothing. She didn't even recognize it. Even over the voicemail they'd sent, there was no mention of such a thing.

The wall under her palm wavered, and she had to adjust quickly to keep it in place. She couldn't tell if it was too light or too heavy at this point, but it was ultimately just another thing to worry about that she didn't need. Her gaze flickered to it briefly to make sure it was properly held up, then swiftly focused back on the girls so as to not seem suspicious.

They really weren't going to leave. They were going to force her secrets out of her; force Ladybug out of her, the Miracle Box, everything.

Her stress levels were rising. She was panicking. It was all too much, and she—she...

She snapped.

"I'll—I'll tell you what's wrong!" she began. "You all walking into my room without my permission!"

The girls' mouths all shut in unison, their shoulders tense as they seemed suddenly lost for an argument.

"I didn't want to talk to you, and I definitely don't now!" A particular memory of the voicemail resurfaced, and she was reminded of what they'd said. "I thought you told me that I could talk where and when I wanted to? I thought all of you told me that, and then you showed up anyway?! Why would you lie to me like that?"

The words were bitter, only serving to make her angrier; at them, at herself, and at the whole situation. She hated lying - hated liars - and there was a part of her that couldn't help feeling hypocritical when she had to lie constantly to keep her identity secret.

But another part of her was quick to point out: she lied because she had to. They were lying despite having the choice.

Alya's brows furrowed, and it was hard to tell if she felt genuinely guilty or if she was just trying to think of how save the situation. She glanced back and forth from Marinette to Mylene, then hurriedly took the bracelet and held it out, arguing, "But if we're friends, you have to tell us everything anyway!"

Rose nodded in agreement, fists drawn up to her chest. "And real friends never let each other down!"

Marinette sputtered at first in response, multiple rambling responses trying to come out at once, from reminding them of either their intrusion or their lying to say that they had very much let her down.

Finally, her mouth settled on, "Then I guess we're not friends after all, since I'm letting you down so much! You're always pushing me, and setting things up even when I told you not to, and when everything goes wrong, it's always me who takes the blame, and me who gets teased for it!"

Alix recoiled at the outburst, then averted her gaze, looking somewhere between put off and ashamed as she grumbled, "We were just trying to help."

"I don't want your help! I don't even want you here!"

Marinette breathed shakily, her chest heavily at the emotions building in her chest. She could barely process what was coming out of her mouth and could only wonder how long she'd felt that way. How long had she been holding this in? How much had she been holding in? How long had she thought she deserved to be treated a certain way and took everything like she was the one at fault even if she'd done nothing?

Mental clarity kicked in, Marinette glaring and resolve blazing in her eyes as she asked, "Do you know why I didn't tell you anything?"

They looked on in curious trepidation, obviously not knowing the answer. At first, maybe she hadn't either.

"Because I didn't want you to meddle! Everything just goes wrong and I wanted to just live without worrying about it! I didn't want to  be teased, or talk about Adrien, or be ignored!"

"We don't ignore you!" Alya immediately interjected, taking on an offended tone. "That's why we're here!"

"Then why didn't you know?" Marinette challenged. "You noticed my crush on Adrien, but you didn't notice that I was dating Luka? When he was riding me home from school? When you took all those pictures of us together? I wanted to be left alone to be happy with him without anyone shouting at me about what to do and putting more pressure on me than I already have!"

Rose and Alya shifted in place, not making eye contact.

"You invaded my privacy, you broke my things, and you lied to me! If you're going to make me tell you everything, then—then—" She shook, the tornado of emotions hard to handle. "—then I don't want you as friends! Now get out!"

The girls collectively gaped at her, a few letting out audible gasps and Rose in particular covering her mouth with her hands. Everything went quiet, and Marinette's eyes must've been giving off fire with how any argument lingering on the girls' lips died before they could even come out.

Then, one by one, the girls began to turn and silently walk out of the room, some staying a second or two longer as if Marinette would change her mind if they held to the staring contest a bit longer. Alya was the last one out, her gaze darting up to Marinette one last time in vain.

Marinette just looked away, only reassured that the girls had left when she heard the click of the trap door. She exhaled, her arms stiff and her legs feeling like jelly as everything hit her at once. The gravity of the situation dragged her to the floor, the walls of the doll house falling apart to reveal the Miracle Box to no one but her and the kwami. She'd already cried too many times that day, but the tears were building up again. Anger, sadness, frustration...

Seeing Tikki hover close out of the corner of her eyes, Marinette lamented, "I didn't know what else to do. I didn't have a choice. I was just—and then—and they..."

"I know, Marinette," Tikki said quietly, though it was clear that she had very little comfort to add.

Marinette tried to steady her breathing, but she could see her tears falling onto the floor and knew that she'd lost control of her emotions. In a way, it almost felt relieving, like a weight off her chest that she didn't know had been there, but it didn't stop the terrible feelings from everything that happened that day, and the day before, and the day before that...

"We—" Marinette choked, realizing something and looking up with urgency. "Shadow Moth. He might come after me."

"Ah, but..." Tikki weakly tried to protest, watching as Marinette tried to force herself up.

"Gotta transform. Gotta be ready," Marinette murmured in a daze, her legs wobbling but managing to hold her up. Not letting Tikki get another word in, she hurried to command, "Tikki, spots on."

— — — — —

Marinette hugged her knees to her chest, back against the wall stretching upwards that helped make the bridge where she broke up with Luka. Part of her felt like coming here was some form of self-punishment - a reminder of what she'd lost and why she had to keep it that way - but another part just wanted to be here. It wasn't a good idea to be in her room where everything went down, or where her pictures were, or where the kwami would just remind her of all the things she didn't want to think about. It wasn't like her parents were going to check on her anyway, so she felt it best to be away from it all.

She tried to listen for the melody of the water that Luka had told her about, but every time she thought things were quiet enough to hear it, she would breathe in a little too hard, or Tikki would shuffle around in her purse at a loss for what to say. Marinette sighed in defeat, curling in on herself further and staring at the ground with her eyes half-lidded.

She wished she could go back; back to the day this whole mess started. Maybe she could've avoided Fu, Chloe, and maybe even Alya. She could've stayed in the background, unoffensive and just known as "the clumsy girl," one who didn't lie and leave class unexpectedly with the worse excuses possible. Avoiding Chloe would've meant avoiding her wrath, which meant that there would've been no misunderstanding with Adrien and no "spark" to ignite her crush underneath that umbrella.

Everything would've been so much easier. Maybe she would've met Luka sooner, bumping into him by accident one day and they'd drop all their things, her sketches mingling with his song sheets. They'd apologize and hurry to separate their stuff, then lock eyes and all would be well with the world. She'd stammer out her name when she introduced herself and he'd tease her affectionately, and it'd be okay because she wouldn't be busy being depressed over another guy.

They'd laugh, they'd get along, and there wouldn't be any drama in the way of them getting together. Without her having any responsibilities that would cause her to run off, they'd date, and they'd just... be happy.

Marinette closed her eyes, trying to let herself indulge in the fantasy even if only for a moment. The hold she had on her legs loosened, her hands sliding down until one of her hands brushed the opposite's wrist. She remembered Viperion - Luka - as the hero who thought first just like her and now could never be because of his identity being compromised, yet another by-product of her crush on Adrien in a way.

She exhaled, her thumb futilely brushing over her wrist; over a bangle that wasn't there.

Second Chance...

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, trying to live in fake memories, but when her eyes opened, she still found herself underneath the bridge in a life she didn't want. She stared blankly at the ground, the melody she'd desired still inaudible to her.

It took her a few seconds to realize that the view in front of her wasn't quite what it was before she closed her eyes, and it took a few more to notice the black distressed pants and the shoes splattered with varying random symbols at the corner of her vision. She blinked, unsure if she was seeing properly and wondering if she might be hallucinating after her fantasy, but a quick glance upward caused her eyes to meet Luka's, the brows above them furrowed with concern.

"A-ah," she let out involuntarily, straightening a little. Finally registering that he was there and very real, she inhaled sharply and stood, waving frantically at him as she stammered, "I-I'm so sorry! This is your spot, and I'm taking your spot, and I swear I didn't mean to—" She bent down and brushed her hands along the ground where she'd been sitting, as if she were cleaning it. "—I'll be gone soon, let me just—"

"It's okay," Luka assured while approaching her, his voice even softer than usual but with a tinge of sadness to it.

She stopped, hesitating, then looked back up at him in confusion. They hadn't talked since their break-up and she genuinely thought that he'd be upset with her.

"I'm glad," he said genuinely, "that you can find as much comfort in this place as I do. You don't have to go anywhere."

"...Oh," she uttered, her shoulders easing in mild relief. At least he didn't hate her, she supposed, though the awkwardness in the air was noticeable and she couldn't help noticing that he was keeping a minimum distance of three meters from her.

It hurt.

She fiddled with the strap of her purse, wondering why he was there and how she could've gotten so unlucky as to—well, that part was obvious actually, she'd been unlucky her whole life, but that didn't stop her from wondering what he was doing there. Was it something about his dad, or...?

Against her better judgment, she took a good look at his face, biting her bottom lip guiltily at the tired look in his eyes. He seemed as if he hadn't slept well in a few days, and she couldn't say that she was any different, which made the reason for his expression all the more obvious. It was a terrible feeling, already feeling bad that she made him feel bad and then feeling worse because there was a part of her that was a little glad to have meant so much to him that the break-up actually affected him.  He'd made her feel noticed and seen, something that was rare even amongst her frie—

Ah. Right.

She fidgeted, her feet shifting nervously against the ground. Juleka had been amongst the friends that she'd called out and forced to leave. She wasn't sure how close Luka was with his sister, as most of the interactions she'd seen were when they were in a group, but she was still his family. Did he know?

As if able to sense what she was thinking, Luka spoke up. "Jule told me."

Marinette winced and looked down, ashamed and fully expecting to be reprimanded. She clasped her hands at her waist, trying to mentally prepare herself.

Then, he immediately followed with, "Well, she mumbled it, but I got what she said."

It wasn't quite a joke, but it wasn't anything critical either. Marinette peeked back up at him, her brows scrunched together in confusion. He was smiling sadly, either understanding her or trying to be the sympathetic empath she'd always admired him for.

She averted her gaze, not feeling worthy of making eye contact with him. Sinking back against the wall, she sunk down to her earlier position and muttered, "I-it was for the best. I'm just... better off alone." She flinched at the sting in her chest that the words caused, but continued, "I won't hurt anyone that way. They can't be disappointed in me if we're not friends."

There was a pause, at which point Luka took a few steps closer, still maintaining a distance between them but also closing the gap significantly. "Why do you think you'll hurt people?"

She almost scoffed at that. "You would know why more than anyone, Luka." Though she still avoided looking at his face, she could see his fingers twitch from the corner of her vision. "I lie. I'm a liar! I'm just—" She spread her arms wide. "—I'm going to lie for the rest of my life, and ditch everyone and make them sad and they'll never know why!"

She'd tried to say it in an exaggerated tone to keep things light, but the tears started up. She held them back as best as she could, determined not to cry again when she'd already cried so much.

She heard Luka take a few steps closer, and he observed quietly, "But you don't want to."

"Of course not! But it doesn't matter! I should've known from the start that making friends was a mistake but I did it anyway!" She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "I can't keep friends! I can't keep a boyfriend! I can barely keep this secret a secret!"

She didn't have to see his face to know that he was processing that. "...You can't tell me."

It was a realization for him, a mix of emotions in his voice and none of which she could place. She imagined he'd thought that it was a secret she'd chosen not to share with him, but that wasn't true.

She lowered her hands from her face. "I can't. I mean, not like—physically can't—it's not like the world would end if I did—" She halted briefly, stiffening at an unwelcome memory of Paris destroyed and underwater. "—o-or, maybe it would! But, it was never about trust, Luka! I trust you, I trust you so much, and I want to tell you so bad but I can't! It hurts but I can't! No one's supposed to know!"

She clutched her head, realizing that the conversation was spiraling downwards fast. She was torn between thinking that she'd said too much and then regretting how little she'd said when she'd broken up with him.

Luka took the final steps to close the distance between then, kneeling down to be closer to her level. "Marinette, I—I can't imagine what your secret could be, but it hurts watching you tear yourself apart like this."

"Well maybe that's how it's supposed to be!" she declared as she met his gaze, his eyes going wide in a mixture of pain and shock. She blinked rapidly, trying to fight the tears. "Maybe I'm just supposed to stay sad and alone forever! I have to do it all myself because that's the rule and it's my burden to carry!"

His heart was clearly breaking for her and it just made everything worse. He reached out to her, hovering his hand over her shoulder as a test and then settling it down with a feather-light touch when she didn't pull away. "I won't force you to tell me, and it's hard to say anything when I don't know what you're going through, but..." He hesitated, clearly feeling like it wasn't his place to say but being unable to help himself. "Couffaines break rules when we want to - when we know we have to - and I don't want to see you break instead."

She raised a hand, tempted to pull his hand from her shoulder, but stopped herself. "I-I don't have a choice. It's too dangerous. I can't let people close to me; I didn't even want to break up with you. You're amazing and sweet and I feel like I can tell you anything, but..." She looked down, defeated. "...you deserve better than this..."

He squeezed her shoulder, though whether it was a mix of offense at the comment, an attempt to comfort her, or both, she wasn't sure. "I can only tell you that I'd never tell anyone if I knew." He paused, as if to consider something, then added, "Even if it wasn't me - if it was someone else you trusted - I just don't want you to carry this alone."

She glanced up at him without moving her head, her mouth moving to reply but she ended up choking, then coughing in response to the air she'd just lost. Luka's free hand found her other shoulder as he leaned towards her, all the concern and love she could ever ask for being offered in his eyes.

He seemed to want to continue their conversation, but found something else to prioritize instead. "Do you want anything? Have you drank any water lately?"

The question caught her off guard until she remembered her coughing and mentally acknowledged that she might've been neglecting herself far more than she should've. Luka's hearing was on point, and she figured he must've heard the dryness of her throat.

She let out a small noise instead of a reply, no words given but Luka understood anyway. He stood up, his hands lingering on her for as long as possible before he turned and began to head back to the Liberty.

She watched him go, an ache in her chest even if she knew he'd come back. It reminded her of the day in the TV station where he confessed and she hadn't given him an answer, or when he'd comforted her after the break-up and she'd just taken it without a word back. It was all left incomplete, with him merely giving her  that respectful smile that told her that she only had to say what she was ready for.

But ready for what, exactly? Ready to talk? Ready for him?

Ready for herself?

"...I—" Her mouth moved on its own, her body leaning just slightly towards him as she said the words she'd always wanted to. "—I'm Ladybug."

It was practically a whisper - equivalent to a pin dropping - but Luka froze nonetheless, his foot mid-raise to take a step that never came. He'd heard her, and he finally moved as he turned to look at her, expression unreadable.

That's when the moment caught up with her, and the panic followed suit. "O-oh—oh no. Oh, I said it—you know—you—" She clutched at her capris, desperate to ground herself, but the hyperventilating was beginning to start, almost harmonizing with the sound of Luka's footsteps as he hurried over to her, closing the gap between them much faster than he had previously.

In an instant, he was on his knees in front of her, arms wrapped around her and lifting her slightly as he pulled her into a hug. She gasped in surprise, still blinking back tears as her senses registered that he was there: his body heat warming her, the fabric of his jacket against her face, the calming color combination of blues and blacks, and the faded scent of his body wash.

"L-luka," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry. Y-you're in danger—"

"It's okay," he assured softly, then again as if to be certain that she heard it, "It's okay."

She hesitated, her breathing still uneven, but she willed herself to release her capris - her fingers feeling stiff from how tightly she'd gripped them - so she could grab at his jacket instead. He responded in kind by hugging her tighter; too tight for a normal hug but just tight enough to bring her back down to reality.

"You're not alone anymore, Marinette," he whispered, "and I'm not going anywhere. I love you."

That did it, and the tears overflowed. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to however much fabric her hands could grasp as she buried her face into his shoulder. No matter how strongly she hugged him, he didn't complain, simply letting her take whatever she needed from him.

In the silence of the embrace, she could finally hear the river's melody.

— — — — —

Marinette clasped her hands together on the couch, her breathing starting to steady as she watched Luka pour her fourth cup of water since she'd gotten there, the first three of which she'd downed in mere seconds. It was just the two of them there, which was comforting, as Juleka had apparently gone to Rose's house for the rest of the day and Anarka was... well, Anarka, and wouldn't be back until who knew when.

Luka returned to Marinette with a smile, offering the full cup of water to her. She reached for it, then stopped as she noticed how badly her hand was shaking. Taking a few more controlled breaths, she offered him a smile and gently pushed the cup towards him.

At his confused look, she observed, "You haven't been taking care of yourself either."

He opened his mouth, possibly to argue, then looked away from her, his eyes darting around at nothing. She could see the internal conversation in his head, playing out a scenario where he would try to insist, she would insist back that three cups was more than enough for her and he'd also taken none himself, and they would go back and forth until he relented.

His gaze softened, the conclusion to the mental argument clearly reached as he took a few sips from the cup. Rather than sitting on the couch, he sat down on the wooden table in front of it - a typical Couffaine move - so he could face her. Then, offering her a grateful smile, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

She smiled back at him, but it faltered as she stared at her lap, taking the time to legitimately think about the question. She ran her hands along her legs in a slow motion, hoping that it would stop any shakiness somehow.

"...Scared," she answered. "Nervous. Worried. Anxious." She pursed her lips as she realized that she was just listing off synonyms at that point.

Luka leaned towards her, resting his hand over one of the ones on her lap. "But, better than before?" he guessed.

Eyes half-lidded and fond, she nodded. "Yeah, and..." She turned the hand underneath his upwards so she could hold it. "I'm really glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here too," he whispered, as if to make sure that this moment was only for the two of them.

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each other's presence. Marinette was a mess of emotions, but refused to let go of the hand he'd offered her, her thumb stroking along the back of it.

"...Luka," she said after a few seconds of contemplation.

He didn't respond verbally, but he'd also already given her his full attention, and she knew he was listening.

She continued, "You're the last person I'd ever want to lose. If Shadow Moth finds out that you know—"

"If," he gently interjected, though his eyes encouraged her to go on.

"He'll use you. He'll take advantage of you. I don't want anything to happen to you, but I don't want you to leave either, because I really like you and you make me happy and better and—" She huffed, frustrated by the conundrum. "It feels like it's my fault. If I was stronger, or I wasn't so emotional, I..."

"Marinette."

She looked up at the tenderness in his voice. He set his cup down on the table, then slowly pushed himself off, crouching down in front of her as if to make himself appear as small as possible. His other hand found her free one and he held it, making their hand holding perfectly mutual.

"Do you remember the day we met? When my mom got akumatized?"

She nodded. "Yeah, of course."

He nodded in return, going on to explain, "You needed me to hide you, and I needed you to go get—" He caught himself, half-chuckling as the identity revelation adjusted his memories of that day. "—be Ladybug."

Marinette managed a smile. "You were covering for me, even back then."

He smiled back, looking almost too proud of that fact. "And we needed each other. No one can do everything alone, Marinette, so don't say you're sorry for the feelings that made up the song that's been stuck in my head ever since that day."

She swallowed involuntarily at the reminder of his confession. Judging from his smile widening, he noticed it.

"It's hard learning an instrument all by yourself," he continued, "and sad not having anyone to play to."

"And you want to be the whole crowd?" she asked quietly, her gaze drawn to their joined hands.

"Yeah," he answered, not missing a beat.

She took a breath, knowing it was too late to change things but still wanting to acknowledge the decision anyway. "O...okay. Thank you, Luka."

They exchanged loving smiles, and Marinette could've sworn that the eye contact alone was keeping her heart rate down. The future was still nerve-wracking, but she'd been afraid of it even before she'd told Luka her secret, so at least now she had someone who understood her and who she could talk to about it.

The conversation mutually ended there, but then Luka - wholly unprompted - let out an exaggerated sigh and tilted his head back. Curious, Marinette asked, "What is it?"

He grinned at her, a glint in his eyes that made it clear that he was in a teasing mood now that the atmosphere had lightened. "Does this mean I have to watch Chat Noir flirt with my girlfriend?"

She snorted, opening her mouth to reply before stopping as the words behind the joke caught up to her. She leaned forward and squeezed his hand, eyes wide with hope. "Girlfriend?"

He nodded without hesitation. "You said you didn't want to break up with me, Marinette, and I didn't want to break up with you either."

"Y-yeah, but—" She frowned, conflicted. "I'll still have to leave? Nothing's changed except you knowing why."

"I didn't date you so that we could go on dates," he replied. When she tilted her head in confusion at him, he briefly averted his gaze, a hint of shyness appearing on his face before he steeled himself up and looked back at her, clarifying, "I just wanted to be your boyfriend, dates or no dates."

"Oh. O-oh." And that was all she had to say about that, any coherent words burned away from the blush forming on her face.

Luka smiled hopefully, and Marinette quickly decided that bashfulness looked good on him. "So, if you want to make this work with me, then—"

"Yes!" she replied immediately, untangling her hands from his so she could push herself off the couch.

His eyes lit up, his arms spreading wide as she dropped into his lap, and he didn't recoil when she arched up to kiss him, her movements quick to ensure that there would've been no chance for them to be interrupted. She wrapped her arms around him, neither caring about the awkward position on the floor due to being lost in each other's touch.

There was a soft click when the kiss broke, Marinette promptly pulling herself against him and nestling her face near his collarbone, now able to properly enjoy the scent she'd missed for all those dreadful days they'd been apart.

Following up on what he'd told her underneath the bridge, she tightened her hold and whispered, "I love you too, Luka."

Snuggled so close to him, she swore that his heartbeat picked up, though she didn't have to feel it to know that he was happy, what with the way his hands shook against her and how he placed an immediate kiss on the top of her head. She let herself get absorbed in the moment, allowing herself to smile and think only of Luka, the one who respected her choices and feelings from the day they met.

There was no one else she'd rather share her identity with.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

A prompt idea/suggestion :

Usually Harry is back at home by evening but its almost 10 and he isn't back yet, Draco starts to worry and contacts everyone but got no news of him. Harry arrives just before midnight and draco is not in good state. As soon as draco sees him he hugs him and starts crying. Harry is late because he planning something for draco.

No pressure!

I didn't know how to write this without making this a cliche but perhaps it's supposed to be cliche, I tried my best.

Fidus Amor

Fluff | domestic | Comfort fic

Draco checks outside the kitchen window like a usual routine to see if harry had reached but to his surprise he hadn't, Draco only frowned to himself but didn't thought much about it assuming Harry must be stuck with some last remaining work, he let it be and continued cooking the dinner but lost in making the curry, Draco didn't realise when the clock stroke 10 in the night. He frowned as checked outside the window again but still nothing more unusual than it was 1 hour ago. He turned off the last of stove and placed the dinner on the table, hoping that Harry would enter just then and apologize for being late and ramble on about how there was a chaos at workplace because a niffler left loose but Draco stared at the watch on his wrist, then on the wall, his hand under his chin as he waited for Harry but still no see.

15 minutes later draco picked up a cucumber from the salad and ate, then chewed a few more and ultimately finished the plate of salad but harry still hadn't came home yet. It was unusual of harry to be this late, Draco thought. And just for reassurance when it was finally 10:45, Draco decided to call Ron and Hermione to check if perhaps was at their for dinner that harry might've forgotten to mention this morning but upon calling them, he heard they gave no such invitation and Hermione rambling on behind how they should do the dinner again and maybe go to a new place but Ron had confirmed Draco that Harry left the office pretty soon and nowhere later than 8:30 and wasn't at their place. Reluctantly Draco cut the call ensuring them that everything was fine, when it wasn't.

One by one Draco called everyone on the phone list, the speedial, the people from the pub around the corner, rang the neighbours, called molly too, and for heaven's sake even Ms. McGonagall just in case Harry had managed to reach her out but upon calling almost 15 people at ungodly hour for just a five minute information, he didn't receive any whereabouts of harry because nobody had seen him and told him the same sentence over and over that Harry would come back and Draco had nothing to worry about but that was it, wasn't it, he couldn't help but worry about where Harry had gone.

His mind played the evil card once the clock went beyond 11 and imagined all the worst case scenarios of harry being abducted, fainted on the way that nobody knew of or perhaps harry got lost, or whatever the worst that could happen to him and draco couldn't help but panic and be extremely worried about Harry's whereabouts. He sat alone on the couch, his legs bouncing up and down chewing his fingernails in panic as anxiety washed over Draco like the water at the beach over sand. He remained seated there till the clock stroke 11:20 and just as it went to minute 21, Draco stood up abruptly and paced across the room, opening and closing the door and checking if harry had returned but no matter what he did, nothing offered him peace and that he was nowhere to be seen or heard. He started talking to himself loudly, consoling himself that Harry is absolutely fine and nothing had happened and that he probably just got stuck traveling back in a Muggle transport after all London was a busy City but no matter what he tried he couldn't help but worry more minute by minute. He was just at his last straw almost wanting to burst out and look for Harry himself when the doorknob jingled and harry walked Just Before midnight and stopped dead in his movements and stared at Draco standing in the middle of the living room.

" where the hell have you been ?" Draco snapped loudly knowing he was angry at harry but he couldn't deny the flood of relief that ran through him when and instantly hugged harry almost knocking them both our of the apartment and started crying in his neck.

Stunned by Draco's reaction, he soothed down and tightly wrapped his arms around immediately understanding how he had worried Draco " I'm sorry Draco- I didn't mean to worry you so much "

" well yeah that fixes everything " he sarcastically responded yet didn't release harry even a little bit.

" Draco, I love you but we're at the door " harry smiled

" I don't care " Draco weeped.

Harry sighed lightly and started pushing Draco backward little by little so they could just be inside enough to close the door.

" I had been worried sick about you, you could have just given me a call or owled me or sent a damn mail but you had to be out without telling me. I - I thought- something happened-"

" no- Merlin Draco, no " he sighed as he pushed Draco behind so he could see his face and this time Draco let him.

Harry cupped his face " Its alright, I'm here and I'm so sorry about this. I just- I never wanted you to worry "

" then where were you ? You could've told me instead of all this " Draco whispered.

Harry noticed a dry tear over cheeks and in a sweet moment, he kissed it away then looked at him fondly to realise how much Draco really cared for him and then he said " let me show you something "

Harry took Draco by hands and disapparted to where he had been all evening.

" okay- before you say anything or do, Just know that it's all for good intentions. I wanted to brighten the place up and I know we love our apartment but I know how much you love the big houses, so, I tidied up Grimmauld place " harry explained as he pushed open the door.

" you had been here all this time ?" Draco as he followed behind Harry and into the hallway.

" well yeah but there's more to it. I only started cleaning up this place and I only managed to clean the attic yet, apparently kreacher wasn't very helpful. And I wanted to show you this once it was ready but I think if I don't tell you now, you'd be more worried " harry told.

" tell me what ? Gotta be honest harry, you're scaring me a little bit " Draco said as they walked through the kitchen door and to the backyard and harry disappeared.

" harry ?" Draco called out as soon as he lost sight of harry

" just a second " harry muttered from somewhere and Just then a bunch of scattered lights turned on and harry shone in golden and silver lights from above him.

" harry " Draco muttered as he looked above him, completely awestruck..

" I- know how much you loved those tree house's from the movies and you told me you wished you had one too but since we're obviously too old to be fit into these, but I made one for us and I know we haven't heard from the adoption agency yet but I want that kid to have everything we couldn't have and even everything better. I wanted to show you this after we had heard back from them because I didn't wanted you to get hurt if we get put on hold for long but- I- I think there's no time better. I know I should've waited but ever since we applied I couldn't stop thinking, so I came here almost every night and made this. It's still in progress and it still needs a lot of work but this is a start and I know it would no where be around perfect but it'll be ours- and- I think that's what matters, right ?" Harry hopefully waited for a response but Draco was left speechless, he only suited with staring at harry with such fondness that he perhaps might've never seem him with but just the thought of harry doing this made his heart swell too much that he was worried he'd get a cardiac arrest.

" Draco- say somet-"

" I love you "

Harry's eyebrows spiked up in surprise until his face turned soft and into a grin.

" i don't think I've ever loved you more " Draco said with a small smile and approaching harry.

" well-"

" shush-" Draco placed a finger in his lip with a mischievous smile until he put his hands on Harry's neck and kissed him over the lips softly, showing him in that kiss that he meant the entire world to him, that there was nothing better than this, than them, that how much he loved Harry that he couldn't stop even if wanted to.

" wow " harry chuckled when they separated just as a small joke he could erupt.

Draco rolled his eyes but nonetheless pressed his forehead against Harry's " this is beyond perfect, and that's-because it's ours "

Harry smiled wrapped his arms Draco's torso and pulling him closer if it were anymore possible.

" you could've told me though, I would've loved to help you " Draco said after a while of just having pressed their foreheads together and staring into others eyes.

"I wanted it to be surprise but there's plenty left to do, you can still help " harry shrugged as he turned to the side to watch the tree house.

Draco leaned his head over Harry's shoulder, his arm circling his back " I'd love to "

And harry placed a soft kiss on top of Draco's head, wrapping his arms around the other.

"you'll be a good dad, harry " Draco said after a while, watching harry fondly, his head still on his shoulder.

" so would you. We'll give him or her everything " harry smiled gazing into Draco's eyes.

" everything " Draco said in a faint Whisper only for the words to be delivered just to harry until the wind took it away and they remained there watching the tree house, In each other's presence when there awaited an unnoticed letter in their mailbox from the said agency, but everything could wait, just for this moment, where there was love and nothing else.

My apologies for not having been focused on day prompts in a while but I will try to keep up while working on " Da Capo "

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompts request open

[emy-loves-you]

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 15

Sandwiches and Self-Jealousy

Chapter 14 | Masterlist | Chapter 16

Warnings: Jealousy, half-lying, mentions of abandonment issues

Virgil shot up, surprised by Janus slamming the door upstairs. He stared at his phone. What was he supposed to do? He’s been flirting with his 3 crushes as Anxiety, and they don’t know that he’s Anxiety. Virgil sighed, gathering up what courage he had left. Might as well gather intel.

V- (1:10 PM) You’ve been flirting with THE Anxiety?!?

L- (1:10 PM) More like he was flirting with us.

P- (1:11 PM) You know Anxiety, Kiddo?

V- (1:11 PM) Yeah, I’m a fan of his

V- (1:11 PM) Are you sure that he’s flirting? Last I heard he was dating his bandmates

L- (1:12 PM) He said that he was flirting with me, but I don’t think he means it as a romantic gesture. He seemed more interested in my consent than my unavailability.

V- (1:12 PM) Wait, why were you guys okay with each other flirting with strangers?

R- (1:13 PM) We might all have the teensiest tiny crush on him

Virgil felt his cheeks heat up. They all had crushes on Anxiety? What was Virgil supposed to do with that information? Should he ignore it? Or should he try and be more serious with them as Anxiety, to see if he has a chance as a rockstar instead of a faceless friend?

Virgil suddenly felt something stirring in his gut. It took a few moments to recognize the feeling: Jealousy. Virgil had been pining after his crushes for months. He was not losing his chance to a person they’d only known for a week. Sure, that person was also Virgil, but it was the principle of it, Dammit! Virgil thought about it. While it would be easier to date them as Anxiety, he’d much rather date them as Virgil. Maybe I can give myself a leg-up through Anxiety. Virgil thought about it for several more minutes. This could work. Finally smiling, Virgil turned back to his phone.

V- (1:20 PM) Okay, you guys wanna get closer to Anxiety?

V- (1:20 PM) How does VIP tickets to their next concert sound?

R- (1:21 PM) SERIOUSLY?!?

R- (1:21 PM) YES PLEASE!

P- (1:22 PM) You don’t have to, Kiddo!

V- (1:22 PM) The concert’s on February 17th. Consider it a Valentine’s Day gift from me to you guys.

L- (1:22 PM) The concert is in less than 3 weeks. How do you have VIP tickets? Were you intending on using them, Virgil?

V- (1:23 PM) No, I just know a few people

V- (1:23 PM) By the way, where did you find that album, Lo?

L- (1:23 PM) I am at home right now due to nasopharyngitis. A coworker of mine dropped this off as an early birthday present. He said that I might find it useful. I assume that he saw Anxiety visiting me at the library and recognized him.

Virgil sighed. He’d have to pay more attention. He’d dropped his guard down when interacting with them. He didn’t want anyone else recognizing him.

R- (1:25 PM) Well, I must take my leave. I have lunch with Anxiety today, so I will inform him of our situation.

P- (1:25 PM) DON’T TELL HIM ABOUT OUR CRUSH ON HIM!

R- (1:25 PM) I WON’T!

Virgil swore, getting up. He’d completely forgotten about his lunch with Hottie/Roman. He quickly grabbed his stuff before running out the door. He sent a quick text to Janus, telling him that he had left. He speed-walked to the sandwich shop that Roman liked, ordering the same sandwich that Roman ordered every time, as well as one for himself. Before he knew it, he was standing outside of the theatre, sandwiches in hand. He sat there, remembering what he wanted to say to Roman. Roman soon walked out, a nervous yet somewhat awe-struck look on his face.

Flirt Mode: Activated

“Hey, Hottie. Ready for sandwiches and banter?” Anxiety held out the sandwich, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“We need to talk.” Anxiety startled slightly. He knew that Roman wanted to talk to him about his identity, but he didn’t think that he’d be this direct.

“Sure, mind if we sit down? My back is killing me.” They sat down on the sidewalk, uncomfortable silence between them. Anxiety opened his mouth to break the tension. “So-”

“I know you’re Anxiety.” Roman’s voice was soft, softer than Anxiety ever remembered it being. He stared down at the concrete. “And I know that I’m not the only person that you’re flirting with. You’ve actually been flirting with my 2 boyfriends. I just thought you should know that I knew before we continued anything. I don’t want to trick you or lie to you.”

Anxiety felt a wave of guilt overcome him. He shouldn’t be leading them astray like this. But what could he say? Hey, I’m also the guy that’s been texting you for the past 7 months. Hope this doesn’t pressure you into liking me. Anxiety mentally shook his head. No, he couldn’t do that. But he also couldn’t fully lie to them. Maybe some half-lies would make it better?

“I already knew.” Roman’s eyes shot up.

“How? We just figured it out today!”

“Apparently you told my friend too. Unless he made up the exact same story when he asked for the VIP tickets?” There, Virgil can be Anxiety’s friend. Close enough to where it would make sense for Anxiety and Virgil to know things that they shouldn’t, while far enough to draw away suspicion.

Roman’s jaw dropped. “You know Virgil?”

Anxiety nodded, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Mmhm. He’s a good friend of mine. He sometimes goes on tour with us.”

Before Anxiety could even blink, he suddenly had a face full of Roman. “What’s he like?”

Anxiety stared, dumbfounded. “What?”

Roman huffed, the light never leaving his eyes. “Virgil. What’s he like? I’ve been talking to him for months, but we’ve never met face-to-face. So, what’s he like?”

It took a few moments for Anxiety to talk again. He wanted to know about Virgil? Not the literal rockstar in front of him? “Well, he’s sarcastic, for one (yep). He likes to spend money on people he cares about (you, Logan, Patton). He bounced around the foster system for a while, but I don’t know why (why didn’t anyone want me?). He has really bad anxiety (hence the persona), so he doesn’t go to any of my concerts (not as Virgil). He talks about you a lot (I can’t stop myself. I bring at least one of you up in every conversation I have with J and Re).”

“He does?” He looked so… happy? Hopeful? Unsettled? Virgil couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, he’s always blabbering about what you said that day or what he’s planning on getting you (not a lie). So, now that you know what I think of him, now it’s your time to spill. Who’s Virgil to you?”

Roman suddenly had a strange look on his face. Anxiety couldn’t name the emotion in his eyes. “Virgil is… different. He has such a cynical view of the world, yet he still makes lighthearted puns. He’s doesn’t want to meet us in person, yet he spends so much money on us. He can’t bake for shit, and he sends adorable apology chocolates when he thinks we’re upset. He loves Halloween and Disney. He listens when we need someone to talk to, and he rambles off random facts when we need a distraction. He comforts Patton when he’s sad. He makes Logan laugh after a tiring day, even if Lo plays it off as exasperation. He calms me down when I think that the world’s against me.” He sighed. “I wish he trusted us enough to let us meet him. I respect his wishes, but it’s hard, y’know? Trusting someone that you’ve never met.”

Anxiety felt another wave of guilt, this one even stronger. He opened his mouth before thinking. “I’m sure he’ll open up to you soon.”

“Really?!” Roman looked up, with so much… joy, and hope, and that same emotion that Anxiety couldn’t name. He recognized it somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where.

Anxiety smirked, internally screaming. “Of course. You think I’d lie about something like that? He just needs to build up his confidence first. Once he does, he’ll be dying to meet ya.” His smirk softened to a half-smile. “And from what I’ve seen so far from you, Angel, and Starlight, he won’t be disappointed.” Anxiety checked the time on his phone. “Well, your lunch ends in 2 minutes, and I’ve gotta go. See ya later, Hottie.” And with that, Anxiety stood up and walked away.

Virgil was surprised that his comment about opening up didn’t make him feel guilty. Instead, he felt… relieved? Hopeful? He couldn’t tell. But it felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. I do have to tell them eventually. Might as well promise it. Pressure myself into actually doing it.

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

Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

[braindeadskeletons]

Hey so I know I already got a matchup, but my sister wanted one, and she doesn’t have a tumblr, so she wanted to do one from my account. “Hi! Call me Ken! I’m a queer chick who dyes my hair a different color every, like, 3 days. (Not really, just every time it fades out.) I have severe anxiety and ADD (it runs in the family lol) and I desperately want to socialize but have no idea how. I’m touch starved, but also don’t really like to be touched? Does that make sense? (1/?)

“I’m a sucker for cute things and may or may not have a huge collection of stuffed animals. Microbiology is super interesting to me and I love going stargazing. Also, black holes are cool and no one can change my mind. (I blame my sib) I love sweet things, and almost always have some sort of candy on me (usually Smarties) and I may or may not like to drink maple syrup sometimes. Although I want to socialize, I can be a bit (a lot) shy and will hide behind whoever is there with me. (2/3)

“I will also stop talking after a point when I get overwhelmed. (Luckily I know ASL and taught a bit to my family) I’ll sometimes exaggerate these tendencies to get people to do what I want. (I once got all of the boys in my class to sacrifice themselves for me during dodgeball in 5th grade) I’m a little highly sensitive, so I rarely wear anything other than disguised pjs. I pick at my fingers and lips till I’m a bleeding mess, and have the worst eyesight ever. Thanks!!” Sorry for using 3 asks

Hi again, I'd love to do a matchup for Ken! Typically for each matchup I try and say something directly to the person who sent it in but uhhhh I don't really have much to say lmao. It's really late at the time where I'm writing this so I'm a little out of it hopefully that doesn't show in my writing. You sound like a lovely gal! When deciding who I wanted to pair with you there was only one skeleton who came to mind! So without further ado: 

I match you with Underswap Papyrus!

Okay okay so I know this is starting off super informal and it strays away from how I usually format these matchups but I feel like it's necessary to tell you that how you two meet is hilarious. An immediate situation popped up in my head okay hear me out: 

He spots you after a particularly rough night where he's at Muffet's and he's high as fuck right? My man is gone. He doesn't even know his own name. Papyrus spots you also in the restaurant and just loses his collective shit over your hair color. It goes a little like this:

----------

You, minding your business: 

Papyrus, spots you:

Papyrus: what the fuck

Papyrus: holy shit??

You:

Papyrus: do humans like

Papyrus: come in pink??

Papyrus: Is that a thing??

You, realizing that he's staring: 

Papyrus: gotta talk to pink human-

----------

And then he approached you and you walked him to your home since he was barely standing up on his own. He swears that this typically doesn't happen and apologizes a lot and offers to take you somewhere to make up for the trouble. Speed forward, and now you're both in a happy relationship!

Okay now let's actually get serious shall we? I just had to get that situation off my chest lmao.

At the very beginning of your relationship you guys have a conversation about a lot of boundaries the two of you need. You're in luck, because Papyrus can completely understand the feeling of being touch starved but also not wanting to be touched. It's kind of his thing if he's being honest, so the two of you are in this together. With severe anxiety Papyrus can relate in some ways. Though he can't completely understand what you're going through, since he only had mild anxiety, he can offer you some coping mechanisms he's picked up along the way. You both are huge beams of support for one another and you help each other with anxiety as much as possible. ADD is something he's really familiar with seeing as his brother has it. Want a fidget toy? He has plenty on hand that Sans wouldn't mind sharing or doesn't use anymore. Are you spacing out? He's endlessly patient, and would only nudge you a bit to bring you back to reality or he'd just let it go. Reminding you of things is no hassle. Whatever you need he'll do for you. 

Keep in mind that he won't stand for you hurting yourself in any way! If he catches you picking at your fingers or lips he'll gently take your hand in his own and gently ask you to stop. If you're going at your lips he'll try and make you stop through any means necessary. It may not mean anything to you but it does to him. Papyrus wouldn't want to watch you do that.

Going out somewhere isn't really going to be a common occurrence, but if you do want to go outside he's 100% going to go with you. If he sees you looking at any stores with stuffed animals he'll try and distract you with something else as he discreetly buys the plush you were looking at. You will never notice him doing it, it's always a surprise for later. 

Did I mention that he adores you and loves being with you when he does go out? Because he does. Thank fuck that you carry candy on you at all times. Besides everything else that he adores about you this has gotta be one of the highlights of why. At the smallest opportunity he'll be asking for some of your candy to do the dumbest things like:

----------

Papyrus: [smoking a smartie]

You: hhh-

You: how the hell do you manage to smoke a smartie??

Papyrus, no hesitation: improvise, adapt, overcome

You:

Papyrus: 

Papyrus: and practice?

----------

And the fact that you slurp syrup? God, same. He's had a few bottles of syrup himself when the honey runs out.

Papyrus will try and help you talk to others but if you hide behind him in public or stop talking he'll take the hint and teleport you both back home as soon as possible. If you'd like, he'll learn ASL for you. Not just a bit. All of it. Hell, he might just become even more fluent than you.With the whole exaggerating business, if Papyrus sees you doing it to others he'll find it hilarious if it's all in good fun. It won't be working on him though, no matter how hard you try. He'll keep his mouth shut if you aim it at others but not if it's at him. If you need him to play along with you he will though. It's all in good fun.

Dates are guaranteed to be inside the house, with the exception of stargazing. That's in the backyard. You can wear pjs if you'd like, hell Pap will probably wear only a gross week old t-shirt or a sweatshirt. Papyrus will listen to you ramble about microbiology for hours on end and never get tired of hearing your voice. If you voice your interest for black holes Pap may or may not lose his shit for a bit. He'll go on and on about black holes, stars, planets, for as long as you're willing to listen he's willing to talk about it. Listen to him for a bit won't you? He doesn't show this much excitement around others, but he really really loves you. So he trusts you to see him like this.

[bloomsjeon]

Love Playlist

pairing: park jimin x reader

genre: fluff, nerd! jimin, shy! jimin, high school au.

synopsis: one songs for one things you wanted to say.

words count: 2k

warning: mentions of anxiety.

a/n: I almost lost this story by an accident :(

© original pictures credits to rightful owner 

Jimin run as if there was no tomorrow. He stayed up too late last night competing against Taehyung in this game that become the newest addition of the two, in results he woke up late and he's going to miss the bus if he doesn't make it to the bus stop in approximately six more minutes.

Finally he manages to get to the bus stop and the driver almost close the door in his face if it's not with your help, "Wait! He's my friend."

The driver glares at him but opens the door for him anyways. In that moment Jimin stunned. A mere stranger willing to save him like that. Throwing a smile at him, you sit on the empty seat beside the window.

  "Quit it son, go sit somewhere!" The driver scold him from being astonished like that. He mutters a quick apology as he scan rows of possible seats but turns out that there's only an empty spot next to you.

Having no other choice he walks towards you."Is this seat empty?" He question. Looking up at him you quickly reply with a short yes. Jimin feel awkward for standing still in the middle of the bus like a statue.

"Yes by you, I mean." You crack him a smile again. And Jimin almost pass out from the heavy tension of embarrassment.

He didn't even realize he was holding his breath, "Ah.. thank you."

Seeing his flustered face you laughs nudging his shoulder in playful manner. "Why are you so tense? It's still early in the morning."

"I- I.." Jimin awkwardly stutter trying to find a good reasonable thing to say so it will at least make up his bad first impression.

"We're from the same school right?"  You guessed seeing from the same uniform the both of you wears.

"Yeah..." Then silence occurs. "Why I haven't seen you around? anyways I'm __."

"J-jimin." He mumbles. Nodding your head at him, you’re back to playing your phone again.

“God, I messed up. She must think that I'm snippy. I really need to say something.” Scolding himself, he think of 1001 things to say but his brain seems to completely shut down.

When he make up his mind and was about to say something, the bus already arrived at his school.

"I'll see you around, Jimin." You grin, then running off disappearing in the crowds. His mouth still gaping with no words coming out.

He rub his face and take a deep breath, "Relax Jimin. Don't overthink it. You'll probably already forget about her tomorrow."

What a huge lie. Jimin couldn't stop thinking about you all week. He used to be so ignorant against his surroundings. But now he can even notice your back from a distance.

Taehyung observe Jimin whom playing with his food. "What gotten you in a slump?"

"If you don't like the japchae, you can give it to me you know. I will gladly eat it for you."

"No thanks. I'm going to eat it." Eating a mouthful of japchae Jimin almost chokes when he see you stroll down the cafeteria with your friends. 

"Jimin. I get it, you don't want to give me your food. But please don't spit it out your food right on my face dude." Taehyung wiping his face with a scowl.

Ignoring Taehyung, Jimin can't take his eyes off of you. You look extremely stunning today, not that you don't look stunning yesterday but that hairpin really looks good on you.

"Are you not even sorry? Woah you're so mean no wonder I'm taller than you. Mean people tends to not grow you know." Taehyung still complaining with complete nonsense. Certain Jimin will scold him but when Jimin does the complete opposite Taehyung was ready to call an exorcist.

Jimin still gawking at you whom already munching on her food. Decide to tease Jimin more Taehyung take a bite from Jimin's food. When Jimin doesn't react Taehyung start to notice Jimin is blankly staring on something. He follows Jimin's gaze. "Ooh, Choi __!"

Jimin head snaps at Taehyung. "What did you say?"

"Choi __, from class next to ours. What? Do you like her?" Now Taehyung doesn't even try to hide that he's stealing a meat from Jimin's lunch tray.

"You know her?" Jimin ask avoiding Taehyung's questions. "Yeah we're in the same drama club. The one that you refused to join with me in the beginning of first year."

"Do you guys open for new requitement?"

And that's how he ends up in auditorium early in the morning of Saturday.

"Jimin, I didn't know you're interested in drama." Seokjin head of the drama club, pat him on the shoulder.

"I thought you're too busy with your academics stuffs." Recalling the incident when Seokjin offered him a position in the club a year ago.

"U-uh yeah, I start took an interest because Taehyung is so passionate about this club. And I make up my mind I wanted to try new things before this year ends so I guess why not." He rambles. He wince when he realized he was talking nonsense. Taehyung really rubs off his habit out of him.

Seokjin knit his eyebrows in confusion, "Well.. we're looking forward to have you here!"

"Oh look who it is! __! come here and meet our new member, Jimin."

"Hi!" You wave at him. Which he only reply with a nod.

He wanted to look cool in front of you but that probably only make him look like a cold hearted idiot so he squeak a high pitch, "I mean, hey!"

Seokjin who witness the whole thing pursuing his lips to muffle laughter while you only chuckles.

"I gotta go, I'm going to check up on others backstage." Seokjin dash out leaving the both of you alone.

"Welcome to the club!" You voice out. "Don't mind Seokjin, he always like that." 

Jimin nods knowingly, "Thank you."

When it's time to practice, Jimin's keep on messing up his lines. It was so embarrassing especially when you were watching him. Seokjin then decide to include Jimin in the crew team instead. Not that he mind since his purpose on joining the club is actually because of you. 

"So how long are you just going to stare at her like that?" Taehyung plops down beside Jimin.

"You know, you really got to make a move."

"It's not only you who had eyes on her, I overheard Jaehyun the other day." Taehyung glance at Jimin who's sulking.

"It's been what? four months already. There's no progress at all. All you've said to her was probably only hey, hi, hello and hello, hi, hey.”

"It's not that easy Tae, I've tried everything. But everytime I face her it's like my mind completely gone and I don't know what to do."

"I'm not good with words." Jimin slurs in such devastation tone.

"So what? Write her a letter, a poem or anything. You couldn't talk? Sing to her." Taehyung encourages word are getting to him until his anxiety builds up again.

"I don't think she will reciprocates my feelings, it will be useless."

"You never know unless you tried, the possibilities are endless my friend." He pats Jimin shoulder twice. "At least you've let out your feelings and stop bubbling it up inside."

"I-I think I have something in mind."

"Then let's do it, I'll help you."

Jimin preparations are complete, an hour long of Taehyung's Encouragement Class is enough.

He thinks he's ready to actually face you. Jimin couldn't stand still as he waits for your arrival.

"Jimin?" You call out as you walks in to the rooftop. "Hey, you said you wanted to talk to me?"

Okay, who is he kidding. He probably need another ten hours of Taehyung's Encouragement Class. His mouth gaping again just like a fish fresh out of water. 

After taking a deep breath he manage to addressed your name. He doesn't even realize that his hands become all sweaty, nervously he gulps then he press the play button on his phone.

'I really, really, really, really like you.

Do you want me, do you want me too?'

Carly Rae Jepsen's song plays out to represent his feelings.

Jimin eyes you with hope, biting his lip anxiously. Bleated, your eyes widen. Clearly shock by what is happening. When you don't reply immediately, Jimin already concludes your answer. He make up his mind.

"I'm sorry. Please forget this ever happened." Jimin runs away from you before you could say anything.

Jimin sat down behind the stage. He slumped down as he hug the calico cat props. He has been sighing for the past twenty minutes.

It doesn't go well as he thought it would, he regretted everything that he did. He cringed as he remembered what he has done. Why he choose that song in particular? It sounds too cheerful for his gloomy day. He was glad that at least you didn’t laugh at his face, that will be too painful for him to bear. If he could turn back the time he would. He prefers to keep his feelings away just so it means you won't look at him in a strange way like you did earlier.

"Jimin? Is that you? you haven't go home yet?" Seokjin's voice booming in the empty auditorium. "Can you help me cleaning up other props that the kids left on the stage. And sweep up the floor after the confetti Danbi just tried out. You could do that, right?"

"Yeah, sure." He answered. Getting up from his position to take a look at the stage. Jimin's eyebrows furrows when he notice that the stage is empty and clean.

Frowning Jimin turn his back to talk to Seokjin, but then the auditorium's speaker booming.

'I do love you, but it's all alright

I do love you, yes, I do now

I do love you, yes, I do now

I do love you'

He wince as the loud speaker stops, he look around to see you standing behind him on the other side of the stage. "I don't know any songs to describe my feelings other than Billie Stewart's."

Jimin stunned again, when he realized what just happened. He coughs, "You l-like me back?"

"Yes silly, I was about to tell you I feel the same way but you just ran away." You approach him.

"I don't know, I thought—" You stops him. "Whatever you thought, you're wrong. You did surprise me with your sudden confession. Not that it means I don't like you back."

Jimin let out a chuckles. He can not fight back a smile. You roll your eyes when Jimin doesn't make a move.

"Should I play another song?"

"Huh?" Jimin tilt his head. Grabbing your phone, you play another song that cause Jimin break into laughter.

'So kiss me kiss me kiss me

And tell me that I'll see you again

Cause I don't know if I can let you go'

"5 seconds of summer?" Jimin question.

"No, I'll give you 5 seconds to come here and kiss me you idiot." Jimin runs to you, he embrace you and kiss you breathlessly. You can still feel him smiling through the kiss.

You broke out the kiss when Taehyung yelled on top of his lungs from backstage, "You guys owe Seokjin and I three portions of cheese hamburgers!"

"No offense, but I don't really like hamburgers though." Seokjin quickly reply. "What? Why? How could you!?" Taehyung retorts. "I said no offense!"

They're bantering before come to an agreement. "Okay, you guys owe us food for the next three weeks!" He shouted again.

“Oh and Jimin?” 

“Yeah?”

“Your choice of songs sucks! Again, no offense!”

"Whatever." Jimin sighs, making you laugh. 

any kind of reposting or translations are strictly prohibited.

© 2019 bloomsjeon. All Rights Reserved.

[jewpacabruhs]

hi guys! so this post is gonna be a rambly mess but fuck it, here ya go. if u dont wanna read all of it, u dont have to; skip down to underneath the tl;dr in bold text for the important bits :)

(there’s a brief & non-graphic mention of a triggering topic in the next paragraph. please be sure to skip this next paragraph if the thought of suicide is going to upset you.)

alright. so i didn't share this originally, but i spent some time in a psychiatric unit this month. suicidality related. 1000% unrelated from anything online, i've just struggled with depression for a very long time & shit happens. i didn't intend to share that at all & i certainly don't want pity; i'm telling u guys bc my time in the unit was extremely eye-opening, and i have some insight to share. since i've gotten out, with the help of my newest anti-depressant (fourth time’s a charm lol), i'm seeing the world in a better light & i finally have the energy to and the interest in exploring what it has to offer, which frankly i've never had before.

with that has come the realization that i’ve come to do something very unhealthy, and i want to break out of it. and that’s how much i’ve come to rely on my fandom life. i don’t want to get too candid publicly, but mental illness took a lot from me, and i lost most of my life, my future, and my options in the last few years. next year will involve a lot of working on rebuilding things. but in the time that i let things fall to pieces around me & i absolutely couldn’t get out of bed, i had a phone and i had a laptop. so when i couldn’t get up and physically face the world, i built up a new world online.

and i don’t think that’s a completely uncommon experience. most people are able to better manage things, and evenly juggle real life with an internet life (like i did back in middle school), because most people can’t abandon their real lives entirely like i managed to; but i do think a lot of people nowadays rely on their fandom life and their fandom friends when their irl situation isn’t ideal. and that’s an excellent coping mechanism in theory, but i think it’s debilitating in the long run.

forgive me for sounding like an old person, but i’m a heavy nostalgist and a bit of an anarcho-primitivist in that i resent modern technology's influence on society - but that hasn't stopped me from letting it be a big part of my life out of accessibility. the internet kept me occupied during my low points, and i became dependent, but i've realized i don't wanna live like that anymore. i’m vaguely grateful that it usually kept me busy enough that i wasn’t thinking the bad thoughts as frequently, but more than anything, i’m resentful that my grasp on reality got lost somewhere along the way, and i let time get away from me, too. because, again, an internet life should be a fun hobby, but when it’s a lifestyle and it becomes an excuse to avoid dealing with our real lives, bc our real lives aren’t as rewarding or as exciting, then it’s unhealthy.

everything’s at our fingertips these days, but i deeply believe human interaction, fun, and fulfillment shouldn't be spoon-fed to us through a screen. it's easy access, sure, but at the end of the day, is it any way to live? compared with how much world there is to see, i’m no longer satisfied with the thought of sitting behind a screen for another five years. i used to be, when i had no hope and no drive, but not anymore. i’m not gonna let myself settle for staying busy with the thing that takes the least amount of work & movement. not only because i’m a whole ass adult who needs to start sorting my shit out for the long run, but also because i deserve better.

and it’s fucking hard! especially for those of us who are neurodivergent. i dropped out of school three fucking times due to crippling social anxiety and utter lack of ambition and energy. i lost all my friends through that (making friends post-school is hard af); the thought of having to go out and remake friends makes me wanna fucking cry. i have a hard enough time making friends online, i’ve even come to struggle with correspondence thru text & email. phone calls? outta the question. but that’s therapy shit, and i know i’ll get there. i just have to stop putting life off by staying in a comfort zone.

and it’s interesting; depression and anxiety really took everything from me, and while i was dwelling in my own misery, my adhd worsened and decided to make my entire brain revolve around my fixations, so i didn’t have to deal with my own life. can’t think about how much you wanna die and how much you can’t function in society if you’re busy thinking about a ship you like or a character you find interesting. so i latched onto the safety of that. aggressively. problem with that is that once you let your “happiness” (as much of it as you can feel in the midst of your depressive episode, anyway) revolve around an interest, that’s all you have. so you become dependent and reliant, and that’s never good, especially if you’re someone like me who feels pathetic & ridiculous when you realize it’s all you can bring yourself to care about. 

and i think that’s what i realized in the psych ward (where there’s legitimately nothing to do; i did soooo much more thinking than usual, and i already think too much haha); mental illness will try to fuck up your lifestyle, so you have to eradicate the things that’ll let that happen in the first place. for example, like i said, my adhd tries to counteract my depression by making me hyperfixate and/or hyperfocus on something else to protect me from bad personal thoughts, and that’s good in theory (doing something you enjoy when you feel bad, to distract urself, is the number one most basic coping skill you learn), but i can’t do it in moderation, i let it run my life, and that’s made me worse in the long run. so i have to force myself out of that completely and not let myself fixate on things that make me happy in the short term, but don’t ultimately further me as a person. having fixations helped me through some awful times, but now i need to force myself to grow up, you know?

and while tumblr and other social media is an excellent way to indulge those fixations, it’s an aggressive enabler, in more ways than one. what i mean by that... okay, so while i’m the type of person who self-destructs while unhealthy, i do occasionally lash out. and i know some people completely explode rather than implode when they’re not doing well. and that’s how you get discourse, i think. because when mental illness makes us care much more about our interests than we ought to, and someone has a differing opinion about that interest, the instinct is of course to attack, if you’re that kind of person. i don’t think i am, but depression and boredom go hand in hand, and i might be inclined to care more about discourse than i would if i were healthy, purely because it’s entertaining and something to do. 

that’s a long winded way of saying, while i stand wholeheartedly by my past positions, i do regret starting shit in the first place. i’m not the kind of person who genuinely cares about much and i have little to no sense of morality (im a chaotic neutral bastard), so the fact i was bored enough to start shit really goes against my character and says a lot about how bad i’ve been. so i apologize for all that. but, again, i think that's just what happens when something is truly your everything. and i think the chronic negativity of modern fandom is a result of how damn seriously we all take it, because we care so much and we’re so dependent. fandom’s supposed to be fun, but it’s just too damn stressful this way.

idk my point in sharing all this, but i do think it'd be cool if this kinda got yall thinking. even if you don't engage in discourse, if fandom is just one of your only consistent sources of happiness, that's not healthy either. we all gotta break out & exist more & louder & more positively. and unfortunately i think tumblr fandom (and maybe all modern fandom) is no longer a place that encourages positivity and health.

but for all my criticism, i do just wanna say how eternally grateful i am that i was fortunate enough to meet the people i call my best friends through tumblr. they're my family, truly, and all the bullshit in this fandom has been worth it simply because it brought them to me. i love them to death and i always will, even if interests change, even if we grow apart, even if we quit speaking entirely in the next few years, i love them with my whole heart in a way that transcends a simple fandom friendship and i'm so glad we bonded over sp in the first place. that’ll never change.

i will also always love south park itself. now that the cat's outta the bag about my hospital visit, i can brag about my most pathetic and obsessive accomplishment; the fact that i've never let circumstance stop me from watching a new south park as it airs, and i've now watched sp on 1) an airplane, and 2) in a psych ward. i win for most dedicated fan tbfh. dsjkf & i'll keep that tradition, and i'll still watch this stupid show til it ends! it'll always hold a special place in my heart, & kyman's still my most meaningful & long-term ship. i'll never stop loving it. 

tl;dr

so, to recap; for 2020 i'm making myself step back from fandom (not just sp fandom, but fandom in general) and quit letting my world revolve around my fixations so i can enjoy the outside world a little more, mental illness be damned, and the first step is gonna be quitting tumblr. this blog won't be deleted and i may occasionally post (maybe when next season airs) but you're absolutely free to unfollow bc this'll be a mostly inactive blog. i’m also unfollowing everyone, so mutuals, please don’t take that personally. 

i will, however, try to write more prolifically, bc fic writing is something i'm able to do in moderation & enjoy, and i hope to get back into it. so if you'd like, you can keep an eye out for any upcoming fanfic i may post - my ao3 is leere. i also have snapchat, instagram, & twitter my mutuals can ask for asap (bc ill be logging out for good by the afternoon of the 31st, which is tomorrow) - though i'm not very active on any of them. still, if you wanna have access to me, i’ll be there.

i want some connection to the fandom still, albeit without letting my life revolve around it, so i'll be starting a new open-to-the-public kyman discord server! the post with the invite for that will go up soon. nvm im too anxious  

thank you for reading, thank you for the good times (thnks fr th mmrs), and i hope everyone has a good 2020! 

[inkribbon796]

In Need of a Hero

Summary: Virgil is trying to be a good person, and the Host tries to help with his confidence.

Virgil hid behind Marvin, he was out on his first patrol and it was not going well. People had called the cops no less than five times.

By this point, Abe had joined them, just to stop people.

“I should just go,” Virgil decided, pulling his hood down in front of his face.

“Nah,” Marvin dismissed, then held up his hand and a bunch of rocks stopped short of hitting Virgil in the face. The anxious side yelped and huddled in on himself.

“Hey, ye dickbags!” Marvin shouted at a huddle of teenagers. “If I wanted help stonin’ the guy, I would’a asked!”

“Hey!” Abe stomped over, the teenagers bolting in different directions to avoid getting arrested. Abe was able to grab one of them after a bit of a chase.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Virgil began to panic, his fear powers starting to grab at the air around them. Marvin’s skin began to prickle, as if something was crawling underneath it. “This was a mistake. I’m so stupid, this was a mistake.”

Taking out a circular clay tablet, grabbing the front of Virgil’s coat and then crushing it in his other hand. The moved, a quick shift that the fact he had to bring someone else with him gave them both whiplash as they jumped into the base, specifically Iplier’s office.

Host was on Iplier’s table, the doctor performing a routine check-up on the seer’s eye sockets, both of them joking about something. At the two heroes’ sudden appearance, Iplier jumped.

The Host cursed in pain, but he didn’t start bleeding again.

“Ooh, sorry,” Marvin apologized as Iplier took his hands off the Host, the seer grumbling and whispering under his breath. Virgil was slowly moving to the ground where he could hug his knees to him and rock himself back and forth, trying to comfort himself. “Didn’t have time to send a warning.”

“Marvin is lucky that the Host does not hate him,” the Host grumbled.

“Doc, Virge here had a panic attack in the square, and I couldn’t just leave him there,” Marvin told him.

“I got him,” Iplier told Marvin, “thanks for bringing him over.”

Then the doctor began slowly approaching Virgil, leaving room for the Side to move back or escape in case he felt the need to. “Virgil? You’re safe.”

“I shouldn’t be out there, this is such a bad idea,” Anxiety began rocking a little. “What was I even thinking?”

“Just focus on me,” Iplier tried to calm him down. The doctor glanced back at the Host to see that the seer had turned his back to the panicking fledgeling hero, in case he looked at the Host’s empty eye sockets. “Hey, it’s just me and the Host here, no one else. Breathe in . . . breathe out.”

They sat like that for a while until Virgil slowly began to calm down. But the Side found he was exhausted, falling asleep and taking a nap on the floor for a bit. He wound up waking up with a pillow beneath his head and a hospital blanket over him.

“Anxiety should be proud of himself,” the Host spoke up, reminding Virgil that he’d been brought in while the doctor had been treating the blind man. “He is gaining more control over his powers. It took very little effort for the Host to redirect Anxiety’s powers off the doctor.”

“That’s a good thing?” Virgil asked, yawning.

“Yes,” the Host answered. “Anxiety is not fighting anyone but his own demons. A fight he was victorious in, if the Host would be so bold.”

“You always talk like that?” Anxiety stood up.

“Ever since the Host became the Host, he has been blind and an orator,” the Host answered. “It is a good change, in the Host’s mind. Or else he would not be friends with the good doctor.”

“Yeah?” Virgil picked up the pillow and the blanket. “That’s one way of thinking about it.”

“It is the only way the Host prefers to think of it,” the seer corrected. “Any other would be a waste of his time. He cannot change his current state of being, nor go back to who he once was.”

“Who was that?” Virgil asked, more curious than he probably should have been.

“Someone whom the good doctor would have hated if they had met in person,” the Host evaded, starting to play with his own hands.

“Where’d the Doc go?” Anxiety looked around, more than a bit uncomfortable with the evasion. Mostly because Anxiety understood not wanting to answer questions about yourself.

“To get a coffee,” the Host asked. “I have a pager if you would like him to get one for you too.”

Anxiety shook his head before remembering that the Host was blind and couldn’t see him doing that. “Uh, sorry, no, I’m good. Caffeine would probably be a bad idea.”

“Perhaps,” the Host agreed.

The door to the medical room was almost kicked open as Chase stepped through with Eric in his arms. The younger hero was thrashing and screaming, covering at his eyes.“Shite, Host, please tell me Doc’s here.”

“No, the doctor is getting a coffee, was he not in the lobby?” the Host asked, getting up so Chase could set Eric down.

“No,” Chase cursed under his breath, Eric suddenly holding onto him in a death grip. “One ‘a Anti’s glitchy claws got him in the eye, an’ I don’t think he can even see what’s around ‘im. Is Schneep in?”

“Negative, he is at the hospital,” the Host answered.

Chase loudly cursed. “I don’t have time ta find the Doc, Marv an’ Jackie need me out they’re hanging on the ropes.”

“Return to them,” the Host ordered. “Anxiety and the Host will hold down the fort, so to speak.”

Anxiety felt his stomach leap into his throat.

Chase however led out a breath of relief. “I owe you man. Be right back. Eric, I gotta go, you’re here with Host and Anxiety.”

After detangling Chase, the Host sent Virgil out to look for Dr. Iplier. After a long search Virgil found him not in the kitchen but in Marvin’s library, looking at a book. Iplier seemed surprised that Virgil was awake but after telling him what had happened.

Virgil calmly let himself out of the room and back to the main room. He just started watching random stuff on Youtube for a while, distracting himself as he tried no to worry about Eric, and was failing spectacularly. Eventually, Iplier led Eric in with bandages expertly wrapped over his eyes.

“Here we go, just sit down,” Dr. Iplier gently guided him onto the couch. “Virgil’s here with you.”

“Okay,” Eric’s voice was cracked and hoarse.

“Virge, I have to go and check on the Host, he started bleeding again, will you and Eric be okay here if I leave?” Iplier just looked at Virgil, as if he was the one in danger.

“Uh, yeah?” Virgil responded. With a cautious nod, the doctor hurried away with a quick goodbye.

Then the uncomfortable silence started.

“What are you watching?” Eric asked, reminding Virgil that the guy couldn’t see at the moment.

“Ancient Aliens,” Virgil answered. “I like laughing at the crazy stuff they talk about.”

“Silver hates that show, it’s hilarious watching him rant at it,” Eric smiled.

“So, what happened?” Virgil asked before he could stop himself.

“Uh, Anti burst out of a power box and I was in the wrong place, startled him, and I screamed,” Eric hunched in on himself and Virgil immediately felt bad for asking.

“Sorry I asked,” Virgil apologized.

“No, it’s fine,” Eric corrected nervously. “The Host said I should have my eyes back by tomorrow if I take care of them.”

“That’s lucky,” Virgil stared at Eric in shock.

“Yeah, I’m lucky he’s working for the heroes,” Eric began looking around the room, but in a slow drifting way. As if he thought Virgil was sitting somewhere else and then was getting disoriented along the way. “The Host said that King and Iplier found him after he got attacked by some villain. The guy even blinded him, I think.”

“Was it Dark?” Virgil asked, already imagining Dark and Host fighting.

“No,” Eric hunched in on himself. “But, uhm, he doesn’t talk about it a lot. I think he, uhm, would have mentioned it.”

“Right,” Virgil agreed. “Good thing they found him first then.”

“Yeah, J.J says Dark tries to get into the place once every couple of months,” Eric admitted, starting to ramble a bit. “That’s really scary since some of us live here. But I’m glad that King decided to work with us, or I don’t know what would have happened to Host.”

“King’s a good guy though, I don’t think he would have just left him on the street,” Virgil reminded nervously, a bad feeling tugging at the back of his mind.

“Yeah, but he wasn’t working for a normal street gang, he worked for Dark,” Eric was looking at the wall. “Dark doesn’t really hire people who are nice.”

“Please,” Virgil rolled his eyes. “His dad worked for Dark, what did King really do? Egg the houses of people who kicked dogs? Compared to the guys I used to work with, you’re all saints.”

“I don’t know,” Eric admitted. “I think King said he used to work as a clerk and had to clean up the books of someone who did some really shady stuff.”

Virgil’s blood started to run cold, suddenly reminded of his deal with Dark. “What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t like talking about it,” Eric admitted, his voice faltering a few times. “But he does the heroes’ taxes now, has for several years. He’s the one who started the inventory lists that all the storage rooms have. Silver said the place was a mess before he showed up.”

Virgil got lost somewhere while Eric was talking. The anxiety that was his namesake was back, rattling the bars of his mind and screaming for attention. His mind warring with itself. Yeah he’d made that deal with Dark, but he didn’t say yes to Patton and Remy because of the deal. He’d completely forgotten about it. But if the heroes found out they wouldn’t believe him, he was a mole in their group and they’d flush him out just as effectively. His mind already dredging up the thousands of different ways that he could get found out and hurt by them.

What was he supposed to do after they threw him out? Go crawling back to Deceit? Anti would find him again. Or would the heroes just have him arrested and thrown in jail?

There was a squeak of fear and in a guilt-stricken moment, Anxiety remembered that Eric was still in the room. Trying to recover from a panic attack.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Virgil apologized desperately, trying to mentally pry the tendrils of his fear powers off Eric, who had curled into a ball and started crying. The bandages over his eyes getting a bit damp.

“I can’t see,” Eric choked out. “I can’t see anything.”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” Virgil pleaded.

After a while Eric’s breathing seemed to calm back down, Eric lying on the couch, his back burrowed in a bit to the back of the couch. Eventually he fell back asleep, just in time for the Host to walk in.

“The Host asks if Eric is asleep or resting?” Host walked over to the fridge in the main area.

“He’s sleeping, I don’t know why you guys left him alone with me, I gave him another panic attack,” Virgil glared at him, once again surprised at how well the Host seemed to navigate through the base. “You got some weird powers that help you walk around without one of those canes?”

“Yes, the Host can see the future for brief snippets of time,” the Host admitted. “However prolonged use of the visions make the Host bleed from his eyes, so he often uses it to see for a second or two.”

“Yikes,” Virgil choked. “No wonder you have to go to Iplier all the time.”

“The Host thanks Anxiety for his help, it would have been far more difficult and damaging if the Host had been alone to help Eric.” The Host pulled what looked like a travel mug out of the fridge and walked back over.

“I don’t think I really did that much,” Virgil looked away.

“Anxiety will find that he makes more of a difference than he knows,” the Host began to walk away. “He should remember the Host can see the future.”

“Right, thanks,” Virgil smiled, trying to be optimistic. It wasn’t until the door had closed that doubt started to creep back in. That if the Host could see the future, that he probably knew about Dark, and probably knew from the moment he met Virgil.

But one look at a snoring Eric made Virgil remember that he could put the guy through nightmares on top of the guy having to be temporarily blinded and then forced through a panic. That he wasn’t a loner anymore. Virgil had actually chosen not to be one.

So he forced himself through Logan’s breathing exercise advice, or anything else he could think of. Eventually he fell asleep too, finally peaceful for the first time in hours.

[spongeekat]

We Don’t Want to Lose You (Superfamily + Spideypool One Shot)

Read on Ao3

Masterlist Here

Summary: Fanfic Request : "Spideypool (and/or superfamily) where no one realizes how fucked up peter is until someone sees cuts on his arms" AKA Peter has been secretly suffering for years, but is bad at opening up. And then it builds too far.

The first time Peter was caught trying to kill himself, he was 17 years old.

Peter was an adorable kid.

His large, brown eyes lit up whenever his superpowered family returned home from a mission, greeting each of the Avengers with a warm smile, rambling off questions about their adventures one by one. He took care to assess everyone’s wounds, helping Bruce to clean the minor ones. If anyone returned incapacitated, he stayed by their side to assure they wouldn’t wake up alone.

He did well in school despite rough patches in his childhood, and no longer living with his Aunt and Uncle, he took care to bring every A and school project to their house when he went to visit. He kept a careful schedule to assure he would call his Aunt at least once a week to update her on his life, and went out for lunch dates twice as often.

He kept his bedroom somewhat clean when he wasn’t tiring away at science projects, and worked with Tony in the lab while making sure his father didn’t starve himself sick. He helped Steve with the domestic side of the household, and kept the other Avengers entertained in their days off.

He stayed by his Aunt’s side through his Uncle’s death and the 6 month recovery, keeping her on her feet even when he was struggling to stay on his. And when he finally returned to the Stark Tower to live with his adoptive parents once more, he revealed the powers he’d kept hidden the past year. And then he worked with the Avengers, putting his life on the line to make sure others didn’t have to.

He was caring. He was sweet. He was happy.

...He was happy...

Wasn’t he?

Bruce had been the one to find Peter. He’d been passing by the bathroom on coincidence, heading to his lab well past midnight to fiddle with gear when he couldn't sleep. A retching sound from inside had immediately stopped him in his tracks, and he'd tumbled through the door a second later.

When the lights flickered to life, he certainly hadn't expected to find Peter collapsed on the floor, clutching onto his stomach as if it was being ripped out. Empty prescription bottles laid scattered around him, and from the bloody vomit, he could see Peter's body was rejecting the pills faster than they could kill him. An hour of non stop begging, and Bruce had promised not to go wake up his parents while he was treated in the tower. Peter had given his word not to attempt to hurt himself again, and Bruce told Steve and Tony their son had the flu. He’d kept close eyes over him the next year, and when Peter showed no other signs of another suicide attempt, he'd dropped the matter. It was a mistake he regretted immensely.

The signs that anything was off were few and far, to the point they weren't concerning. He’d been diagnosed with anxiety when Tony and Steve had first adopted him, though they took careful care to regulate medication and therapy visits until he had started to feel more level. When Gwen had first died he’d been depressed and inconsolable, and Tony and Steve were the first to encourage him to take time off from being a hero to recover. He was difficult to open up, and he appeared frustratingly optimistic at all times, making it near impossible to tell when he was actually struggling.

So it was quite jarring for the Avengers to find themselves staring at evidence Peter was slowly crumbling under their weight.

The gym was silent. Steve and Bucky had broken their pattern of hooks to freeze with their gloves still in the air, eyes trained on the slim thigh that was bridged between Peter’s hip and Natasha’s arm. Tony had been running on the treadmill, which was now quietly buzzing behind him. Bruce and Wanda had only come down to see the bout between Natasha and Peter, the former’s fingers wrapped tightly around his ankle that she held high. His shorts had ridden up when a flying kick had been stopped by her grip, and he was now crushed under the suffocating tension. Hard eyes stared back at him, and with a sharp tug on his leg, Peter had pulled his foot back into himself and pulled on the hems of his shorts to keep them down.

“What the hell are those?” Natasha repeated with an intimidating fierceness that could make anyone wince. The 20 year old in question stared back at her as if he was about to be hit by a speeding truck, and with the heroes now gaping at him, that was very much possible.

“Scars from a fight.” Peter returned automatically, his hand covering them self consciously beneath the polyester. “It’s nothing. Seriously, Nat. I just got hurt one time and they never healed properly.”

The lines were too straight and thin, filed messily in a patch down his otherwise unmarked thigh.

“Do you think we’re stupid?” Tony’s frown grew to match the others in the room, and while he sounded angry, it was clear worry was overtaking him even more so. “Did you do that? To yourself?”

“Maybe the three of us should discuss this somewhere private.” Steve’s gentle voice suggested, his hand clamping down on Tony’s shoulder to halt his descent on the wide-eyed Peter that looked like he’d been cornered.

“We can talk right here.” Tony challenged, sharp eyes never once leaving the quivering boy. “Have you been cutting yourself?”

“No. This isn’t something we need to talk about.” Peter snapped suddenly, withdrawing from the mat as he backed away towards the exit. “It’s none of your business. Can you guys just drop it?”

“We’re definitely not ignoring that, Peter.” Steve’s voice was harder this time, and even he looked like he wanted to reach out and stop him from leaving. “This isn’t something we can brush off. If there’s something wrong that you’re not telling us about that’s leading you to hurt yourself, you need to let us know. We can’t help unless you want us to.”

Peter’s chest began to constrict from the panic of the confrontation. He never wore shorts, maybe twice he’d donned cargo shorts for a family outing in the past 5 years, and today he had felt a weird bout of security that in the heat of the summer, no one would look twice at his legs. Even more so, he thought the scars had been blending more in his skin, yet apparently that wasn’t enough for superhero eyes not to catch them.

Pressure spread from his chest into his head. He grimaced from the tightness, taking another careful step back. “I said I didn’t need help. Nothing is wrong.” He insisted once more, the fullness of his mind growing heavier. His eyes widened, then his head turned rapidly to Wanda. “And stay out of my head. I didn’t ask for some Avenger’s therapy session, and I don’t want anyone digging around in my thoughts. Please just... I have to head up and do homework before patrol. I gotta go.”

Peter all but swung up the stairs as he scrambled to the glass door and drug it open, his feet moving lightning quick to carry him up into the tower.

There was a stunned silence left behind after Peter had cleared out, the other Avengers staring at the spot left behind as they weren’t entirely sure what to say to alleviate the situation. Bucky took his quiet leave, and Wanda wasn’t far behind, apologizing for scaring Peter off. Tony grabbed his bag to call it a night, though, as he turned around, he was met with the concerned expression of Bruce staring right back at him.

“There’s something I need to tell you. About Peter.” The scientist spoke carefully, keeping his tone level. “I’m sorry to have kept this from you for so long. I had promised I wouldn’t say anything, and he never gave me a reason to.”

“That’s alright.” Steve cut in before Tony could demand an answer from Bruce, pulling on his shirt sleeve as he approached. “You were respecting his privacy. But if we should be worried, it would be nice to know.”

“Yes..uh.” Bruce heaved a small sigh, his fingertips rubbing circles against the bridge of his nose to alleviate the stress. “Then I’ll tell you everything.”

----

Tony wasn’t angry at either Bruce or Peter for not telling him. Hurt, maybe, though that was mainly derived from the fact that his son had been at a low enough point he’d tried to take his own life and he’d never been the wiser. In fact, he wasn’t sure how much attention he had even given Peter that week he was supposedly sick. The fact that he may have blown off caring for him altogether in the way of work was a guilt he couldn’t quite bear.

He sat quietly on the couch beside Steve, a strong hand comfortingly caressing his thigh to keep him calm. Steve seemed just as stoic and lost in thought, neither really having reassuring words for each other at the moment. The prospect of coming dangerously close to losing the light that burned brightly in their life had been enough to scare them both into a mortified resolve.

“I never thought it’d be him.”

Steve looked up at the sound of Tony’s half-audible voice, his eyes softening. His fingers tightened to show he was there, though he could feel the way his husband tensed even under his grip. “Tony... “

“I’m not saying it’s his fault.” Tony sighed thickly, and his fingers danced over the lip of his whiskey glass. “Obviously, this sort of thing isn’t a decision he made one morning. But I still feel like it was my fault. For never getting him help.” He dropped his head back on the sofa, the unfamiliar ceiling staring back at him. He didn’t spend much time in the apartment as of late. The thought made his lips purse. “Did we send him to a therapist? We didn’t, did we? I think, after Gwen, that was on my list of things to do. But work was more important. So I forgot. Or probably just crossed it off because it wasn’t important. But you know what was? Work.”

“So we didn’t put in as much effort as we could have.” Steve’s hand went firm, and demandingly kept Tony’s attention on him. “And that was irresponsible. And I regret it as much as you do. But we also had no idea what he was going through. He doesn’t exactly talk to us, even when we push. And we just got lucky that he wasn’t able to.. That he was able to heal.” He heaved a heavy sigh, and took a decisive drink of Tony’s alcohol that would have no effect on him. As expected, it barely even burned. “But now that we know, we can take the steps to help him. Find ways to make him happy...and Tony, you know the one person he’d be willing to open up to.”

There was a long, heavy pause. And then a firm “no.”

“I don’t like it, either. I don’t trust him. And he’s not a great influence on Peter. But he made him happy.”

“He can’t love away depression.”

“But he can encourage him to get help. And even if he won’t talk to us, he’ll at least still have a support system he’s comfortable with.”

“You think a psychotic man my age is going to make him happier? He has more of a chance of dying with him.” Tony didn’t mind blunt, as much as he knew his words would only hurt Peter further if he were here. But Tony could never really stop himself, and he knew that was probably a reason why Peter was so depressed. “He left him in the first place.”

Steve sighed and picked himself up from the couch. He refused to fight over Peter’s rights to happiness as an adult. “You forced him to. If you really want to make things right, you need to stop interfering.”

It was jarring, but it was true, and it left an awkward guilt in Tony for doing what he felt made him a good parent. Though it was obvious now he didn’t deserve that title.

“I’ll have someone find him.” Tony finally caved, his hand clutching his pounding head to reign in the negative emotions.

“Thank you.” Steve smiled, and Tony sent a silent prayer they were taking the right steps to saving their son’s life.

---

“It’s not a therapist, Peter. Just keep walking.”

Peter threw an anxious and distrusting look back at Natasha, his intimidating Aunt barely an inch away to cover his exit. At least she had been upfront about keeping a hard watch over him these past couple of days. Everyone else acted like they were walking on broken glass around him, and he hated it. “You’re a professional liar, Nat.”

The widow rolled her eyes and gave a firm shove to his shoulder, forcing him to continue down the brightly lit hallway to one of the business rooms in the tower. The summon had been spontaneous, though it seemed the others all knew what was coming. It was pretty eerie.

They got to the doors with a minute to spare, and Natasha didn’t allow any time for him to stand and plan his escape before she was pushing open the doors. Inside, the bright light revealed his fathers standing in the doorway. Further back was Thor, and Bruce sat at the table. Next to him sat a red and black ghost that Peter hadn’t seen in over 2 years. His eyes instantly lit up when the man stood from the table, and they were on each other in a second.

“Petey-Pie, you look as good as I remember you.” Wade enthused as he reached out his arms to catch him. “Can’t believe you’re really here and--!” “...Ow, nice to see you too, sweetie.”

“You lying jerk.” Peter stood over the crumpled Wade with his fist clenched tightly, skin slightly reddened from where he’d planted his hello to Deadpool’s masked cheek. The adults jumped at the sudden violent outlash, but none made to interfere. “You disappear for 2 years without so much as a word, then suddenly come back and expect me to be happy about it?” He breathed, staring him down with intense eyes.

“I know! That was wrong. But I didn’t really wanna leave. I just had to ‘cause the Avengers thought I was a liability and all.” Wade shrugged, trying not to anger Peter any more, because he was damn strong and he had gotten punched in the face by a lot of angry strong people. “So you’re not happy to see me?”

“...Of course I am.” Peter sunk to his knees directly into Wade’s arm, his arms casting over his neck as he held him as tightly as his anger would allow him to. Wade was all too happy to oblige.

Natasha withdrew from the room shortly after, along with Bruce and Thor, when they had assured there was no violent intentions coming from Wade. Steve and Tony kept their overwatching positions, however, the distrust clear in their face and body language.

“Hey, Peter.” Tony finally spoke, moving to sit down at the meeting table behind them. “You know why he’s here. So let’s talk.” He cast an inviting hand to the chairs situated across from him, though Peter chose to ignore it and stand. Fine. He had a right to be upset at having his privacy invaded. But Tony wasn’t going to give up this time.

“He’s here because it was wrong to take him from you. You’re an adult, and as much as I hate that you can’t see he’s a bad influence--”

“Tony.”

Tony threw a look to Steve, relenting his sour mood for Peter’s sake. “You’re an adult, and I shouldn’t have made that kind of decision for you. I won’t stand in the way of you two anymore.”

“Can I start calling you Dad?”

“That’s pushing it, Wade.”

“Got it.”

“Anyways, Peter, there’s another reason why we brought him back.” Tony said as his expression grew a bit more serious, shifting forward in his seat. Peter felt the tension growing heavier in the room, knowing all eyes were trained on him at that point. He was tempted to take a step back, dip out before the conversation reached an uncomfortable level, but he was sure that was why Steve was still by the door in the first place. “You can’t keep whatever is hurting you to yourself. And we know you won’t talk to us. So we want you to have someone you won’t just lie to.”

“So you came back to spy on me?” Peter grimaced over at Wade, who instead shook his head back quickly.

“No, no, never.” Wade insisted as he reached out to grip Peter’s hand. “I’m not gonna tell anyone if you ever decide to open up to me. Not even if I’m tortured. Cross my heart, still won’t die.” He seemed amused by his own joke, but continued to ramble off. “Anyways, baby boy, I just don’t want to see you hurting all alone. I wanna be here for you, even when you don’t want me. I know that isn’t a great deal. I wouldn’t want me around either. But I want to at least try to make you happy.”

“I-It’s not that I’m exactly unhappy with my life and stuff. You guys are fine.” Peter frowned, hating himself for his decision not to cover up. It was a simple fact that could have easily avoided this discomfort and uncomfortable level of attention he wasn’t looking for. He appreciated them wanting to help, but he’d also dealt with heavy emotions alone for years, and he wasn’t about to ask for people to be a part of it. “And I’m glad, Wade, reallyglad to have you back here. But I’m not just sad I’m…”

Peter’s voice trailed off, though no one spoke. They were waiting for an explanation Peter didn’t know how to give.

“I just don’t feel… like I should… be here?” Peter said cautiously, turning his eyes down to the table. He didn’t want to face them, really not wanting to see their reactions to what he saw as dramatic thoughts. “Like, just after everything… I don’t deserve it.”

“Peter, you--”

“I know.” Peter sighed, cutting Steve off, as he closed his eyes and ran a stressed hand through his hair. It was tangled, not really having energy to brush it as of late. He hadn’t been sleeping particularly well, either. “I know that you’re going to tell me you guys love me, and that I’m Spider-Man and all, and I know. It’s not like it’s because of you guys, or anyone. It’s just… feelings I’ve had to deal with for a really long time. And I’ll work through them eventually. But I don’t want anyone forcing anything on me or… sending my ex-boyfriend to counsel or whatever.”

There was a pause for it all to sink in. But they understood, at least as well as they could.

“We’ll back off.” Tony relented, massaging the bridge of his nose. It was a hard promise to make, even harder to keep, but he knew pushing wouldn’t help. “You have to promise not to do anything stupid. Come to us, or that,” He said, jabbing a thumb at Wade. “If you’re having trouble.”

“We don’t want to lose you.” Steve added, sighing lightly.

“I… yeah. Sorry. I’ll try.” Peter mumbled with a hopeful look, though he knew it would take a while before he was ever ready to discuss the fucked up emotions and thoughts he suffered through.

Maybe, though, he’d be able to ignore it long enough everyone forgot about the entire thing.

-----

The second time Peter tried to kill himself, he was 22 years old.

-----

Peter’s plan had succeeded. Tony became busy at work. Steve was forced into multiple Avenger’s missions a week, and replacing the gap that Tony left behind became a difficult task he was completely engrossed in. His family returned exhausted most nights at best; injured and sullen more often. Wade had to disappear at the 5th month mark to meet with some big contact in France that he promised didn’t include ‘un-aliving’ anyone who went down easily. So Peter was left to his own devices for extensive amounts of times. And while he had been doing fine in the eyes of Wade and his family, inwardly, he’d been having a rather tough time.

The nightmare were what troubled him most at first. Repetitive images of Gwen’s lifeless body snapping haunted him most nights. Others, it was Wade screaming in pain that Peter couldn’t prevent. Sometimes it was the image of his Dad chugging whiskey like it was water. Sometimes it was Steve suppressing Bucky through his sleeping fits and the guilt stricken across his face. In the end, they left him a sweaty mess sitting alone on the ledge of the building, trying to calm himself off enough in the cool night air to go back to sleep. Until the day that nothing worked.

He hadn’t felt right all morning. He was irritable and hollow, and it led to him snapping at Bruce when he’d checked in if he was okay. Apparently word went around that Peter wasn’t in the best mood, because no one else came around to bother him the rest of the day. He’d gotten a total of 1 hour of sleep the past 2 nights, and at this point he was downright void of energy or proper thoughts. He’d called Wade, desperate to stave off the anxiety and depression, but he never answered. Steve was asleep. Tony was gone. So Peter had decided to sleep it off.

When he awoke, the tower was empty. His nightmare, this time, was about Eddy and Aunt May. Two people he’d dragged into his mess of mistakes that had suffered for it. The empty hole was festering in his chest, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. He felt numb. Every crater of his body was filled with buzzing negativity. He found himself stumbling up the wall to the one place he had learned to relax, the wind pulsing against his back the higher he climbed. Somewhere along his ascent he stopped. He wondered why he held on. He measured the agony he was feeling now and had been feeling for years to the painlessness of death. And somewhere along the line he had let go. Wind whistled in his ears. His body went into panic mode, and his own breathlessness made him black out. And he waited for the impact of the ground rushing up to meet him.

He woke up with a killer headache, a broken arm, a few broken ribs, and sutures tucked into his lower abdomen. Tony slept on a chair in the corner of the hospital room. Steve was gone. Wade sat directly on the end of his bed, staring at him through his mask so intensely that it almost scared the shit out of him. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was raspy and barely came. Wade shook his head, reaching out to grip his hand as he scooted closer to speak softly as to not wake Tony up.

“I love you.” Wade mumbled as he tugged his mask up to expose his lips. He pressed them gently to the back of Peter’s bruised hand, though the action felt heavy. “And I shoulda known you would do it. I think I did know, but I didn’t think you were doing that bad.”

“Wade-...”

“It’s okay, baby boy. Just listen.”

Peter went quiet, which was better, anyways. It hurt to breathe.

“I’m taking you away.”

“What?”

“Just you and me. And we’re gonna go vacation on an island, and watch girls dance in coconut bras, and fuck in the sand at night so I don’t get those burns on my ass.”

“L-Look, that sounds nice, but school and work--”

“And then you’re going to talk to me. Every day. I don’t care how long we have to stay. But I want to know every horrible thought haunting you. I want to know every part of you. You fought my demons, so I want to fight yours. And then we’re going to come back, and I’m going to help you out of bed every fucking morning until you’re strong enough to do it yourself. I don’t plan on losing you, sweetie, until I’ve found a way to die with you. And I plan on doing everything I can to keep you with me another hundred years.”

Peter was stunned. In disbelief. But he nodded nonetheless, letting Wade indulge in his fantasy. There was a high chance his parents would stop this plan in its tracks, but for now, Peter just wanted to relax into the thought that he might not feel this shitty forever. “Okay?”

“Yeah..that sounds like exactly what I need right now. Thanks.”

[yoong-seok]

Ring, Ring

Pairing: yoongi x reader, romantic or platonic, up to you! 

Genre: Fluff, comfort

Word Count:  1362

Warnings: This does bring up/deal with panic attacks and anxiety attacks. 

A/N:  Hi! I haven’t posted in a long time mainly bc I kept writing, editing, deleting, and so on. This took two months...and even now I’m not fully satisfied, but sometimes you just gotta let things GO. I’m thinking of having a lil mini-series? with each of the members. It’ll be called Ring, Ring! I hope you guys enjoy, and as always any critique is welcomed! (also im sorry if there are still some mistakes!) I want to also shout out to @versigny !!! I had asked her if I could use a line she had used in her fic bc I loved it so much and it tbh inspired this and she was sooooo nice and kind. Pls follow her (but u prob already do bc her writing is beautiful). I didn’t end up using it, but her kindness is just something I have to thank her for!

Within the expanse of your bed, you feel cold. As you lay curled up, head bowed down, legs brought up your stomach in a loose fetal position, your teeth chattering and your heart feeling lonely. Growing up, you had the comfort of your loved ones. From summer vacations with your cousins, piling on the beds, sharing blankets and jokes; to winter holidays, fitting too many onto a small loveseat as you opened any gifts and shared stories. You never once felt alone. The warmth and love had always washed over you, and you’ve grown so used to it.

But, now, you’re all alone. Far from your family with a new house in a new city, a new job, and a new life. It’s overwhelming. The emptiness of your house is suffocating. You take in each breath from your nose, the icy air stinging as it travels down to your lungs and back out again. Tomorrow, you were going to walk around and acquaint yourself with the new surroundings, but you don’t want to. You want to go back home. Back to warmth. Back to your family—their love and reassurance. Back to-

"Hello?" you hear. As you calm down, you notice you’re sitting against the bed frame, phone in hand. Briefly, you check the screen to see who’s on the other side of the phone.

"Yoongi," you try to breathe out, but the panic attack still hasn't left your lungs, so you barely choke out the 2 syllables.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" his voice is gruff, laden with concern. You don’t even know what time it is, but the sky absorbs the aura of lights from the city. "Hey, it's okay. You’re at your new place, right?  I'll be there in 5 minutes. Do you want me to stay on the line until I get there?" You shake your head and croak out no. "I'll see you soon."

You hang up and only then do you notice the time: 2 AM. He was sleeping, and you woke him up because you didn’t know how to be alone. How stupid. Your breathing became ragged. Hiccups falling between every few breaths. You wipe your tears harshly and quickly go to your call logs to call Yoongi back. Tell him he doesn't need to come over. You're sorry, you shouldn't have disturbed him, he has a full schedule tomorrow and he needs as much sleep as he can. Yet, as the ringing continues, you know that he’s already on his way.

You’ve known Yoongi for nearly half your life. The two of you had met in high school. As a lonely freshman, you walked around during lunch period, trying to find somewhere to eat. You decided to sit next to the music classroom. Finishing your sandwich, you heard someone playing the piano from inside the room. You peeked through the small window and saw the back of the blue suit from the school uniform. The soft notes of Fur Elise were playing before he stopped and began playing a piece that was unfamiliar to you. It sounded good. He was really good. The lunch bell rang and he turned, seeing you staring at him. You quickly threw your lunch in the trash and ran to class, feeling your face grow hot.

The next time you saw him was later that day when you were waiting for your mom to pick you up. You were staring at your phone and didn’t notice him walk next to you.

“You were outside the music room, right?” his low voice asked. You jumped slightly. Your ears grew warm as you recognized the face.

“Um...yeah. Sorry…” you mumbled. He said nothing for a moment, and you feared that he would make fun of you.

“Why were you sitting alone for lunch?” he asked. You looked up at him, but he kept his eyes forward.

“Oh, um, I’m a freshman. I don’t have friends, yet...” you answered him, slightly shocked that he was keeping a conversation with you. He paused again.

“Did you like it?” he asked in a softer tone. “Not Fur Elise...the other thing.”

“Oh yeah! I didn’t recognize it, but it was really good.”

“It was uh....” he sighed, “It was my own song. I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes widened.

“No way! It was so good. It sounded beautiful! I don’t know much about music, but it was really pretty.” He finally looked down at you and you found yourself mesmerized by his brown eyes, and beautiful pale skin. And he let out a small smile. You found yourself smiling back at him.

“My name is Yoongi.” He sticks his hand out for you to shake.

“I’m ____.”

The doorbell rings through your apartment. You get up from bed and open the door.

He’s in sweats and a stained t-shirt that is likely from the laundry basket. A light black jacket covers his frame. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his black hair was sticking out in all directions. He walks inside, arms reaching out to a hug. The jacket and t-shirt have residual cologne, a musky scent with a mix of something you couldn't place...kimchi?

"Hey, I'm sorry. I was already driving when you called and it was on vibrate, I didn't hear it or see it until I got here," he says, the gruffness from earlier still lingering. “Are you okay?” Why is he apologizing? You’re the one who called him in the middle of the night, woke him up, made him worried enough to drive to your apartment. He has nothing to apologize for, you did.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry for worrying you and waking you up, I bet you have work tomorrow,” you mumble into his shirt, the sound of your voice muffled.

“Psshh, no. I was already up,” he says. You give him a knowing look. He tries to keep a straight face but gives up after your continued glare. “Okay, so I was sleeping, but don’t be sorry. I’m glad you called me.” You groan lightly into his shirt and mumble out another apology. "Let's go to bed," his voice barely reaches your ears. You nod noticing your lack of energy. You lay down and he sits against the headboard. He's being so kind and patient, not forcing you to say anything or asking any questions. It reminds you of how nurturing he is. You don't deserve him.

"I just got so overwhelmed," your voice is soft, yet the cracks from the panic attack are still reminiscent. You stare at the ceiling. He hums. You turn and face him. Instinctively, you burrow into his chest.  Yoongi lightly wraps his arms around you before speaking,

"Do you want to talk about it?" You deeply breathe in his hearty scent again. Your eyes flutter shut. Home.

“I’m just so alone," you begin to ramble. "I always had friends or family with me, but now, I’m by myself and I don’t know anyone here, and I’m so scared to go out and have to experience everything all alone. It’s too much for me.”

Yoongi is silent.

"I know you don’t want to hear me say that you’re not alone…I hated it when everyone said it to me…” You realize he probably went through a similar experience when he first moved to Seoul so many years ago. “Everything feels so scary. And it seems like you’ll never fit in.

“But, you’ll make friends. You’ll meet people. You think you’ll feel lonely forever, but I promise it won’t.” He lifts your head. The deep coffee of his eyes stare into your soul. You feel vulnerable. You feel naked. "And you have me and the boys. You can always call us.” He smiles, looking into your eyes. Feeling the original comfort of warmth, love, and reassurance, you smile back.

You don't know how to respond or what to say. Yoongi brushes his lips against your hair and you grip onto him. The change wouldn't happen overnight. Not much will change over the next few weeks. But, you feel safe knowing that Yoongi is by your side for the unknown future.

[ficdirectory]

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 69

(To listen, click here) - 20:13

It’s quieter without the rest of the Avoiders here.

It’s Tuesday, the day after everybody went home, and Levi’s mom is serious about “making the lasagna happen.”  That means Levi has spent a good chunk of the last 24 hours freaking out.  Because what if his fear all those months ago - the one that drove him to wind up at Pearl’s door with bags packed - is really a thing?  What if he’s pissed off his own mom enough that she acts like Carla?  

If Pearl’s own mom can do what she did, no one’s mom is immune, right?  

He’s starting to spin, where his mind is telling him he’s got to be perfect.  They’ve got to meet at Mom’s.  Not here.  They’ve got to do what she wants.  And what if he says that, and Pearl can’t join, because of the stress?  Then, he’ll be alone.

This is something Pearl would wanna be here for.  But it’s also something she might contribute to, without meaning it.  And Levi has boundaries and choices and he gets to pick who to call for backup.

He texts Dominique:

Help - Mom freakout.  Need code to deactivate ASAP :( Are all moms like her?  Is my mom gonna do the thing if I don’t do what she wants?

Dominique texts back within five minutes:

At work but Code = Your mom loves you.  Actual for real loves you.  She wants to spend time w/ you and wants you & P to be comfortable.  PS if you need to call my dad, that’s cool.  If you need some dad energy.  His name’s Michael.  Both Mom and Dad say it’s cool if any Avoiders need them <3

Levi wouldn’t usually, but he needs to talk to somebody, and short of his own dad, he’s had no father figures in his life for the last two years.  There’s a number.  So, he calls it.

“Michael Williams,” a voice greets.  Sounds efficient, but light.  Happy.

“Yes, sir.  This is Levi West.  One of Dominique’s friends…” he hedges.

“Hey, Levi.  Call me Michael.  Dominique told us about you and your sis.  Pretty amazing.  How can I help?”

“This...it’s kinda embarrassing but I’m panicking...about something simple.  And I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can’t stop.”

“Ah, anxiety.” Michael breathes.  “We go way back.”

“Yeah?” Levi asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Michael confirms.  “So, we can just slow it down.  Take some deep breaths.”  He waits, but Levi is waiting too.  “See, to take a deep breath, you actually need to take in air.  Breathe, Levi.  You got this.”

It’s Michael’s calm directness that breaks through.  And Levi’s able to take one breath.  Then another.  Then, he listens, as Levi rambles about how worried he is.  He gives the broad strokes:  “You know, like when you been hurt by somebody and then you gotta spend time with somebody else like them.”

“When you say, ‘like them,’ what do you mean?” Michael asks.

“I mean, like, say you got hurt...by a giant cookie…  And now you gotta spend time with another one.”

“I see…” Michael offers in a tone that makes it clear that he doesn’t see at all.  He’s confused, but he is hanging in there, with Levi’s terrible analogy.  Which Levi appreciates.

“Or maybe this one’s a pan of lasagna…” Levi muses.  “You know what, I’m not really sure.  It’s my mom, sir.  I haven’t spent time with her in a while, and I’m nervous she’ll resent that.  And take it out on me.”

“I see,” Michael says, like he does see now.  “And your mother...has she ever hurt you before?”

“No.  Never,” Levi answers, certain.  “But, someone else’s mom…”

“Ah, I see.  So, what’s important to remember?” he says.  “Is that your mother?  Is not this other mother.  What’s she said about seeing you?”

“She’s excited to come see us.  Me and my sister.” Levi reviews.  “But what if she changed her mind and expects us to come to her, and my sister can’t come with me, and I’m alone there?”

“Breathe,” Michael cues and actually waits until Levi’s able to draw a breath.  “If your mother changed her plans, she’d have let you know.  You have the most up to date info right in your head.  She’s excited to come see you and your sister.”  He pauses.  “Your mother,” another pause, “is excited to come see you and your sister.  That’s the truth.  When you feel your mind starting to race?  Repeat what you know.”

“That my mother is excited to come see me and my sister,” Levi says, testing it out.

“You got it.  That’s what you know.  All the rest of it’s noise.  Block that out.  A second at a time.  Those seconds will add up.  Trust,” Michael reassures.

“I’m so sorry for calling you like this,” Levi apologizes.  “Some first impression.”

“You wanna know my first impression of you?” Michael asks.  “Someone who means a great deal to Dominique.  Someone who knows his limits.  Someone who knows he can reach out if he needs help.  To bring in adults when things get too real.  You made a solid first impression.  You really did.”

“Thank you, sir.” Levi clears his throat.  Blinking back tears.  “You, um, you remind me of my dad...who’s...not here anymore.  Who I miss.  Very much.”

“Well, if you ever need some Dadness, you call me.” Michael says, his tone gentling even more.

“You sure Dominique won’t mind?” Levi asks.

“Nah, she knows the truth, too.  There’s always enough of Dad to go around,” Michael reassures.

“Thank you.” Levi repeats.

“Take it easy,” Michael urges, and hangs up.

It’s with Michael’s words in his head that Levi heads upstairs, scoping for Pearl.  He finds her on the couch, knitting.

Levi checks out the pantry.  Then the fridge and freezer.  “Pearl, the only ingredients we have on hand for lasagna are frozen corn and salt,” he points out.

“Corn?” she glances up, confused and then shakes her head.  “I keep forgetting it’s not traditional, with noodles and sauce and tons of cheeses.”

“No, it’s definitely not that,” he wrinkles his nose.  “And I definitely don’t wanna go to SuperOne on my day off.  Or, like, ever.”

“So,” Pearl says, thinking out loud.  “What do you think...about changing it up a bit?  Going to the County Market in town?”

“Farther away,” Levi points out.

“Yeah, but I mean, if it helps put our minds at ease?  Why not try it?” Pearl offers.

“Is your mom a County Market fan?” Levi asks, careful.

“Oh, no, SuperOne all the way,” Pearl reassures.  “She only goes to County Market if she absolutely must.  And then?  She always sent me in for her.”

“So…?”

“So, she wouldn’t step foot in there,” Pearl insists, confident.

“Okay, sounds good,” Levi nods.

They drive separately, because it still makes Pearl feel more in control than driving with Levi in the car, too.  He gets that.  In his own way.  Hadn’t he just avoided talking to Pearl about his Mom-panic because of all the ways she might remind him of Carla?

In the store, Pearl gets a cart and settles Cleo in the front, who smiles.  She loves all of the smells.

Levi lists ingredients from memory and Pearl finds them quickly, more familiar with the store than he is.  They make good time, and check out wherever they want, not worrying about avoiding a certain lane.  Or a certain person.

When they get home later, Levi exhales, and offers to put everything away.

“Thanks,” he says, hefting a couple bags in his arms.  “I think that worked.”

--

Pearl doesn’t want to let Levi down, but she is pretty sure, this hasn’t worked.  For one thing?  She has nothing to wear.  For another, the cabin is cluttered and nothing is right about it and also?  The kitchen?  Is tiny.  Only room for one person.  Two if one is small, like Francesca.

She’s made a third pass over all her kitchen surfaces when Levi comes to the kitchen doorway and just looks.  “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”  Pearl asks.

“It looks like Cleo’s trying to get your attention,” he gestures.  Levi’s right of course.  Cleo has been trying to get Pearl’s attention for a while.  Front paws on her legs.

Taking the hint, Pearl abandons the cleaning and scoops up the dog, sitting in the middle of the floor.  Levi joins her, sitting so they can see each other eye to eye.

“I’m nervous, too,” he admits, softly.

“I have nothing to wear.  My hair’s not right.  The cabin’s...small.  Okay, it’s small, Levi.  The kitchen will fit one person cooking comfortably at a time, not three of us.  God, what was I thinking?” she vents, Cleo nipping at her shaking hands.

“Um…  Clothes are good,” Levi offers.

“It’s not funny, Levi.  My mother once dragged me into her house and made me change my top before she would agree to drive me to her stylist at her salon.  Who did not know the first thing about my hair, by the way.  It was an awful trip.”

“My mom doesn’t care about clothes.  She cares that they’re clean, and she’d prefer that they don’t have holes, but other than that?  She doesn’t care.  She’s gonna love your hair.  I know, because she was always talking about how with boys’ hair you can’t ‘do it up cute.’”  

“Well, my hair is definitely not cute…” Pearl remarks sardonically.

“And the cabin’s perfect.  Okay?  It’s homey,” Levi counters, predicting Pearl’s next comment.

“Are you sure you didn’t mean homely?” Pearl insists.

“Will you stop, please?” Levi asks.  “I get that you’re wound up, but could you at least try to listen to me before you tell me what I say doesn’t matter to you?” he asks.

That stops Pearl in her tracks.  “I’m sorry.  I’m anxious.  I ramble.  What you say matters.  Maybe…” she breathes, experimentally slowly.  “Maybe we should try to slow down…” she suggests.

Levi nods.  

After Pearl has breathed for a while, he speaks up:  “So, I spoke to Dominique’s dad this morning…”

“Really?” Pearl asks.  “You spoke to Dominique’s dad?” She’s trying this thing where she repeats what Levi’s said, asks questions, instead of countering it out of panic.  “How was that?”

“He had some good advice…” Levi shrugs.  “If you want it.”

“Please,” Pearl says.

“He said to review what we both know about my mom.  So…” Levi takes out his phone, so Pearl can see the screen where Mom’s most recent text is visible:

Excited 2 c u & Pearl with a row of hearts.

“That’s what we know?” Pearl asks.  “She’s excited to see us?”

“That is what we know,” Levi breathes.  “So, Michael, that’s Dominique’s dad, he said whenever we start to spin, to like, repeat what we know about my mom.  About dinner tonight.”

“She’s excited to see us,” Pearl fills in.

“That’s it,” Levi nods.  

He’s getting up from the floor when Pearl reaches out for his hand.  Pearl doesn’t miss the wariness that seeps into his gaze or how he takes a step back almost without realizing.

Pearl drops her hand.  Stays seated.

“I was just...going to say thank you.  I know we both have...things…and I know my trauma and stuff isn’t great to be around.  And it’s not your job?  But thank you, for helping me navigate that.”  Pearl clarifies, soft.

Levi blinks.  “Oh.”  His phone chimes with a message.  “Mom’s on the way, but she wants to know if you have pans or if she should bring them?” he asks, squinting.

“We do have pans in our possession,” Pearl nods.  “I’ve got to get up now.  Hardwood floors are not comfortable when you’re my age,” Pearl groans.

“You keep acting like you’re ancient,” Levi quips laughing gently.  He offers her a hand.  “But in 20 years, I’ll be your age.  It ain’t that old…”

“Oh, get back to me when you’re pushing 38, little bro, and we’ll see how you feel about it then…”  She grunts, having taken Levi’s hand and gotten to her feet.  “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

“She’s excited to see us and she’s not bringing pans.” Levi calls, as Pearl shuts herself in the bathroom.  The door is closed, but she can still make out his words from behind the door.  “And nobody’s gonna make you change.”

“Thank you, Levi.  Love you.  She’s excited to see us, and she’s not bringing pans,” Pearl repeats, loud enough for him to make out her every word.

They keep saying it to each other.

Strangely, it doesn’t get old.

--

Levi’s waiting by the window, watching for his mom’s car to pull in the drive outside.  The minute he sees it, he’s off the couch, calling, “She’s here.  I’m gonna go meet her.”

He doesn’t care how it looks.  Him, taking off out of the cabin at top speed, to help his mom carry in whatever she did bring.  With all his nerves about seeing her (and seeing her without Dad) Levi hadn’t quite expected just how badly he did need to see his mom.

Levi’s at her car before she even turns it off.

“Levi!” she calls.  “How are you, baby?”  she asks, and he very nearly reaches through the window to hug her, but she holds him off long enough to open the door.

Then, he waits for her to stand.  And grabs on.  “I missed you.”

“Oh, you’ve gotten so tall.  And you look happy.  Did you and your friends have a good time?”

“Yeah, we’ll tell you all about it.  Come in,” he invites, offering an arm.  “Oh.  Should I grab anything?” he asks, sending a smirk her way.

“Don’t act like you don’t know I got peach cobbler for dessert.  It’s in the case on the passenger seat.” Mom smiles back at him.

They get inside the house and Levi drops off the peach cobbler at the table.

“Pearl, this is my mother, Nia Major-West.  Mom, this is Pearl.” Levi introduces.  The smile on his face big enough to break it.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. West,” Pearl greets, awkwardly, shuffling Cleo’s leash from hand to hand, and finally managing a handshake.

Mom’s mouth drops open as she takes in Pearl.  “Oh, please.  Call me Nia.  You look just like Paris.  Both you kids do…” Tears spring to her eyes.  “He’d be so happy about this.  You know that, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pearl answers.  “So, I’ve heard, from Levi.”

“So, are you better at the stove, or at assembling, Pearl?” Mom asks.

“Oh, I’m good, wherever you put me,” Pearl agrees.

“She’s really good at organizing,” Levi offers.

“Would you mind helping out with assembly, then?” Mom asks.  “I’m terrible at it.  Not patient.  And if Levi does it, he eats all my cheese before it gets on the lasagna.”

“That was one time,” Levi objects, laughing.  “I was like, 2.  Let it go.”

“What happened?” Pearl asks as Mom gets busy preheating the skillet.

“So, family legend says that once upon a time--” Levi begins.

“--The first time I ever made this lasagna--” Mom interjects.

“Yes, the first time Mom ever made this lasagna.  She was putting it together.  As you do.” Levi nods.

“Right.  As you do,” Pearl confirms.

“And she goes, ‘Here, baby.  Hold this for Mommy.’  And she hands me an open bag of cheese.  So, of course, she’s cooking and I’m thinking I’m the luckiest toddler in the world, probably, just stuffing my face.”

“Paris is taking pictures…” Mom adds, laughing.

Levi joins her, laughing, too.  “And you had no idea--” he gasps.

“None,” Mom’s breathless.  “Just turn  around and I’m like, ‘Baby, where’s Mommy’s cheese at?’  And what’d you say?”

“I mean, I told her the truth.  It was all gone…” Levi manages, still laughing.

“So what did you put on it?” Pearl asks.  “You can’t have your lasagna without the proper cheese…”

“Oh, we had cheese.  We had all kinds of cheese.  So we improvised.  Tasted fine.” Mom says, same as she always does.

“So when Rachael Ray said use whatever you have on hand...she meant that…” Pearl glances at Levi.  “So what did we go to the store for?”

“Because,” he teases gently.  “In order to use what you have on hand, we needed to have stuff on hand.”  

“Ah,” Pearl slaps her forehead.

“Just like your Daddy.  Needing his recipes.  Going to the store to stock up on all y’all’s ingredients.” Mom says, happily.

Though it is kinda tight in the kitchen, Levi kinda loves it.  Being close like this.  It feels like it used to feel.  Not empty.  With an extra person in their space it feels even more full.  Not like anyone’s missing at all.

The lasagna still tastes great, just how Levi remembers.  The peach cobbler’s amazing, and Levi and Pearl share about getting to hang out with Jesus, and Mariana, Dominique and Francesca.

Pearl texts and asks if Jesus would mind if they showed Levi’s mom the picture of all of them together.  Jesus says she can, and thanks her for asking.

Mom puts on her glasses and looks at the picture.  While Levi points out everybody.

“Now, whose baby is this?” she asks, pointing to Francesca.

“That’s Francesca,” Pearl smiles.  “She’s their sister.  Much younger, obviously, like Levi is to me.”

“She’s lovely.  And these two are the twins,” she says, noting Jesus and Mariana.  “And this one here is your friend who you spoke to her dad on the phone this morning,” Mom fills in, pointing out Dominique.

Levi smiles.  “Yeah, you got ‘em all.”

“Speaking of pictures,” Mom digs in her purse, pushing her dessert plate and coffee cup further on the table.  She finally takes out what she’s been looking for and hands them to Pearl.

Levi scoots in closer.  Hears Pearl gasp.  

He can see what she does.   Four pictures:  one of Dad holding newborn baby Pearl, smiling and looking younger than Levi can ever remember him being.  

“That’s the day you were born.  Said he couldn’t stop holding you.  Couldn’t stop staring at his beautiful girl.  His Pearl Evangeline.”

Pearl cringes.  “My middle name’s so awkward.”

“Dad chose it,” Levi fills in.  “He liked Biblical names.  But I guess your mom had already chosen your first name.  So he convinced her to let him give you your middle name.  He told that story all the time.”

Pearl’s mouth drops open.  “I didn’t know.  I feel so terrible for making cracks about it all these years.”

“Now this one,” Mom points to the next photo on what looks like her first birthday.  “Cabbage Patch babies were all the rage, and he searched high and low for one.  For hours, probably.”

“But days or weeks, if you asked Dad--” Levi interjects.  

“Right, so he found you, little Archibald Frances,” she points to the bald baby doll in a hat.

“I still have that doll.  He got it for me?” Pearl asks, incredulous.

“He did, yes,” Mom nods.

“I never knew that,” Pearl manages.

A third picture shows toddler-Pearl, holding The Cat in the Hat right side up.  Dad sitting with her in the rocking chair.

“Now, you were reading to him there.  Not vice versa.” Mom points out.  “Paris wanted me to be sure if I ever got to show you these, to tell you.  Two years old, and reading.  He couldn’t believe it.”

Levi watches as Pearl slowly flips to the last picture.  Pearl with her hair in braids.  Kissing Dad on the cheek.  “You started school early, he said,” Mom explains.  “You just turned four a few months before, but he got you into kindergarten.  He was so proud.  Your first day…”

“That’s it?” Pearl asks.  “I mean...I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.  These are amazing.  I just...I wish there were more…”

“We all do,” Mom nods.  “But we’ve never been sure how many pictures you had with him, and these were all he had with him, when…”

“I understand,” Pearl nods.  “Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for letting me come out here and see y’all.  I’ve missed my Levi to bits.  So quiet without you and Dad around.”

“I know,” he says, looking down, a little regretful.

“But you’re happy.  I can see that,” Mom says, looking satisfied to know this.  Looking like she’s proud.  “And as long as you two have each other, I know I can worry a little less.”

“You should come again, for dinner,” Levi blurts.

“Yes.  You should.  We could make this a thing.  Family dinner?” Pearl tries.  “I know we’re not exactly family, but…”

“Oh yes, we are.  Levi, tell Pearl.  We are exactly family,” Mom says, putting an arm around them both.

“We’re exactly family,” Levi tells Pearl softly and Pearl laughs a little.

Holding the pictures between them like this, it’s almost like Dad’s in on the hug, too.

In fact, Levi can pretty much guarantee it.