#it seriously helped with picking me up from a slump and my mental health is so much better

[wp100]

who would've thought that the person who introduced me to the programme ive been at for the past 5 months (that's "ended" now bc i got a job, but hey im a success story now) is now my friend. she was a total stranger when i walked into the seminar. i legit hesitated for 2 weeks about the whole thing too. i do not regret joining it one bit. i also do not regret hesitating, it's nice to have a think about something before you try it (unless it has a time limit, this didn't)

it changed my life.

if there's an opportunity right in front of you, just go for it. if it doesn't work out, you can drop out. literally this is a life lesson. do NOT be afraid to get out of your comfort zone and try new things. it'll work out in the end. i promise. life's too short to wallow in your misery.

the hardest thing to do is to Start. once you overcome that step, everything will eventually fall into place.

[taschamonnii]

Imagine This - Hold Onto Me

Anonymous asked:

Would you write a Nell x reader (from Haunting of Hill House) where she has sleep paralysis again and the reader wakes up and comforts her? If you don't want to write for her that's totally fine <3

You x Nell (Eleanor Crain - Victoria Pedretti) 

Hurt/Comfort 

Summary: You are married to Nell and there are no ghosts (it is actually mental illness) and you don’t die and neither does she because I need to have one version where Victoria Pedretti’s character is Queer and LIVES!

TW: Sleep Paralysis, depression, anxiety, bipolar depression.

Here is the title song: Hold Onto Me by Mayday Parade

Read on Ao3

AN: I love Nell so much thank you for the request! <3 Victoria Pedretti stole my whole heart with that character! I need one of her characters to fucking live and survive a series seriously Netflix just keeps making me watch her die and I am not okay.

 Word Count: 1,524

Imagine This:

It has been a long stressful week of moving across the country to California with your wife Eleanor. Change has never been easy for Eleanor or yourself. The changes to your routines and life, in general, have caused major problems. You are both struggling with your mental health. 

You both have worked really hard to get an almost flawless system down of different routines that help both of your mental health. You were diagnosed with bipolar depression when you were 6 years old. You grew up learning all about psychology and that passion never died as you went to college and earned your doctorates in psychology. You had never once been more grateful for your mental illness than the day you met Eleanor at a sleep study. Where you learned that she struggled with anxiety, depression, and sleep paralysis. Now here you both are happily married and starting fresh in California. 

This week of unpacking and settling into the new apartment in California had been exhausting. Eleanor has had more episodes of sleep paralysis than you have ever experienced with her before. You both have barely slept at all this week. 

You are sitting at the small dining room table with case study paperwork spread all around you. Your eyes are heavy and keep falling closed as you lean on your hands. You keep reading the same line over and over, your brain is not awake and you honestly can’t comprehend the words. You are not sure when but your body gives in to the exhaustion and you wake up to the bright blue eyes of your wife. 

“Hi, baby. I brought food.”

You lift your head and smile softly at her. “Sorry, I must have dozed off. Thanks for picking up dinner, Nell.”

She smiled and brushed your hair out of your face before leaning down and capturing your lips in a soft kiss. “I’m sorry, y/n. It’s my fault you’re so tired. I am thinking I will just take a sleeping pill tonight.”

You shook your head as she stood back up straight. You grabbed her hand and pulled her down into your lap. “Nell, it’s not your fault and you are not doing that you know it won’t help.”

She slumped in your lap and wrapped her arms around your neck. “Then you should take one so I don’t wake you up and at least one of us can get some sleep.”

You took her chin into your hands and locked your gaze with hers. “Baby, I am not doing that.”

“Why? We shouldn't both have to lose sleep because of my brain.”

You kissed her bare shoulder. “Nell, you know why. Come on, why don’t we eat before the food gets cold and just not worry about sleep until we go to sleep?”

She gripped the back of your neck and pulled you in for another sweet kiss. “You are so stubborn.”

“Yes, and you knew this when you agreed to marry me.”

She rolled her eyes and got up from your lap. “Come on stubborn, let's eat then.”

You got up and followed her into the kitchen. You moved seamlessly together in the kitchen splitting the food the way you always do so you each get some of everything ordered. You threw on the Mary Tyler Moore Show and got comfortable on the couch to eat dinner. It kind of felt normal finally. With the apartment almost completely unpacked and set up, it was finally feeling like your home and you hoped it would help you both mentally to feel more stable and allow Nell to sleep peacefully once again. 

You both ate and enjoyed the comforting sitcom cuddling up together on the couch after finishing your meal. You ran your hands through Nell’s long brown hair as she laid mostly on top of you. Her hands traced patterns on your skin under your shirt. Before you both knew it you both fell into a comfy sleep. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. As per usual you awoke to quiet sobs. Nell was still laying on you and you could feel her tears on your chest.

“Nell, hey, it’s okay I am here, remember your breathing breath with me deep inhale and slow exhale.”

You demonstrated the breathing a few times until you felt her match you. You grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Can you squeeze my hand?”

You felt her trying her hand shook and her sobs got louder. You could tell she was frustrated. “Hey, it’s okay, focus on squeezing your fingers then your entire hand.”

She took a gasping breath as she managed to squeeze your hand. Her body trembled on top of you as she slowly moved her head up to look at you. You helped her and cleared the tears from her face. “I am going to sit up okay?”

She nodded and you sat up, keeping her in your arms and maneuvering so she was in your lap. Her body was still stiff so you helped her wrap her arms around the back of your neck. “Alright, let’s go to bed.”

You stood and held her bridal style and carried her to your room. You gently sat on the bed and just held her for a little while as she slowly regained more control of her body and squeezed you in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

“Shh, no apologies here. Do you want to talk about it? Did you see anything this time?” 

Nell squeezed you tighter “yeah I saw the monster from that movie we watched last Halloween again.”

“Him again? That it, no more scary movies for you ever!”

“But you love scary movies.”

“Yes, but not as much as I love you.”

You gave her a dorky smile and pecked her lips before she could say anything else. “Do you want to try and sleep now?”

She nodded and detangled herself from you and crawled up the bed you followed suit and quickly got comfortable together cuddled close. Nell had one leg over one of yours and her head tucked into the crook of your neck. She scattered soft kisses there and took a deep breath before fully relaxing into the bed. You felt your tired eyes give into the sleep almost instantly. 

When you awoke yet again to the familiar quiet sobs of your wife you were sure it had only been an hour tops since you closed your eyes but you forced your tired body up. You noticed that she had moved at some point during sleep to lay flat on her back and so you hovered over her slightly. You caressed her face “Hi beautiful, remember, deep breath in and slow release.” 

You coached her to breathe normally and squeezed her hand until she squeezed back. The second she was able to she sat up leaning on you for support and wrapped her arm around your neck. Her lips crashed onto yours with need. You understood instantly and wrapped her up in your arms pulling her into your lap and as close as possible. She needs you close and you know close is never close enough. You kiss her back matching her passion until you both need more air than the kiss allows and you rest your forehead against hers. She takes a deep breath and moves on your lap to straddle you. Her thighs are tightly surrounding you and her arms have you pressed into her like she is terrified to not be touching every inch of you. “Baby it’s okay I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

You kiss her neck trying to get her to loosen her hold on you just a little. She squeezes you tighter. “You can’t leave me please never leave me, y/n.”

You sigh, “Nell, I swear to you I am not going anywhere.”

“No. You can’t ever die, y/n.”

You force your way away from her slightly just so you can look into her grey-blue eyes. “You dreamed I died again. Nell, I swear I will try my absolute hardest to not die before you, and the second your gone I am right behind you. You know this. I promised you forever and I meant it.”

She loosed her death grip on you and leaned in to capture your lips once again but softer than before letting you know you said the right thing to ease her worry. You relaxed into the kiss happy that you could ease her mind and give her comfort. 

You both pulled away and you glanced at the alarm clock. “Hey look at that, it's morning and you only had the two episodes tonight.”

“I’d prefer none but two, is definitely progress from the six I was having.”

You nod and kiss her cheeks. “See I told you we just needed to settle in and it would get better once our routines are in order I am sure we can get it back to rarely ever having an episode.”

She smiled at your always positive and supportive words. “I love you, y/n”

“I love you too, Nell.”

A/N: Awe cute vibes. I love Victoria Pedretti especially Nell and Dani so I loved writing this and hope you enjoyed reading it!

[krappykawa]

ಌ i mildly like you more than like (p.1)

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more. 

warnings. language

word count. 4.2k

oikawa tooru x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

parts. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

author’s note. i started writing this a few weeks ago and it was originally just going to be a one-shot but it got almost up to 10k words so i just decided to split it up HHSKFJ

Oikawa Tooru has perhaps one of the strongest drives when it comes to hard work. 

His tenacity is a thing of nature, something that awes you time and time again, no matter how many times you’ve seen him pick himself up before. It might be one of the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. 

But despite how in-tune he is with his senses on a mental standpoint, his Achilles’ heel lies with his inability to pick up on the signs his body gives him when it's had enough. Well, he can, but he just chooses not to listen. 

His first encounter with a crack in that heel came in his first-year, where you had to stand on the sidelines and watch as he fell to the ground during a game with a resounded sweep of gasps around the gym. That injury benched him for more than half the season. 

It was from that point on that you and Iwaizumi decided that if Oikawa wasn’t going to take care of his own body, then it would be up to you two to make sure his head is still above water. 

So it doesn’t surprise you when your phone flashes with a text message from Iwaizumi during one of your shifts at the bakery. 

1 new message: iwa (´,,•ω•,,)♡

Received: can you come pick up shittykawa

“Tooru?” 

A figure sits slumped against the benches in front of Aoba Johsai high, his eyes closed as he lays back. There’s something beautiful about the way that he looks almost ethereal in this relaxed state, the most relaxed you’d seen him in months. When he hears his name from your lips, he slowly blinks and sits up, the aura of relaxation falling from him. 

You almost regret having said anything in the first place when he puts up his guard the moment he sees you.

“Y/N-chan!” An easy smile falls between his lips, one that could’ve easily fooled anyone else. He always was very good at portraying happiness and contentment, especially when he’d been followed everywhere by people that only really want to see Oikawa Tooru, popular ladies’ man with charm that could make your mother swoon. 

But you’re one of the select few that knew him before he learned that his charm was a crucial asset in his arsenal. You knew him at his highs and his lows, so the convincing smile on his lips doesn’t convince you in the slightest. That’s because you notice the way his arms seem to sit limply in his lap and the way his eyes convey fatigue rather than joy. You also know that Iwaizumi called you here for one thing. 

“Don’t Y/N-chan me. Iwa texted me.” 

Oikawa’s facade seems to fall at that, replaced with a troubled expression. He brings his right hand up to wipe at his face in frustration. “Listen, I don’t know what he may have said, but he’s exaggerating. I’m fine.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He can’t seem to meet your eyes. “Well, that’s a lie considering that you’re out here right now and not in that gym,” you say matter-of-factly. 

“He physically dragged me out here!” Oikawa whines, throwing his hands in the direction of your school’s gym. 

A bemused chuckle leaves your lips as you move to sit beside him on the bench. Oikawa moves his bag to give you more room to sit, but you don’t move any closer. “And when has that ever stopped you?”

Oikawa getting kicked out of practice by Iwaizumi and even on select days, by their coach, is not an unusual occurrence. Iwaizumi has forcefully dragged Oikawa out of the gym before. Each and every time, Oikawa just marched right back in, despite Iwaizumi’s rage and his coach’s warnings. Even when his extra practice hours cause detrimental effects to his knee, Oikawa never seems to back down. 

It was something both you and Iwaizumi had grown used to in your years of friendship with Oikawa -- his incredibly stubborn determination to somehow work himself to the point of bad health. 

That’s how you know something different has happened today, because Oikawa is sitting out here on a bench rather than arguing with Iwa about how “a few more serves won’t hurt him!” (though they most definitely do, and Oikawa never seems to learn). 

You turn your head to look at him. He’s quiet now, though he still doesn’t meet your eyes. His gaze is instead focused on a dog that’s running in the park opposite the school. You know that he’s avoiding confirming your accusation. 

When it doesn’t seem like he’s going to talk anytime soon, you sigh. “All I’m saying is that if you really believed that you were fine, you would be using all your blood, sweat, tears in order to find a way back into the gym. Especially since the qualifiers are coming up.” You lean back against the bench as well, letting your eyes watch the dog happily run with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. “But instead you’re here, sitting on a bench in the afternoon. And from the looks of it, you had no intention of heading home.” 

He still doesn’t turn to look at you, the only indication that he even heard you is the mild tick in his jaw. You try not to think about how perfectly sculpted his side profile is.  

When he finally does speak, he still avoids your accusation of his fatigue and instead asks, “Why did Iwa-chan call you here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be working at the bakery?”

You shrug. “Business was slow. Besides, my boss likes me enough to let me go early today. He said I’d have to work overtime this weekend though.” 

At that, he finally turns to look at you. In the split second that you glance at him, you catch the guilt in his gaze before he looks away again. “You shouldn’t have come. You already overwork yourself being the only decent baker besides your boss that works there.”

A smile spreads on your face, your tone teasing. “Oikawa Tooru wants to talk to me about overworking myself?”

“I’m serious. You work too hard at that bakery for the measly amount that they pay you. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you try to cover your under eye circles with makeup.”

You feel your stomach jump, the familiar feeling causing your lips to tug upwards lightly. Tooru has been one of your best friends ever since you moved into the house across from his when you were seven years old. You hadn’t known when it happened, but you had come to school one day last year and just suddenly knew that your feelings were no longer limited to platonic when it came to the brown-haired volleyball captain. It’s in moments like these where you wonder how he hasn’t managed to figure your feelings out, considering how observant he is of everything else about you. 

“Yes, well I’m sorry that we can’t all look like we spawn from a god like you do. It’s seriously unfair how you can still look like that when you get even less sleep than I do.”

There’s only a hint of teasing in his voice when he says, “You think I look that handsome?” He turns to face you again, and this time there’s a blink of surprise lurking in his chestnut eyes. Especially now, with the sun casting golden glows on his hair and skin, he looks beautiful to you. 

Painfully, it reminds you about how unrequited your feelings are. Not that Oikawa has ever outright rejected you or even acknowledged knowing anything of your feelings, but him reciprocating your feelings didn’t even cross your mind as a possibility most days. Not with the group of girls that are always vying for his attention; not when his ex-girlfriend was what everyone thought was his perfect match; not when he hadn’t even attempted a committed relationship since Yua-san broke up with him all those months ago.

“Y/N?” His voice drags you out of your train of thought. You realize that you had been staring at him this entire time. 

You play off your thoughts with a roll of your eyes and turn your head back towards the park. “No,” you lie. “I just hear comments like that from your fan club all the time.” 

He nods lightly, his eyebrows creasing. “Right. Right, of course.” You’re about to ask about the odd tone in his voice when he speaks again. “You never did answer my question. Why did Iwa-chan send you here?”

“He wanted me to make sure that you actually went home instead of finding somewhere else to practice,” you say. A chuckle escapes your lips. You’re happy for the change in topic. 

“I am not that hard-headed!” You raise a brow at him. He pouts. “Fine. Maybe a little.”

“A little?”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Now you’re just being mean!”

“Yeah well, it’s payback. You’re a real pain in the ass.”

“In your ass, I hope.” 

You try to keep the blush from your cheeks as your mind takes you in a completely different direction. Suddenly, the space between you two seems too small. “You might want to rethink what you just said.” You try not to stare at his mouth as it falls open, your mind still invading your thoughts with images that you should not be fantasizing about when he’s sitting right beside you. 

“Wait.” Oikawa’s eyes go so comically wide that you almost forget your own embarrassment. “Jeez, that did not come out in the right way. Not right at all.” For what seems like the millionth time, he looks away from you, though this time it seems to be out of his own mortification over what he just said. There seems to be a blush to his cheeks, but you very well might have just imagined it. 

You let out a laugh, your arms coming up to clutch at your side. “I cannot believe that you’re supposed to be the big hotshot volleyball player that every girl has a crush on. There is not a charming bone in your body. I refuse to believe it.”

Oikawa lets out a small chuckle. “I don’t have to charm you when you already love even the uncharming parts of me. But if anyone asks, I am completely perfect. There are no uncharming parts to Oikawa Tooru. Don’t you dare spread false rumors, Y/N-chan!”

An amused snort leaves you at his last three sentences, but you decide to respond on the first part of his words. “Me? Loving you? Very unlikely.” You tease, trying your hardest to keep a straight face when Oikawa begins to pout. 

“If you don’t love me after all these years I will actually start crying right now and then those girls that follow me everywhere will come for your blood for making me cry.”

You chuckle again, catching yourself before you roll your eyes again. Next to you, Oikawa has his arms crossed with a convincing pout sitting on his lips that makes him look like a child. You smile despite yourself. “Okay, okay keep the dramatics to a minimum.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?

“Say that you love me.”

You feel a small pang as you plaster a smile on your face. “I mildly like you more than like,” you say, not really sure if you’d be able to say those three words to him at this point in time. Not when you know that they’re true.

Oikawa’s pout deepens, but you’re adamant on not saying more. 

“That’s all you’re getting from me, Crappykawa.” Suddenly you find yourself amused at the way you managed to sound exactly like Iwaizumi. It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spent so much time with him.

“Call me pretty and I’ll drop it.”

“You’re so needy sometimes, you know that?”

“Very much aware, Y/N-chan. As if you and Iwa-chan would ever let me forget.”

An eye roll comes easy to you and this time you don’t try to stop it. At this point, an eye roll is almost like a natural reaction to anything Oikawa says. “Fine. I’ll admit you’re not bad too look at.”

“Not great, but I’ll take it,” he concludes. “I can slowly feel the crack in my ego being restored.”

“If you want to be complimented please go seek out the never-ending stream of girls and guys that come your way hoping for even an ounce of your attention.” You hope that he doesn’t notice the mild bitterness in your voice. “I’m almost positive that they’ll be willing to tell you just how pretty you are and how everyone in the world should be in love with you.”

“They should be, shouldn’t they?” Oikawa bemuses.

A laugh leaves your lips despite your efforts. “You are insufferable sometimes. I don’t understand why I’ve kept you around for so long.”

“There you go with the insults again,” he tskes. “Have you and Iwa-chan been spending time together without me?” 

“Iwa and I are friends you know?”

“Yeah but you’re supposed to be my best friend,” he pouts. 

“You already said that line to Iwaizumi yesterday when he opted to carry me instead of you.”

“Yeah, well … I met you before he did!”

“Because you threw a volleyball at my head!”

“It was an accident!”

Laugher spills from both of your lips at the memory. It isn’t until Oikawa’s hair brushes upon your shoulder during his laughter that you realize that the space between you and Oikawa had increasingly gotten smaller. He’s so close that your thighs are only centimeters apart. 

As your laughter dies down, Oikawa’s bubbly personality begins to slip once more and the fatigue on his face becomes more evident. Eventually, he rests his head on your shoulder. You feel your stomach flutter pleasantly at his proximity. Even now, you can smell the cologne he regularly wears, the one you helped pick out back in first-year that he’s worn ever since. 

Once the silence lasts for a few moments, you finally attempt to ask him about practice once more. “Are you finally going to tell me why you didn’t fight back when Iwa threw you out of practice?” 

He sighs. “I guess you can say that I’m a little bit tired. Plus my knee hurts like all hell has reigned down.” His voice is so much different from just moments before that it’s hard to believe that they come from the same person. 

“You’re exhausted,” you say. It’s not a question, but more of a definite statement. 

“More or less,” he responds quietly. 

This time, it’s you that sighs. “Just … be careful. I get that you want to beat everyone and go to Nationals, but you’re no good to your team if you fuck your knee up so badly that you can’t play.”

“This year is our last chance,” he mumbles. “I just don’t want to look back later and wish that maybe I’d practiced just a little more.”

“You can’t beat anyone if you’re sitting on the bench from an injury that you got from overworking yourself.”

Oikawa winces at the tone in your voice. You almost feel guilty. Almost. 

“You’re going to work yourself to death. Iwaizumi and I aren’t just going to stand by and watch you dig your own grave,” you say softly. “For his sake, at least. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll try,” he says. For some reason, you believe him.

The two of you sit there in silence once more, the wind blowing lightly on your hair and the sounds of a busy town echoing around you. You wish that you could bottle this moment up and keep it with you forever, even if it’s only a testament to how much Oikawa values you as a best friend and nothing more. 

The thought makes your stomach drop in the slightest bit. It’s usually easy to contain your depth of feelings for Oikawa when the air around you two is lively and joking, but you’ve found over the years that quiet moments like these are the ones that really tear at your heart. 

He’ll never know the extent of your feelings for him, and you’re too afraid to wonder what would happen if he did know. 

Oikawa turns his head only slightly to look up at you while still continuing to lean on your shoulder. “You okay?” 

You give an almost imperceptible nod. “We should head home. I don’t know what Iwaizumi might do to you if he finds you out here after practice ends,” you say. 

Oikawa nods and detaches his head from your shoulder. 

The two of you have only walked a couple of meters when you hear a group of girls squeal from not too far away. Oikawa tenses from beside you. 

“Your fanclub found you,” you say.

“I’m aware.”

He doesn’t make any move to look back at them or stop. Instead, his pace seems to speed up. 

You furrow a brow. “You don’t want to talk to them? Thought you loved their attention?”

“Ouch. You really know how to wound a man, Y/N-chan,” he says with a small smile on his lips. You take notice of the weariness in his features. “But while I do enjoy them feeding my very justified ego, I am far too fatigued to deal with them.”

You nod and continue to walk beside him. The less interactions he has with his fan club, the better your mood will be. Besides, you weren’t going to fail Iwaizumi by not doing the one thing he asked you to do and not take Oikawa home. 

A giggle reaches your ears once more, and you sneak a glance behind you. The girls are talking amongst themselves, but still obviously walking in the direction you’re headed in. 

“Well, what do you wanna do? Cause they’re coming.”

Oikawa sighs and you notice a tick of irritation in his clenched jaw. You can see a million thoughts going through his mind, but before you can ask him about them, he reaches out to grab your hand.

“Is this okay? I’m just hoping that they’ll leave me alone if they think that you and I … uhm.”

Oikawa’s hands are long and calloused, but they feel nice as his fingers intertwine with your smaller ones. You try hard not to let the little gesture get to you. “Yeah … yeah of course.”

The two of you fall into silence again, mostly due to his fatigue and your inability to form coherent words that don’t have to do with his hand in yours. You’ve held hands with Oikawa before, but it was never with the intent to make you two look like a couple. You wish more than anything that he would break the silence before you blurt out something that you don’t want to. 

Your wishes are answered when Oikawa asks, “They’re still following us, aren’t they?” Oikawa still doesn’t look back as he says it.

In your short reverie you had forgotten about the girls behind you. You sneak another glance at them and find that Oikawa’s assumption is correct.

“Yeah, they are.”

Oikawa makes an incoherent noise. “Y/N-chan, could you be a dear and describe what they look like? I have a feeling I know who exactly they are.”

You turn back again, and really take a good look at them. They’re pretty. Really pretty, you think. You wonder for a second what they could’ve done to make Oikawa so adamant on not speaking with them. 

“There’s three girls. One with cropped red hair, one with long blonde hair, and one with brown hair in a high ponytail.”

“Oh, it’s them again. I don’t know what to do to get them to leave me alone at this point,” he sighs. 

“Who are they? What’s going on?”

His grip on your hand tightens. “Ichika-san and her friends. She sent me a love letter about a month ago. I tried to let her down easily, but it seems that she has yet to give up.”

“This girl is your stalker?”

“Not quite. At least, I hope not.”

The noise from behind you two gets increasingly louder. A giggle echoes on the mildly empty street and you catch Oikawa’s name being whispered between their conversations. Now that you’ve found out about what they’ve been putting him through, your annoyance spikes. 

“Not to sound paranoid or anything, but I’m not keen on these girls finding out where you live.” 

Oikawa is quiet for a moment, his brows furrowed in indecision. It seems that he makes up his mind when he turns his head to look at you. “Kiss me.”

Your step momentarily falters. 

“What?”

He shakes your intertwined hands. “We’re already holding hands. They might get the memo if we …”

“Oh.”

“I .. I mean only if you want to. You don’t have to. I just figured that .. nevermind. It’s a spotty plan. They might still not leave us alone and --”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.” You weren’t going to pass up a chance at kissing him, even if it’s only for a diversion. This doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anyways — you’d long since given up on him reciprocating your feelings, and this way you can kiss him while saving yourself from the possible embarrassment of rejection. 

“You will?”

“Where’s the harm? It’s just a kiss right?” You can barely hear yourself talking over the beating of your heart. “Besides, it could work.”

Oikawa shoots you a grateful smile. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready then.”

You try to shake out your nerves and instead focus your time in looking at your surroundings. The sound of giggling is still in close range when you spot a tree nearby. It’s still pretty out in the open, but not so much that you and Oikawa might draw stares, at least not from anyone that isn’t a part of the group of girls behind you. 

Gathering enough courage to not insanely mess this up, you tug on Oikawa’s hand to drag him with you in the direction of the tree. You make sure that you’re still in the line of sight of the three girls when you snake your arms around Oikawa’s neck and pull him down. 

His lips are softer than you imagined, and you’ve imagined kissing them more times than you’re willing to admit. Pleasantly, he tastes like oranges, which you don’t quite understand, considering that you can’t seem to remember him ever being fond of oranges. But then again, you can’t quite think of anything besides the feeling of his lips on yours.

Your lips move fluidly against his, soft but not entirely without passion. It takes everything in you to not kiss him with the force that you want to be kissing him with. 

Hands come down to grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him, gently placing a hand on the small of your back. You run your hands through his hair and wonder to yourself why you hadn’t ever played with his hair before. If you ever make it out of this with your senses still intact, you’d make playing with his hair a part of your regular routine.

He makes a small noise against your lips when you make the mistake of pulling a little too hard on his hair. His grip on you tightens. 

You don’t know how long you two stand there, lips locked with each other, but Oikawa doesn’t make any move to pull away. Instead he deepens the kiss by running his tongue against your bottom lip and pulling you even closer. You stifle a noise that threatens to come from deep in your throat. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and tips your head so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth. He has fantastic lips, you think. 

It’s only until you feel the air in your lungs begin to dwindle that you force yourself to pull away. The kiss lasted for longer than you expected, and by the way you pant with every breath, it feels like a kiss that the rest of the world should not have been privy to. 

You keep your eyes closed for a moment more, wanting to savor the moment for just a little longer. The moment you open your eyes, you’ll have to come back to the reality that this was just a one-time thing. You’ll have to come back to reality and remember that this kiss likely doesn’t mean anything to him. 

Slowly you open your eyes, and find that Oikawa’s already staring at you intently. His breathing comes out staggered, and his eyes have turned a few shades darker. What used to be a soft chestnut brown looks almost close to black. In them, you notice a flicker of an odd emotion that looks too familiar, but you don’t want to hope for anything. 

You slide your hands down to his chest. His hands are still planted on your back and face, touching you both gently and carefully. “Did it work?” Your voice comes out small.

He seems to wake up from his trance then, and turns to look in the direction that the girls were before. You look behind you to see one of the girls running away with her head in her hands. Her two friends follow after her in an attempt to console her.

“I think it did,” he says. And what he says after is so quiet you almost believe that you imagine hearing it. “In more ways than one.”

part two will most likely be up on thursday next week :)

[drxwsyni]

Petrified (pt.1)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST Summary: The two heroes step into a floral boutique, seeking blooming flowers for each other. Instead, they find you, the most precious rose of them all. In noticing just how much such a bright environment seems to take a heavy toll on you, they take it upon themselves to unearth the reasons why - and how to fix it, fix you.

(5.1k words)

Warnings: reader experiences anxiety, mild panic attacks

Friday nights were by far the most strenuous, challenging your mental fortitude to deal with some less than patient customers, along with the physical strain being put on your body to offer the best service possible.

Located in a convenient little building on the first floor was the bustling floral boutique where you were currently being worked far beyond your limits. It was the end of the week and customers were steadily rolling in, new ones entering just as others departed. All arriving for the sole purpose of purchasing a lively arrangement of blooming flowers, neatly accented with variations of greenery and berry-type vegetation.

Amongst the organized chaos of traffic, you were frantically trying to assemble the perfect customization of greenery for each shopper, wrapping it neatly in delicate paper or plastic and string. Applying the finishing touches, you returned to the front counter to hand off the bouquet in exchange for cash or credit, subtly observing the customers' pleased reaction to such an impressive display of flora.

In these reactions to your handiwork did you take pride in your otherwise mediocre occupation, serving as more than enough motivation to push on. However, it was all thanks to your quirk in which you were able to produce such a high quality of service.

Based on society’s standards, your quirk was almost laughable with how weak it was. The ability to support the growth of all types of plants, and maintain their health, titled Nurture. The smaller the plant, the easier it was for the growth to be accelerated. Unfortunate drawbacks did include the strain on your physical health, causing your body to grow more tired with excessive use. 

So, here you were nearing the end of your shift in the boutique, situated at the back of the shop slumped over a worktable while supported by a rickety wooden stool. Friday nights being date night for many, you had to put together more bouquets than you could keep track of in the last five hours. And thanks to your unrelenting desire to make every customer pleased with your work, you’d gone and used your quirk on each bouquet to give it a healthy, blooming appearance that none other could produce.  

It was nearing 8 o’clock at the moment and all you could think about was the sweet release of unconsciousness that sleep could provide when you heard the telltale jingle of the front door opening. Dragging yourself off the stool and to the front counter, you observed the new customer examining the display of small to medium sized plant pots on the shelves. There were no other shoppers in the store at the moment, leaving the sound of the radio playing quietly behind the counter and the static hum of an air purifier to envelope the room.

After another minute or so of perusing, the new customer made his way to the front counter, where you had occupied yourself with tidying up a few scattered ribbons from a previous arrangement. Looking up, you greeted him with a friendly “Good evening, what can I get for you tonight?”

The man had long black hair tied up in a half-bun, a calm but tired expression plastered across his face as he briefly glanced to the small trinkets on display on the counter before looking back at you.

“Just a simple bouquet, please.”

You couldn’t help but notice the fairly large scar under his right eye as he spoke. Must’ve been pretty painful, you thought before quickly responding. 

“Alright, and do you have any preferences on flora type and size of the arrangement sir?” One thing you valued about your job was the reason why people came to make purchases. Although not seriously interested in relationships yourself, you still adored the thought of being able to have such a wholesome impact on something as innocent as love. For this reason you always maintained a bright personality when dealing with shoppers, hoping to convey without words how happy you were to support them in what many would deem a daunting endeavour. 

“Just a small bouquet is fine, I trust you’d be better at choosing the flowers than me so you can decide what goes in it.” He gave a gentle smile and proceeded to wait as you typed in the order on the desktop.

“Okie dokie, it’ll take me about five minutes to put everything together. You can take a seat if you’d like or check out our catalogue for upcoming seasonal arrangements.” With that you politely excused yourself and headed towards the room in which all the live greenery was stationed, straw woven basket in hand. It was a space just towards the back of the shop, closed off with glass sliding doors to maintain the perfect temperature so as not to wilt the more delicate foliage.

Briefly glancing in the direction of the customer, you saw he had moved to sit down in the small waiting area, looking down at the phone in his hand. He wore a black long sleeve sweater with a white undershirt just barely peeking out at the collar, along with a pair of black, generally form fitting pants. He seemed to be quite stoic, with an almost practiced calm nature. You wondered what kind of person had woven their way into his heart without being deterred by such an intimidating initial appearance. 

Returning to the task at hand, you began making an assortment of flowers with other smaller, complementary pieces of plant life. Delicately pulling each choice from their stand and placing them into the basket, you decided that the current selection should be satisfactory. Sliding open the doors of the greenery room, you made your way back to the front counter, setting the basket down next to the assembly station.

“Excuse me, sir? Could you please take a moment to look at the selections before I wrap them up?”

The man looked up from his phone, offering a quick “Of course,” before making his way in front of the work station where you were currently stood behind.

He momentarily looked over the array of flora, hands in his pockets, before lightly nodding. “That looks perfect to me.”

You smiled slightly more at the approval. “Great, now for the wrapping―is there a certain colour or material quality you had in mind. We also just added some new ribbons to our current selection if you’d like to take a look at that.”

“Unfortunately, my partner is the creative one in the relationship. So once again I’m going to need you to make that decision.”

You always enjoyed the challenge of adapting to these kinds of situations, putting something together based on little information. It always seemed to work out, so you had no objections with his request.

“No worries,” you began as you pulled out a sheet of paper, coloured with a soft muted yellow, overall bringing out the whites of the flowers “plenty of customers ask the same thing so I’d like to think by now I’m at least a little capable of making the right decisions.” As you worked with moving the greenery into place, he continued with the idle conversation.

“I’d imagine you do just fine, but I suppose we’ll see once I give it to them.” He let out a small huff, almost a chuckle as you proceeded to tie a thin white ribbon around the base of the bouquet a few times before pulling it into a bow.

“Well, nothing makes me happier than to see that I’m making people happy.” You pick up the bouquet and move to the register, ringing up the cost of the arrangement, the customer following suit. “So, if they enjoy it you’re more than welcome to stop by and let me know.” You sheepishly smile at him as he hands over the payment in cash.

“I’ll make a note of that, thank you.”

You glance at the clock on the wall, seeing you only had an hour left before your shift ends. Inwardly, you decide that you can handle a little more physical strain to use your quirk on the flowers. After all, this man had been kind enough not to be pushy like so many people had been with you today, and you even got to have complete freedom over the arrangement.

“I’m gonna grab some flower food in the back, I’ll just be a minute.”

He nods as you scoop up the bouquet in your arms, making your way through the large doors towards the back of the room.

You set the bouquet down on the workbench and bring your hands to hover just above the greenery. Concentrating, you will yourself to produce the remaining energy you can muster to treat the flowers. It takes a few seconds, but dimly your hands begin to emit a warm, yellow glow. You watch as the blooms become more vibrant, surging with life while other smaller plants become more plump, as if they had just been picked. 

Satisfied with your work, with a new sense of exhaustion threatening to make you collapse if you're not careful, you return to the counter―of course not forgetting to grab the packet of flower food on the way there. 

Handing over the bouquet, you offer a warm “Have a nice evening, sir.”

“You too.” He gives another quick smile, and with that he walked out of the boutique, flowers in hand.

―――

The rest of your shift went pretty smoothly, the last hour usually having the least amount of traffic. You only had to deal with one more rude customer, which you were grateful for. Even then you still forced yourself to use your quirk on their order, not being able to deny yourself the validation of good service.

By the time you clocked out it felt as if your limbs weighed a thousand pounds each. Fridays were always like this, and you dreaded it each week. However that still didn’t stop you from doing what you know best, regardless of the toll it was taking on your health.

A long time ago you decided that no matter what you wouldn’t work Saturdays due to a certain incident which involved you passing out in the back room, only for a coworker to find you thirty minutes later when an angry customer began repeatedly ringing the desk bell because there was nobody out front to assist them.

You thought back on that time as you walked home that night, however daydreaming only served to make you more delirious, causing you to trip over a rock and stumble a bit before finding your sense of balance. 

Choosing to focus on your surroundings instead, you slowly made your way back to your apartment building. Although excruciatingly painful to do so, you heated up some leftovers and properly got ready for bed instead of opting to immediately crash onto your mattress.

Sleep came almost instantly, and you remained in your incapacitated state until 1 pm the next day.

―――

The weekend went as soon it came, and once again you found yourself back at the flower shop on Monday, tying the strings of your apron around your back. The days leading up to Friday were naturally not that busy, which you were thankful for. If they were you probably wouldn’t have enough energy by the time that nightmare of a weekday rolled around.

When the end of the week finally arrived, every part of your being desperately wished it didn’t. Thursday night had unfortunately zapped you of most of your your strength thanks to a serious incident with shipping. 

On these nights the place where your boutique gets their plant life from sends in an extra shipment for what your coworkers had deemed “Flower Friday.” The normal stock would run out before the end of the night without it, so at the end of your shift you patiently awaited for the shipping truck to arrive.

However, once it did the driver and you made the realization that the shipment had taken heavy damage in transit thanks to improper packaging. Cursing inwardly, you still accepted the cargo, knowing you’d have to use your quirk to repair the foliage.

That was exactly what you did, leaving yourself utterly burnt out by the time all the damage was repaired, similar to how you would be by the end of those long Friday shifts.

But you were stubborn, and would not let a little fatigue when you got up the next day to get ready for work stop you. No, instead you dragged yourself out of bed, making a resolution to hold off on using your quirk with a few bouquets here and there to save your energy.

And yet, when the time came to add the finishing touches on each completed arrangement, you decided it was worth the suffering to see the pleased looks on your customer’s faces, and the ideas of how it’ll make their night just a tiny bit more perfect.

Now it was 8:30 pm, and you were fighting every excruciating urge to not black out where you sat, that being on the old wooden stool in the back room.

You almost didn’t register the sound of the front door bells rattling against each other as another customer made their way into the shop. Somehow you willed yourself out of the stool, swearing you saw black spots in front of your vision for a few seconds before arriving at the front counter.

You still genuinely wanted to be in good spirits for your customers, so you pulled a tired smile on your face and looked up to greet the customer.

“Good evening sir, what can I―,”

Stopping mid sentence, your brain processed your lagging thoughts for you to realize the shopper was the same man from last Friday who had been extremely relaxed with how you handled his purchase, much to your appreciation.

“Oh hey, you were here last Friday right? How did your partner find the bouquet?”

The voice you heard respond wasn’t from the person you had just addressed, but another man standing next to him. In your fatigued state it took you until that moment to process his presence. He had long blond hair pulled back into a bun, sporting a black leather jacket, loose white button up and black jeans. Adorned with an expensive looking watch, rings and a thin chain around his neck, the man spoke up.

“So you’re the pretty little songbird who put that sweet bouquet together? Well, his partner thought it was just rockin, ain’t that right Shouta?” He slung an arm around the shoulders of the man next to him.

Once again, your brain running on fumes caused severely delayed reactions, ending with you standing there trying to comprehend the playful compliment sent your way, and how this man was the partner in question for a few seconds. A faint blush appearing on your cheeks, you responded. “Ah yes, I suppose I am. I'm so glad to see you enjoyed it that much.”

The man who you now know to be named Shouta sighed slightly. “He insisted that I bring him here to meet you and get another bouquet. However I’m sure you’re exhausted after a long day so feel free to decline his request.”

To that you gave a lighthearted chuckle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “As if I’d ever deny someone service after seeing how well it was received last time. What can I do for you sir?”

The blond maintained a grin, responding: “Well first you don’t gotta call me “sir” sunshine, Hizashi is just fine. Secondly, I thought I’d get my sweetheart here some flowers to return the favour.”

He’s probably just a naturally affectionate person, you thought to yourself in contemplation of his forward response. 

“Sounds good, any preference on flora and arrangement size?” You pulled up the terminal on your desktop for filing orders while the blonde continued.

“How ‘bout you do what ya did last time and make whatever you want. Same size works too.”

You finish up with the order and close the terminal. “Alrighty then, it’ll take around five minutes to make selections so feel free to browse or take a seat in the waiting area.”

“Thanks angel.” Hizashi gave a small wink before occupying himself with a pamphlet on flower upkeep resting on the counter, bringing it back to the seating area.

Briefly glancing in Shouta’s direction, he gives an apologetic look, to which you return with a warm smile before grabbing your basket and heading to the greenery room.

Once inside you take a deep breath, not realizing how shallow your breathing had gotten. Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it. 

You were never one to be comfortable with receiving affection, something about it always making your heart race for no good reason. It was anxiety that you couldn’t seem to control no matter how long you spent trying to become stronger in these situations. 

Moving on, you start selecting flowers here and there, opting for a darker colour scheme for Shouta, seeming as if he was a much more mellow person than his boyfriend who would appreciate something less flashy. You figured the classic rose would be a good option, choosing the blooms modified to have a much darker crimson colour than the natural type. Accenting it with small white flowers and leafy stems of greenery, you walked out of the room, satisfied with the variety.

Upon returning you see Shouta and Hizashi had already walked up to the assembly station, talking to themselves while they waited for you to return. 

Coming up to your side of the counter, you set the basket of foliage down for them to examine. Despite your exhaustion that’s beginning to become quite alarming as you feel yourself repeatedly growing lightheaded, you eagerly await their reactions; specifically that of the man who’s supposed to receive the flowers.

“Exactly what I had in mind, well done (y/n).”

The use of your first name catches you off guard, having normally been referred to “miss” or the occasional rude “lady” by most of your customers. A confused look plasters across your face for a split second, only for your brain to finally register oh right, you're wearing a name tag, idiot.

“Lovely, I suppose I shouldn’t ask about wrapping either and just get started?” 

“You know it songbird,” replied the blonde.

With that you started the assembly, turning around to the wall of wrapping to make a selection. You chose a transparent plastic, lightly tinted grey, with a black pattern of lace towards the bottom. Pairing it with a thin gold ribbon, you returned back around to lay out the materials.

“Honestly though, ya barely know Shouta but you still hit all the right notes with these. You’re pretty damn good at―wait, is that my radio show playing over those speakers?”

Stopping at the question, you look up before glancing behind you at the radio which was playing fairly quietly in the background. You remember hearing earlier that the show tonight was pre recorded because the host had some special plans tonight that he couldn’t miss. Which then led you to the understanding that oh god the host was here in your flower shop, and this was part of those unmissable plans.

Turning back to face the two men, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, face draining of colour in the process. Standing in front of you was the pro hero himself, Present Mic, buying flowers for his boyfriend. Like a domino effect happening in your brain, this epiphany led you to connect that his boyfriend was the same man you’d seen quite a few times in the media alongside the voice hero, known as Eraserhead.

Now, you didn’t have a fear of pro heroes, because who would be afraid of such upstanding people, living their life only to protect others. No, what you did have a fear of was people who were in the slightest way intimidating. Call it social awkwardness or just another one of the many things that give you severe anxiety, but knowing how important these two men were in comparison to you nearly had you passing out right then and there. 

But of course doing that would only make you feel worse, so instead you managed to steel yourself enough to stay conscious, which would hopefully last you until the end of this god forsaken Friday night.

“O-Oh, yeah it is actually. I like to keep it on Friday nights to combat the boredom when things start to slow down. It’s a really good show.”

Wait, should I tell them I know they’re pro heroes? Would that make it weird? Would it be weird not to say anything and lie about it?

Your thoughts ran at a million miles per minute while you attempted to control the fast paced thudding of your heartbeat. Why is this bothering me, it’s not like they’re not being friendly. Please just calm down.

As if sensing your growing uneasiness due to the silence, Shouta spoke up. “It’s nice to hear someone can stand his blaring.”

“Aw baby, don’t be like that.” Hizashi playfully nudges him while you resume your work, motioning to cut off the ribbon from the roll. He continues. “Well, in any case at least now I know I’ve got a cute lil’ fan listening in on my show every week.”

Awkwardly, you stammer out a quiet “N-no problem, I guess.”

Not fully paying attention to what you were doing anymore thanks to the uncontrollable swirl of thoughts muddling your brain, you manage to nick yourself on the scissors you were holding in an attempt to sever the ribbon from the roll. Drawing your hand back quickly from the blade, you observed a small bead of blood forming over the cut.

“Ah, dangit. Sorry about that, I’ll be right back…” Your sentence trails off as you turn and leave the two to tend to the cut when a hand wraps around your wrist, effectively spinning you back to face them. You let out a small yelp in shock, looking up wide eyed to see that Shouta had produced a thin container from his jacket, setting it on the counter. He proceeded to grab a tissue from the box laying askew next to a small display, before bunching it slightly and applying pressure to the wound.

“I apologize, it was our fault for distracting you from your work.” After a few more seconds of pressure, he releases your hand to open up the small container, pulling out a bandaid from it.

“Really, i-it’s not a big deal.” Somehow you manage to squeak out a few words of consolidation, feeling as if it was your fault to burden them by clumsily hurting yourself. Before you can manage to make any more protests, a pang of fatigue washes over you. Adrenaline, you presume, that had just faded after being startled by the cut and Shouta’s actions leaving your legs shaking weakly beneath you.

You gripped the edge of the counter for support with your uninjured hand, letting the erasure hero apply a bandaid over the cut.

“This idiot has a habit of rushing into fights without a plan, and naturally gets injured quite frequently.” He motioned to Hizashi with a nod in his direction. “It’s because of that I started keeping bandages on me at all times.”

The idle chit-chat helped calm your nerves, distracting you from what just happened. Unfortunately, it was obvious that at least physically there was something wrong.

“Ya doin’ alright there songbird. Lookin a lil’ faint…” Hizashi eyed your paled and slightly shaky form with worry.

“What? Oh, of course―it’s just been a really long night.” You chuckled dismissively as Shouta finished with the bandage, letting you resume your work. 

This time you carefully handled the scissors, not getting too close to your fingers as you severed the ribbon.

“I mean no offense when I say this, but I have to agree with Hizashi. You look really exhausted, is this just from work?”

Your eyes flutter up to the two men, both awaiting a response with a mix of concern and something you couldn’t quite identify across their faces. Quickly looking back down in hopes of doing so lessening the growing anxiety building, you contemplate what to say next.

Do I tell them that I use my quirk at work? Would it make them stop worrying if I dismissed how dead I probably look? I don’t want to come off as someone who just complains all the time.

Finishing with the ribbon, you reply. “It’s just, you know...end of the week fatigue. Nothing to worry about.” You force a warm smile, hoping it convinces them as the obvious exhaustion in your voice surely wouldn’t.

Before the two can interrogate you any further, you dismiss yourself to the back room with the bouquet to retrieve a packet of flower food. Of course, your real intention is to utilize your quirk for what was hopefully the last time that night.

You stared at the bouquet laying in front of you on the workbench, hands lightly hovering over the blooms. With unconsciousness threatening your already weakened form so closely, you ponder for a moment if nurturing the greenery is really worth it, or even possible. They look healthy, and if it weren’t for your insanely high standards, nobody would likely bat an eye at the quality.

But alas, the desire to make people happy was much stronger than your concern for self-preservation, so you shoved any negative thoughts out of your mind and did your best to concentrate. 

As usual on nights like these, it took a few seconds to activate your quirk, but soon enough the familiar glow began to emit from the palms of your hands. The rose petals took on a new sense of life with your help, even growing in size ever so slightly along with the other miscellaneous plants. Pleased, you finished up, letting your hands steady you against the table for a few seconds longer than normal. 

Aside from the mildly increased shakiness in your legs, it seems your physique was otherwise the same as it was before you started. Grateful for this reality, you picked up the flowers and grabbed some flower food, making sure not to rush yourself on the way back for fear of tripping over your own two feet. 

The two men were once again awaiting your return, this time at the cash. 

Trying not to sigh too loudly while maintaining a polite smile, you handed the bouquet to Shouta and began to ring up the order on the register. Hizashi pulled out his wallet and handed over a cash payment. While you desperately tried to do mental math to give him back his change, the erasure hero spoke up.

“Listen (y/n), even though you might not admit it to us, I know burnout when I see it. You clearly take pride in your job but that doesn’t mean you can neglect your health like this.”

You froze in place at the sudden accusation, tonight will be the death of me. Handing the change to Hizashi, you acknowledged Shouta. “I really am fine, and I’m doing what I love so a little tiredness is worth the reward.”

Shouta simply sighs at this, letting his partner attempt to get through to you. “Okay sweetheart, but when ya look like you're about to pass out it worries us, ya know?”

“Well thanks for the compliment, but I have to insist. This is just more important than any unfortunate side effects of the job.” You blame it on the prolonged exposure to an extreme lack of energy, but you were starting to feel irritable at the display of troubled sentiments, or maybe it was more so an uneasiness at the blatancy of it. Either way, you were glad when they finally finished up with their purchase.

Maintaining eye contact that would send you crumpling if you looked any longer, Shouta made his peace with your resistance for now. “Fine. At least promise that you’ll go straight home when your shift ends. In your state doing more than necessary would just be irrational, not to mention how dangerous it can get around this time.” 

Acknowledging the both of them, you spoke. “I will, I hope you enjoy the flowers.”

Dropping a bill you couldn’t quite distinguish into the tip jar, Hizashi flashed you a smile. “We ready to rock Shouta?” He was returned with a nod, and the two began moving towards the front door. Just before the two left, the blonde called out. “You take care of yourself, ‘kay?” 

“Of course, Goodnight.” With a small wave to see them off, you finally were able to breath as the sound of the door shutting and the all too common static noise of the boutique filled the room, no other customers in sight.

Lifting your head to examine the clock hanging on the wall, you saw that it was already 8:50 pm. How on earth did it take me twenty minutes to do one order? They usually take me ten at the most. You took into account your less than ideal state, and the accident with the scissors, coming to the conclusion that those events along with the bits of conversation exchanged were more than enough to set you back.

Resolving that there weren’t going to be any customers later that night, as closing was at 9:00, you began cleaning up the shop.

You couldn’t exactly remember the time between cleaning and finally taking account of the money in the register along with tips, but at this point you didn’t care.

Emptying the jar onto the counter, you looked over the haul. Loose change mostly, a generous five dollar bill here and there and what is that.

Picking up a bill that by far stood out amongst the pile, you identified that it was worth one hundred dollars. You stared in disbelief for what felt like hours, but it was only about a minute, before returning it to the pile and adding up the total, putting the money away. 

The delirious state that was only getting worse didn’t allow you to speculate who the extremely generous customer was. Rather, you finished up the final tasks to close up shop.

Finally hanging up your apron and pulling on your jacket and bag, you made your way out of the front entrance and locked the doors behind you.

[lyssismagical]

evermore

Just a Solid Vent Fic 

I wanna do 30 days of Taylor Swift-inspired fics (folklore and evermore) lmao but idk yet we’ll see lemme know tho 

 *

As a compromise for Tony not being able to pay Peter’s tuition to MIT thanks to his full ride, Tony bought an apartment right beside campus for Peter to live in, to ensure no awkward adventures trying to be Spider-Man with a roommate.

Peter’s still adamant about getting a job and paying for his food, phone bill, and any other things like clothing or entertainment.

And balancing classes, patrolling, and a job, isn’t easy, of course. But it’s always been better for him to work hard than to give himself time to think. It’s not like his mental health is on hold, but it’s easier to put it aside when he’s got so much to do all the time.

It doesn’t help that he’s also on the debate team thanks to MJ, and in the robotics club thanks to Ned.

When November rolls around and it brings the final projects, Peter pushes himself to the limit to keep up with everything.

He starts dropping his sleep to only a nap whenever he can squeeze it in, working all afternoon, classes all morning, and Spider-Man all night, and he starts making up excuses for anything that isn’t a number one priority.

He stops seeing his friends, stops calling May back, stops replying to Tony’s worried texts, stops helping out with his professors or the librarian or his classmates. He stops cleaning his apartment, letting dishes pile up on the counters and laundry go unwashed.

It’s bad, and he knows that, rationally and logically, he knows.

But that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

Three weeks, he tells himself.

And he keeps pushing.

MJ shows up at his apartment out of the blue when he’s studying away, and he barely manages to clear the fog in his head to stumble for the door.

“I can’t talk right now,” he says before she can even say hello. “I’ve gotta study for my physics exam.”

“No, you’ve gotta chill the fuck out.”

He shakes his head, leaving the door open as he turns his back and heads into his kitchen for a quick snack so he can get back to his work. “No, I have to study.”

“Oh my god, you live in a garbage dump,” she says, eyes going wide as she takes in the state of his apartment. “When was the last time you washed a dish? Or, gross, your hair?”

He doesn’t bother responding, rolling his eyes and downing a protein bar. “Two weeks, now, and then I’m done for a month.”

“At this rate, I don’t know if you’ll make it through the next two weeks.”

Peter can’t help but roll his eyes again, part of him hating how much he’s lashing out despite wanting help, needing help, but unable to find the strength to stop it from happening as he brushes past her again.

“I know you’re stressed, I know you’re anxious about exams and papers and labs, but, seriously, Peter?” she says, following him to where he’s working in the living room, papers and binders and textbooks strewn across every surface. “You’re a genius, okay? You’ve been getting excellent grades all year. The only reason you might not do well on these projects is because you’re working yourself to death.”

He shakes his head, feeling very suddenly like he might cry. “It’s not that easy. Just… I don’t want to deal with this right now, okay?”

MJ doesn’t take that as a good answer, though, sitting beside him on the old couch. “I know you, okay? I know you better than most people do. I’ve seen you in some of the worst states you’ve been in. I know this. You can’t pretend that this is okay or normal or that this is you doing fine. I don’t believe it for a second.”

He opens his mouth to fight back, to argue, to try to convince her otherwise, or maybe just to kick her out. But he hesitates.

After the Snap’s reversal, she was the one who devoted all her time to taking care of him. He was such a mess of PTSD and depression and emptiness, but she was there. She kept the lights on for him, she brought him food and water, held him after nightmares, talked him down from panic attacks every other day. She was there, despite everything, she was always there.

Tony was too far and he never wanted to bother May, so he regularly would drop by her fire escape where she would patch him up after patrols, and occasionally, let him sleep next to her and make sure to get him to school on time.

She’s always been there.

She’s held him together, kept him sane, helped him through it all.

It wouldn’t be fair to get pissed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, shoving a hand through his mess of greasy, tangled curls. “I’m such a mess, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m drowning.”

And she nods because she’s always understood, always known what he means. She puts her hand over his. “You deserve a nap. C’mon.”

He goes to shake his head, looking to where his lab is only half-done, he’s only a few chapters into the textbook to get prepared for his exam, rough notes scribbled out for a paper.

“No, c’mon. You’re taking a nice nap. You deserve it,” she repeats, tugging more insistently at his wrist.

But he shakes his head this time, pulling his hand away. “If I stop, I won’t be able to start again.”

“Peter-”

“I’m serious, if I take a nap or a break or take a second to breathe, I will crumble and I won’t be able to put myself back together in time for these due dates. I won’t get back up. I just-” He stops, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his wet eyes. “I need to keep pushing for the next two weeks and then I can fall apart.”

MJ shakes her head, fingers wrapping around his thin wrist. “That’s not healthy. And it certainly wouldn’t be right for me to let you do that.”

“I’ll fail my classes if I don’t do well on these assignments and exams. I need to keep going. I know it’s bad, but if I get into bed, I will fall into a slump and I won’t get anything done.”

Surprising both him and what seems like herself, she nods, holding onto him a little tighter like he’ll disappear before her very eyes. “Fine. But I’m going to stay here with you and make sure you don’t die over the next two weeks, alright? And you have to listen when I tell you to eat or watch stupid reality TV shows with me.”

He hums out an agreement, letting himself slump into her side, eyes focusing in on his mess of homework laid out before him.

“Come on. Step one, is getting you showered and in clean clothes because you smell like you spent the night in a dumpster.”

*

MJ does exactly as she promised she would. She calls it a ‘mental health sleepover’ and they set up camp in the living room.

She calls in sick for him at work for most of the week, telling them that he caught the flu and wouldn’t be back until after his exams, and even then, he’d already booked most of Winter Break off to go home to New York.

There wasn’t much she could do, in all honesty, it wasn’t like she could force him to sleep or take a break without a fight, but she could make him healthy meals and stop him from going out patrolling, which was enough to take a big load off his shoulders.

And she occasionally can convince him to watch those dumb reality TV shows, which occasionally makes him fall asleep on the couch for at least an hour or two.

It helps, of course, but it doesn’t solve any of the problems.

As soon as he’s finished exams, he’s going to drop, he’s going to fall, he’s going to drown, let the waves take him.

And nobody will be able to help him then.

“I booked your flight home,” MJ says over dinner and while he’s finishing up his lab report. “My flight’s a few hours after yours, so I’ll be with you until you board and then the Starks will pick you up.”

“Thanks. I really owe you one,” he says, only half-listening as he starts on his paper.

She grabs him by his shoulder and makes him turn to her laptop screen. “Say yes to the dress time. Your paper can wait a bit.”

“There’s only so much I can procrastinate,” he says but he’s already closing his laptop and tucking himself into her side, and shoulders finally relaxing.

She starts the episode, on a low volume, and presses a quick kiss to his temple.

By the time they’re onto the second episode, Peter’s slurring out his insults to the dresses some of the women pick, making fun of the different styles, and blinking getting longer and longer.

“That neckline?” Peter goes, giggling into MJ’s shoulder. “Especially with those shoes?”

“You’re a bitch.”

“I know, but seriously?” he laughs again, a little window into the person he once was. “I mean the first option wasn’t bad, but the choice of a grey dress in the first place…”

MJ’s voice goes all soft and gentle when she next speaks up, “Come on, go to sleep, you can afford to take a little break.”

And he nods sleepily against her shoulder, tucking himself just a little closer, making himself small against her side. It’s simple, for now.

*

As soon as he’s done his last exam, he can feel the adrenaline wearing off, disappearing from within him, all energy draining from his very veins.

He goes straight home afterwards, ignoring everybody who tries to stop him for a chat. And as soon as he makes it to his apartment, he goes straight to bed, tugging the sheets right over his head.

He shouldn’t do this, he knows. He should call MJ, ask that she drop everything for him again because he can feel himself slipping, but he won’t. He can’t. He doesn’t even know when the last time he saw his phone was, let alone have the effort to leave his blankets and try to find it. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He feels empty and exhausted and strung out. Carved hollow. Putting everything he has into the past few months, he feels like he has nothing left to give.

There’s a knock on his front door, but he doesn’t move.

A few minutes later, his phone rings, somewhere in another part of the apartment. It rings again and again, a symphony for him to pass out to.

*

Time passes strangely when he’s this deep in a depressive episode. He doesn’t know how long he’s been huddled under his blankets, hiding from the world. It could’ve been anywhere between a couple hours and a few days, he doesn’t know.

His phone continues ringing, far away and echoing through his dreams, tears sliding down his cheeks at random intervals, hands trembling where they’re tucked under his chest.

He feels like he’s drifting away, collapsing into himself, fading away into nothingness.

He feels empty, hollow, gone.

He gave everything he had into school and work over the course of four months, and he has nothing left to give anymore. He’s nothing more than an empty well.

And he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to pull himself together, pack, get a flight home, and pretend to be one hundred percent for Morgan.

He’d rather just die here, in this cave he’s built, ghost-like and fading away already, than have to face another soul.

*

When he hears his front door unlocking, he knows he should be worried. Nobody has a spare copy of his key except for Ned, who already went home to New York a few weeks back.

He knows it should be at least a little concerning that somebody is breaking into his apartment, but he can’t find it in him to care. He doesn’t have the energy to move or hide or try to protect himself.

He just curls up a little tighter and hopes that this won’t be his last day.

“Peter?”

He lifts his head, just enough to see over his cave of his blankets.

And standing in his bedroom doorway is Tony.

“Hi,” he breathes, curling up a little tighter, knowing he’s safe.

Tony slips into his room and sits at the end of his bed, one hand on Peter’s ankle. “MJ called when you wouldn’t answer your phone or let her in. She knew something was up.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I saw something like this coming after you finished your senior year and spent two weeks sick and depressed. I thought you’d be home in time before you started feeling so run down, but I guess I was wrong.”

Peter doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that, so instead he lets his head fall into the pillows again.

“I’m not going to make you do anything yet, I think you could use a bit more time here. Though, Morgan thought two days sleeping was plenty, I think another one might do you well. But tomorrow, we’re going to get you fed and showered and your apartment clean, and then this weekend, we’ll get a flight home. Sound good?”

He nods, though he’s pretty sure he would agree to pretty much anything so long as the decisions are taken out of his hands.

“Come here,” Tony murmurs, sliding into the space beside Peter, arms open. Peter finally feels at home when he crawls into the awaiting hug. “MJ mentioned Say Yes to the Dress bingeing, you feel up for making fun of more dress choices?”

Peter laughs half-heartedly against Tony’s chest, tucking himself into him like a child would, and nods, breathing in the soothing scent of motor oil and expensive cologne.

He knows he’ll fall apart again, he knows that it’s not going to be a permanent solution, but the time being, he has Tony’s arms around him, a reality TV show quietly keeping them company, and the relief of having time to feel miserable before he has to pick himself up, it’s enough for now. It’ll be enough.

He’ll be okay with people like Tony and MJ at his side.

He’ll be okay.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @fancyxparker  @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[cosmiccandydreamer]

Stability Chapter 7

Otis Driftwood x Reader

( I don't own these gifs)

"I'll never be your beast of burden

My back is broad but it's a-hurting

All I want for you to make love to me

I'll never be your beast of burden

I've walked for miles, my feet are hurting

All I want for you to make love to me"

Otis heard you before he saw you, dancing and singing in your cut off shorts and tired shirt. Your walkman swung dangerously back and forth on your hips as you sang to the rolling stones song while you washed your car. It was a super hot summer day in the unforgiving heart of texas. The car was your baby. It was a gift from Otis for your birthday, you had fallen in love with it when they towed it to the house after the last group of victims was captured. You told him you always wanted one of these so he and Rufus secretly fixed it up for you. He still insisted you go everywhere with him in his truck but you convinced him to let you drive yourself once in a while ( but not too far ) Spraying the hose over the hood you leaned over to get the farthest part, your ass poking out in the air.

"Am I hard enough?

Am I rough enough?

Am I rich enough?

I'm not too blind to see"

It was obvious the music was so loud you didn't hear him as he dragged a screaming victim toward the shed in the back. He stopped dragging her for a second to watch you and laugh softly. Well, that's adorable and hot as shit he thought to himself. The poor girl he was currently dragging took this opportunity to claw and bite at his hand in an attempt to get away in. For A split second she did, She wiggled out of his grasp and tried to take off towards the road. He quickly grabbed her and threw her on the ground pulling her by the hair back towards the house. All this while you were none the wiser, enjoying your song on your headphones. He resumed his spot leaning against the house staring at you.

"I'll never be your beast of burden

So let's go home and draw the curtains

Music on the radio

Come on baby make sweet love to me" 

 

You sang the last part a little louder using the sponge as a microphone. You were getting into this what you assumed was a solo performance. Swinging your hips back and forth you grabbed the hose and sprayed all over the trunk of the car. He was thrusting the girl back and forth by her hair to shush her as he leaned against the side of the house watching you. "Damn bitch shut the fuck up!, I'm trying to enjoy the view". He looked toward her in disgust that she would dare shrek and distract him. "Mister please let me go, I won't tell anyone". " I SAID SHUT UP" 

He suddenly heard the music better now, he looked up to see you with your headphones down now around your neck the music softly playing in a muffled tone. Staring at him with a smile slightly leaning against the car. " Whatcha doing there is handsome?". " Watching you " he smirked. 

"Am I hard enough?

Am I rough enough?

Am I rich enough?

I'm not too blind to see"

"Oh are ya now? So ...what are you gonna you do with her?" You pointed with the sponge at the dry heaving girl still on the ground with her hair in his fist. "Ah I don't know" he looked down at her then back at you " any ideas?" He lifted an eyebrow at you. "Maybe a few" you bit your lip a little tilting your head to the side. " I was going to tie her up in the shed and try that experiment I was running with you the other night but I don't think she's gonna survive. She also won't stop squirming", he chuckled and thrust her a little bit more back and forth. She muttered something inaudible. "That's fine," you said, tossing the sponge into the bucket. " We can tie her to the bed after she might stop squirming then." You flashed him a wicked smile.

 He winked at you, "my god woman you are wicked...have I told you I love you lately?" He asked, clearing his throat, the bulge that started to grow in his jeans was becoming more and more distracting. "Hmmm" you replied " maybe but you can show me how much you love me later" you leaned on the hood of the car allowing for him to get a good view of your shirt.

 He hastily sucked in the air standing up quickly, "hold that thought" he says turning back toward the shed. "Hey! " You shouted he turned back to you real quick, spinning the poor girl as well, her feet and legs dragging.  You took the soapy sponge and tossed it at him, smacking him in the chest soaking his white shirt. He cursed under his breath then laughed, wiping his face with his other hand. "You are gonna pay for that as soon as I'm back from tying this bitch up". He looked back at you one more time while heading back to the shed. 

Oh, little sister

Pretty, pretty, pretty girls

Ooh, you're a pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty girl

Pretty, pretty, such a pretty, pretty, pretty girl

Come on, baby, please, please, please

 

"God I hate this fucking song can you change it?"... "OTIS hello?". Baby sat up from the floor of the van and snapped her fingers at Otis. "Hey get your goddamn fingers out my face woman the fuck is wrong with you" he angrily swatted at Baby's hand as she attempted to snap in his face again. " I said I don't like that song so change it" "I don't give a flying dick what you like, I'm drivin' and we're leaving this song." She slumped back angrily onto the floor. Earning a chuckle from her father Spaulding. "S'not funny daddy" she snapped at him crossing her arms. "Oh lighten up there kiddo you know the rules, the driver picks the music". 

Spaulding had finally met up with both of them at the motel. Although it had taken him a while due to some personal delay he arrived there in the nick of time to help finish off torturing the poor victims. After killing the rest of the family the daughter of Roy and Gloria was left to wear her father's skin on her face and be hung up behind the door to scare the unfortunate housekeeper when coming to assess the room. unable to get her father's skin off and running in a frantic the daughter unknowingly ran into the highway to be hit by a semi-truck. Using the van they stole from them they attempted to meet you at the next stop. 

Otis only hoped they weren't too far behind you. Suddenly Baby perked up and glanced at the passing billboard." Just in case anyone's interested, I think I'm gonna be wanting some ice cream in about 10 miles" she excitedly looked back toward her father and then to Otis. Otis looked over at her and repeated her [in a mocking tone]  "I think I'm gonna be wanting some ice cream in about 10 miles." Baby looked back at home with an angry expression "Hey DON'T you fucking imitate me, it's fucking rude!"

Otis:" Fuck you", Baby: "Fuck you! "Two fucking seconds for the kid, is that gonna kill you?" Spaulding interjected getting real sick of the interaction between the two of them.

"Yes, it is going to kill me! I have calculated the time, and two seconds is the exact amount of time that is a hazard to my fucking health!" Otis replied visibly getting more and more annoyed with the idea of stopping. " What the fuck is your problem? I'm in and out in two seconds!" Baby snapped at him. 

   

Spaulding laughed a little "You know? I think I'm gonna get me some tutti fucking fruity." "Tutti fucking fruity, that sounds good!" Baby said nudging her father. "I'm glad that finding y/n doesn't mean shit to either of you now I know who is taking this seriously" he gripped his hands on the steering wheel in anger. These fucking idiots he thought to himself. " Wow excuse you…. How dare you imply I don't care about finding my BEST FRIEND. You know she meant the world to me before She meant the world to you, she was my best friend before she was your wife ok? I met her first… don't think because I'm not sulking like you I don't worry about her. But she's stronger than you give her credit for and you've been treating her like a child!!!". Otis didn't respond to her, he was getting madder by the second. He simply gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

 "I suggest we go see Charlie lay low there for a night before heading to the next motel," Spaulding said looking over at Otis. " Why the fuck would we do that?" Otis asked, slightly gripping the steering wheel even harder. Being away from you this long was not good for his mental health. It was throwing him off his game. It was making him anxious and nothing made him anxious. This was a very foreign and uncomfortable feeling to him. He wanted to get rid of it and to do that he had to find you. He only anticipated being away from you for maybe 12 hours and even the thought of that made him very uncomfortable. 

It's now been days this is unacceptable he needs to find you. "Look I saw on the news that the police are already on your tail. It's best that we throw off their scent a bit and lay low one more day can't hurt y/n is a smart girl she's gonna be alright". Otis didn't reply, he simply looked at the long stretch of road. Spalding continued, "I would hate to lead anyone to her Otis, Baby is right we care about her too but she's tough and smart I'm sure she's seen the news she will get the idea why we aren't there". "I don't trust that fucker Charlie" Otis finally replied with a sigh. Spaulding chuckled "yeah welp get over it". 

They drove through the rest of the afternoon only stopping for ice cream of course to prevent any distress from Baby and Spaulding. Pulling up to Charlie’s fun town, Otis’s annoyance grew more by the second. He hasn't been back here in years, he used to come on occasion to enjoy some of the girls here, but that quickly changed when you came around. He didn't like or trust Charlie, he had an inkling that this man was only out for himself no matter what Spaulding said. 

[joannie95]

Before You Go

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader platonic Steve Rogers x Reader platonic 

Summary:  Sometimes all you need is for someone to ask “are you okay?”

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Talk of depression and mental health, talk of death, angst 

A/N:I actually wrote something its some sort of miracle. seriously though im sorry for not updating legacy, work has gotten very stressful lately and that has been my main focus. Ill try to write more but I cant make any promises and I hope this story makes up for it.

A/N; This story was inspired by before you go by Lewis Capaldi. This story means a lot to me because at one point in my life I have had thoughts similar to the ones i wrote about. Thank you to @mo320 for proofreading 

Bucky's pov

"I hate her"

"No you don't."

"Yes I do. Why did she have to leave, why couldn't she just tell me what was wrong instead she decided to leave me."

"Bucky are you listening to yourself right now? You're making this about you, you're not mad that she left you're mad that you didn't see what was going on with her."

Maybe Steve had a point. She always seemed so happy and I was so preoccupied with what was happening in my life that I didn't see that she was hurting.

Y/N's pov

You looked at your reflection in the mirror and tried to compose and make yourself presentable for the day. You can feel that you're dying inside, you feel like you'd be a burden on your friends if they knew how you felt so all the hurt and all the pain is being pushed down for you to deal with on your own. You are brought back to reality when you hear a knock at the door, you wipe away the tears you didn't notice had fallen.

You walk to your front door but before opening it you put on your most believable smile. As soon as the door is open your best friend Bucky walks in with a bag of takeout in his hand. 

He places the bag on your coffee table and slumps down on your couch. "She was supposed to be the one, we could have been so happy together but instead I find her kissing some random guy."

You walk over to the couch and sit next to him, he lays his head on your lap and you run your fingers through his hair and chuckle. "Quit being dramatic, you went on 3 dates and she told you it wasn't serious. And that "random" guy was her ex, they broke up a month ago and we all knew they were bound to get back together once they got their heads out of their ass."

He sits back up and places his head on your shoulder as you lightly stroke his arm. "Yeah i know, it's nice to dream though."

You sit up and look at him. "Come on no moping, let's eat, get drunk and watch movies all night. What do you say?"

He laughs at your eagerness. "Alright fine." He picks up the remote and finds a movie. "you're always so happy and make everything better, how do you do it?"

A lot of practice you think to yourself. You smile and hope he believes this false front you're putting up.

You spent your day off at home, you tried so hard not to let your thoughts get to you. But once again you failed, you're a failure you couldn't even manage to get out of bed. What's the point of trying anymore if you'll never be good enough. The ringing next to you brings you back to reality, you see Bucky's name on the screen and answer hoping the cheery tone in your voice is enough to make him think you're fine. "Hey Buck, what's up? 

"Nothing much really, long day at work and I just want to forget it. I was wondering if you wanted to go out to a bar tonight." 

You hesitated, not really feeling up for human interaction at the moment. "I don't know, I'm kinda tired. I've been cleaning all day."

"Please y/n, it's been a long day and I just want to hangout with my best friend and have a fun night."

You don't want to but if you say no then maybe he'll find other friends that do want to go out and have fun. Then you'll be alone but maybe you deserve to be alone, maybe...

"Y/N. So what do you say?'

You let out a breath. "Yeah why not."

"Awesome you're the best. I'll pick you up in an hour."

You force yourself out of bed and make yourself presentable enough so you don't embarrass Bucky. 

You and Bucky have been at the bar for nearly an hour. The night started out well, you let him lead the conversation and kept a smile on your face but you're noticing his attention is elsewhere. "Bucky, did you hear me?"

"What?" He turns back to you quickly. "Yeah you were saying?"

"I asked if you're alright, you seem distracted."

He looked towards the other side of the bar before bringing his attention back to you. "I'll be right back."

Before you had time to object he was gone. You saw him walking towards a tall blond with bright green eyes. Of course, she was gorgeous and you were well, just you. He was probably embarrassed to be seen with you. You pulled your shoulders in wishing you were invisible.

About 15 minutes later Bucky came walking back with a big smile on his face. "Hey doll I hope it's alright but i'm gonna head out." He looked back at the girl a few feet behind him. "Will you be alright getting home?"

You tried not to look disappointed, you understood he'd rather spend time with anyone but you. Like second nature you put a smile on your face to hide the truth. "Of course, have fun. I'll talk to you later." 

"Thanks your the best." He kissed your forehead before quickly leaving with his new date. 

You turned back around in your seat and willed yourself not to cry. You paid your tab and wiped the tear that was about to fall before rushing out of the bar. You were so lost in your thoughts you didn't hear someone calling you till you felt a hand on your shoulder and you jumped in fear. You turned around and saw your friend Steve.

"Hey, I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I was calling you but you didn't hear me, are you okay? I saw Bucky leaving with someone before I had the chance to say hi."

"Yeah I'm fine, I was tired anyways just ready to head home."

"Okay." He noticed the look on your face. You were smiling but your eyes seemed so sad, it seemed familiar to him. "well let me at least walk you home, it's late and I'd feel better making sure you got home safe."

"You don't have to do that, I'm fine. You should go enjoy your Friday night." He's probably pitying you, you're nothing but a burden to him. 

"Please. I just want to make sure you're okay."

You nod and quietly continue walking home.

After some time Steve speaks up. "Recently, I have noticed some differences in you and wondered how you're doing."

You try and act calm. "I'm fine Steve, just a lot of work is all. Nothing you should worry about."

"That's the thing though I am worried. The way you've been acting is the same way my dad used to act. He tried to put up this tough front and act like he was fine but he wasn't. There were days when he just couldn't get out of bed, at the time I didn't understand what was wrong. He needed help but he didn't want to admit it."

You came to a stop in front of your apartment building. You wiped away the tears that were starting to form as Steve continued to speak. 

"You have the same look on your face as he did when you think you people aren't looking. I regret not asking him this, it's too late for him but not for you." Tears were forming in his eyes as he was reliving the memories of losing his dad. "I need you to tell me, are you okay and what can I do to help you?"

You started to shake your head, you didn't want to put your problems onto him. Steve had enough going on in his life, how dare you burden other people with your problems.

Almost as if he knew what you were thinking he pulled you into a tight hug. "I promise you are not a burden to me or any of your friends, we love you and we just want to help."

The dam broke and once you started crying you couldn't stop. "It hurts everyday Steve and it won't stop. I try my hardest to be strong but I can't do it anymore. I can't act like I'm okay when I'm dying inside. I hate myself and I hate that I'm causing you problems. I just, I feel worthless and I can't."

"You need help, it's the only way things will get better. You can't let this eat away at you till you can't take it anymore, we can't lose you. It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless."

Steve stays over that night, you talk and understand the best thing for you to do is move back home with your dad in Seattle and get the proper help you need. You call your dad and apologize for waking him up before explaining the situation, he's more than happy to welcome you back home. You and Steve spend the rest of the night making a plan. You'll take what's most necessary to Seattle and leave the rest in storage until you're ready, if you're ever ready to return to New York. 

You don't see or hear from Bucky again till a few days later. By then you're all packed up and ready to leave waiting for your cab to arrive. He pulls up to your building and sees you hugging Steve and suitcases by your side.

"Thank you for everything Steve, I didn't realize how much help I really needed if it weren't for you."

"Of course, I just want you to be okay. Don't be afraid to call me if you ever need to talk and I promise to visit." He turns around when he hears a car door close and sees Bucky walking towards the both of you. "I think i should get going now, call me when you land." With that said he walks towards his car and greets Bucky before driving off.

Bucky walks towards you confused about the situation. "Hey, what's going on? Are you going on a trip you didn't tell me about?"

"I'm going home to Seattle Bucky." Your grip tightens on your suitcase handle.

"To visit? How long are you going for?"

You let out a breath. "No, I'm not sure how long I'll be gone."

"Wait, what do you mean." He started to raise his voice at you. "Were  you just going to leave without telling me? How can you do this to me? We're supposed to be best friends."

"Yes we are supposed to be best friends so tell me why you never notice something was wrong. Bucky, if we were really best friends you would have noticed how depressed I am. I felt, I feel like I'm dying inside some days but you're so preoccupied with your love life you couldn't be bothered to notice. Look Bucky, I care about you and I want you to be happy but right now I need to focus on me and I can't do that here."

He started to cry once he knew the truth. "I'm sorry, i'm sorry I didn't notice but please don't leave me."

Your cab pulled up and it was time to leave, the driver took your bags and you asked him to give you a minute. You pulled Bucky to the side. "I'm sorry but I have to go now. I hope I can be well enough one-day to come back but for now I can't be here." You pull him into one last hug and kiss his forehead before letting go. 

Before you get into your cab with tears in his eyes he speaks up. "Before you go. Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?"

"Honestly, all you had to do was ask are you okay?" And with that you left, hopefully one day soon you'd be able to return as a better person in a better place. 

@agentmarvel13 @1v-kayla @5sos-wdw @a-dancing-hufflepuff @agent-barnes40 @agreatcheesecakestudentstuff @annoylinglyaries @antclottz @avngrsinitiative @bradfordsgreekgod @babypink224221 @captainam-erika-trash @carisi-sonny @caseymcflurry @chook007 @cosmiccomicloverqueen @daniellajocelyn @doctoranon @ecamille-xo @editsbyjenny @ellieababy @eternaleviee @futuremissstark @geeksareunique @gummiwormsandonedirection @henrietteoaks @hermionie-is-my-queen @imahoeforbucky @ineedmorefanfics @isabella-bby @jaemingold @jamessbarnnes @junitorials13 @katykyll @keenmarvellover @klanceiscannon14 @lady-sigyn @littlephoenix-fire @lovemarvelousfics @l0kisbitch @luckyfiction17 @ludwigvonbaethoven @maddie-laufeyson @magnificentsoulecollector @mikariell95 @mistressoftorture  @moli1497 @nanajaeminniee @orderoftheflamingflamingos @oxodianaoxo @paintballkid711 @pastelpurplexoox @peteyparkersbabyy @princessizzy36 @shallowshawn @sillydecoy @spodermanpete @starstruckgardenstudentzonk @stuckyandsciencebros @superhero2552 @thatharrypotterfan13 @thatweirdchick147 @the-ducks-umbrella @tienna-laufeyson16 @trustme3-13 @wishiwasanavenger @xalinx @yougottalovefandoms @zaza-jones @izzyisavengersupernaturaltrash @angstysebfan @rarelikesel

[itzagothamcitysiren]

There’s Only Us Left Now

Well, well, well, look who decided to come back to the land of the living. Lol, yeah I kinda just dissapeared for a couple of months. Honestly my mental health just wasn’t where it should be and I’m still trying to get better. This whole year has just been really really rough on me, like it has been on so many others. 

A week ago, my work got hit pretty bad with covid and I’m out with it for the time being. I’m feeling a little bit better than I was before and in my isolation I looked back to this story and actually felt the urge to write again.  

I can’t promise constant updates cause I’m just not sure how I’ll be feeling and how busy I’ll be once I’m back at work since we’re going to be short so many people now. But I can promise you that I had so much planned for this character and story and I really don’t want to just leave it where I left it. 

So if there’s still anyone out there who cares or wants to jump in, thanks for being here and taking time to read this <3

I Had a Dream I Was a Vigilante’s Side Kick pt. 5

           Halley had been tapping her fingers away mindlessly against her knee. It was pulled up to and held to her chest, kept in place by her other arm. Her other leg was stretch out, toes curling as her face scrunched up in discomfort. She bit the outside of her lip, dragging her teeth side to side against it as she tried to keep her mouth shut. She snapped her eyes closed as she felt Sam’s fingers drag through another section of hair. Her friend pulled on it, tugging it back and furthering her progress in the braid she formed on Halley’s head.

           “Ow.” Halley couldn’t hold it anymore. She’d felt far more intense pain before in her life but there was just something about the way Sam’s nail pulled the strands of hair. She repeated herself again as Sam pulled her head back again, “Ow.”

           “Oh please, you big baby.” Sam waved her off, coming to the end of the braid. She reached to the side, bringing Halley’s head with her. She stretched her hand out and grabbed the hair tie that sat on the side table near their bunk beds. Sam moved back in her seat on the bottom bunk and Halley’s place on the floor in front of her. She tied off the braid, patting Halley’s head when she was done. “See, all done.”

           “Do I have any hair left?” Halley joked, reaching up to pat her own head as well.

           “Ha, ha.” Sam faked a laugh as she stood up. Stepping over the brunette, she made her way to their shared closet. She began to rack through the clothes trying to find the best outfit for the night. She pulled out a dress and examined it before turning to look at Halley. “What are you wearing?” She asked, putting the dress back in the closet.

           Halley stood up, giving her foot a shake as it had fallen asleep from sitting on the floor. She shrugged, moving to grab the flannel from the desk chair. She tied it around her waist and then reached for Jason’s leather jacket. She motioned to her body.

           “Really? That’s it?” Sam rolled her eyes. She then pouted, “I just did your hair all nice.”

           “I’m not going to dress up.” Halley chuckled and moved to grab her combat boots.

           “But-,” The girl was cut off by a rapid knock on the door. She perked up, abandoning the closet and moving to the door. “That must be Dylan and the guys.” She said excitedly.

           Halley rolled her own eyes at the girl’s excitement. She was acting as if this was the first college party they were attending. Although Halley shouldn’t be that surprised, Sam got this way before every party they’ve ever attended together. She turned to grab her bag as her friend answered the door, waiting for their room to be barraged by their friends in seconds and her moment without any chaos to be over.

           “Hi gu-, erm, who are you?” Sam’s high pitched voice changed, deflating into a soft and questioning one.

           Halley picked her head up at Sam’s tone, feeling alert on instinct. She craned her head to see the doorway and frowned. Her eyebrows narrowed and her face harshened. She dropped her bag and marched to the door. Being a little harder than intended, Halley pushed Sam out of the way. Halley now stood face to face with someone she thought she’d never see again. There in front of her stood Tim Drake.

           “What the hell are you doing here?” She spat, glaring down at him.

           “I need your help!” He exclaimed, his voice echoing off the hallway walls.

           “I told you no. Now get out of here.” She barked back, gripping the door firmly and prepared to slam it shut.

           Tim stopped her, pushing back on the door with all his might.  He let out a gruff grunt as she fought back, only succeeding thanks to Halley’s friend distracting her by calling out her name in confusion. Tim pushed harder managing to shove the door open and making Halley stumble a few paces back. Once he made his past the threshold he closed the door behind him with both hands, letting out a deep breath as he did. He turned around and took in the appearance of both girls.

           Halley heaved her chest up and down in annoyance and frustration. Her hands were gripped into fists and hung on both sides of her body.  Her shoulders slumped forwards tensely as her big brown eyes narrowed into slits at him. Tim nervously gulped and looked at the other girl. She stared at him in confusion before turning to her friend and giving her the same look. She looked back to Tim, and then back to Halley, looking between them until finally being the knife to cut the tension.

           “So who’s you’re friend?” Sam’s voice sang out breaking the tension between the two. She motioned to Tim with her hand, placing the other behind her neck and rubbed it awkwardly.

           “He’s not a friend!” Halley snapped.

           “Look I just really need your help!” Tim snapped right back, the look on his face causing Halley to look at him seriously. She squinted at him as his face only showed worry. “Oswald Cobblepot has my dad and it’s all my fault.”

           Halley’s eyes widened. She looked back at Sam and wished she wasn’t here. She bit the inside of her cheek as she rushed to think of what to do. She knew this kid was trouble from the moment they met. She had hoped that she’d be done with him the moment she passed the information on to Bruce but now here she was. She swiped her arm out and pointed to the bed, ordering him to sit.

           “Explain.”

           And Tim did. He told her everything. He told her how he hacked into Cobblepot’s funds. And he told her how when he showed up to his home after school that he found the place trashed and his mother in tears because Cobblepot’s goons took his father. Once he let it all out he found himself needing to catch his breath. He looked up from Halley to Sam, both girls wearing different expressions.

           The dark skinned girl looked utterly lost and it was then when Tim realized that she was completely clueless about who Halley was. That was way she was so desperate to get him out of her hair. And that must’ve been why Halley was shooting him murderous daggers with her eyes. He shifted on the bed, hearing it creak as he moved. Neither he nor Halley made any attempt to speak next, causing Sam to be the only brave on in the room.

           “This is a job for the police. Halley, we need to call them. Or Dick. Sure, he’s not in Gotham but he can help.” She offered, unclear as to why this kid would go to her about this. She was still unclear about how he even knew Halley. He spoke as if he assumed she knew.

           “Were you followed?” Halley ignored Sam. If Tim’s mother was left with instructions to not go to the police then that meant not too. This was Gotham and Cobblepot probably already paid off the police to warn him if they got any calls in from the Drake’s.

           “No.” Tim responded just as a knock was heard from the dorm room’s door.

           “That must be the guys,” Sam noted, almost hesitant and shaky. It was apparent they wouldn’t be going to the party tonight. As she made her way to the door, she was stopped by a firm grip above her elbow. She looked down at the hand and followed it up to the owner’s face. Halley’s had loosened up a lot over the years but she was always quite serious compared to her friend but Sam had never seen her face so fixed before.  Halley tugged her back from the door stepping in front of her. Sam looked at her questioningly and almost fearfully. “Halley?”

           The girl remained silent, softly walking towards the door. The boys didn’t just knock. They would rap against the door with their fists, loudly announcing their arrival. You’d be able to hear them the next hall over with their brash and vulgar chatter. That was just one singular knock. She pressed her cheek to the door, pushing her ear against it to hear what was going on the on the other side.

‘Click’, ‘Click’, ‘Click’,

           “Hide!” She pushed Sam backwards towards the closet. She cursed just as the door was kicked open. She faced it just as quickly as she had turned away, kicking back at the door and slamming it back shut to give herself one more second.

           “Now!” she ordered them.

           As Sam stumbled backwards, the door was kicked open again, this time off its hinges and narrowly missing Halley. Tim’s eyes widened, unable to find a hiding spot in time and took cover underneath the nearby desk. He looked up as two men entered the room, guns in their hands, loaded and cocked. The first man locked eyes on him, aiming the gun.

           He never stood a chance. He was a Cobblepot goon and Halley could easily wipe the floor with them. As the gun was raised, Halley didn’t hesitate, jumping into action, ignoring the sudden sounds of shouts and calls for alarm out in the halls. Halley outstretched an arm, using it to push the gun up to point at the ceiling as it was shot. Using her other hand, she extended her hand, using the hard part of her palm to punch the man in the nose. She smirked at the long heard, yet familiar sound of bone cracking.

           With the hand holding the gun she tightened her grip and twisted, causing the man to cry out and his wrist to snap. She knew she was going to hard and she knew she’d have to think of a way to explain this but she was in hyper mood. She had to protect Sam and she had to protect Tim Drake.

           As the man was unable to grasp the gun, letting it drop to the floor, she maneuvered him around. Locking her left leg in between his and around one, she used the force and angle to drop him to the floor. She quickly dodged, as the second man finally caught up. He took a warning shot, but she was already ducked down. The window shattered as the bullet met the glass. Sam’s scream of shock and fear echoed off the walls alongside with it, causing Halley to reach for the first goon’s gun on the floor. She wasn’t taking anything chances.

           But the girl who wasn’t hesitant ended up hesitating. The cold metal felt heavy and not from the weight. She swore she’d never use one of these things again but here she was. As she took aim she saw her father and then worst of all she saw Jason flicker across her mind. Grunting she quickly shifted up the safety and rolled is across the room towards Tim.

           “Don’t use it! Don’t let anyone touch it!” She barked as she pushed herself up from her crouching position near the man she took down.

           She shifted to the side, avoiding another bullet that now lodged itself into the floor. She did feel one graze her arm but she ignored it. It was as if she pounced on the man, easily disarming him and bashing he head against the doorframe and affectively knocking him out. She huffed, hearing the common of students panicking out in the dormitory halls and then the distant sound of police sirens.  

           Her head whipped around at the sound of the first man getting up and making his way towards Tim and the gun. Sam let out a warning cry, gripping onto clothes hanging up around her for comfort. It was then when Halley noticed she was crying and when she noticed Tim frozen in his place. She rushed over, picking up the chair her flannel had been resting on only minutes ago. She cried out as she brought down the chair onto the goon, mashing it and leaving him in the same state as his companion.

           She was breathing heavily, looking down at the man as she tried to collect herself. She looked up as the sound of sirens got louder. Fuck, she thought. She couldn’t trust the police. And she couldn’t waist time trying to think of a way to explain this. She grabbed Tim forcefully and ripped the gun out of his hand before placing it in her jacket’s pocket, glad that it were big enough to conceal the gun. With Tim standing she pushed him towards the door before making her way to Sam, a tad bit more gently. The girl was clearly in shock but now was the time for Halley to coddle.  

           “I need you to breathe for me okay?” She said, making a gesture mimicking a breathing technique her father once taught her. Sam tried, but failed but it was good enough for Halley at the moment. She guided her out of the closet and towards Tim. She reached for her phone as well as her keys and wallet, shoving them in her free pocket. She turned back to Sam, placing a hand on the small of her back before grabbing her hand. “Don’t ask any questions, don’t speak; we need to get out of here, got it?”

           Sam’s lips trembled as they stepped over the man still resting in between the threshold. Tim kept up pace, nodding along with Halley’s instructions. The former assassin and sidekick led them out into the hallway, noting how it’d been pretty much evacuated already. The cops would most likely take the main stairs and elevators, not knowing what Halley was capable and she knew for a fact that the cops showing up would be bought and payed for by Cobblepot. They got here way to quick, they knew what was going to happen. She headed down the back stairwell, the one used for janitorial staff and emergencies, knowing that that would be the safest bet.

           “Let’s go.”

[flowerspecial]

Enemy To Lover - High School Edition - Part 2

JB

Obviously your friends would be sick and tired of the constant bickering between you two. Like seriously, you have spent so many years together, why can't you two just be freaking civil? It was one of your mutual friend’s birthdays, and you all decided that the best idea would be to throw an amazing surprise birthday party. You all assigned each other roles and tasks that you needed to do. Unfortunately, neither you nor JB could attend the designation of tasks, so you two ended up stuck together. Neither of you two were happy with this arrangement, and you were not afraid to let your feelings be apparent. But you knew that this wasn't about you, and you needed to suck it up for the sake of your friend. You would pick JB up from his house at the weekend. Annoyingly, you two also had the most difficult job, getting the food and alcohol for the party. Well you two had to walk around a supermarket deciding what food was best. “What about this? Everyone will love this.” “I don't like that.” “What the hell is your problem JB? Seriously, I get that we are different, but bloody hell you don't have to be in a sulk every time that you see me.” You would storm off away from him, leaving him stranded in the supermarket. There is just no need for toxic friendships like this. The next time that you saw JB was at the party. You noticed that he kept looking at you, but honestly you didn't let yourself dwell on it too much. You wanted to enjoy this party just as much as everyone else. However, JB managed to corner you in the kitchen while you were getting a drink. “We need to talk.” “JB, I really can't be bothered to talk to you right now. Let's just leave it okay? I get that we will never be friends, let's move on.” “I want to try and be friends.” “Why? Because you feel sorry for me? Or that you feel guilty that I stormed off the other day?” “Well yes, it might be some of that. But you know what they say, opposites attract.”

Mark

Sitting next to Mark wasn't all that bad, like his reputation told you, he generally preferred to stay to himself. Because you two kinda hated each other, it did mean that he wasn't willing to try and talk to you or anything. He would just have his head on his desk and go to sleep for the hour. “You know, if you actually listened in class, you might do better in the tests.” You would say to him. “Yeah, and if you actually focused on the work, instead of on me, you would also do better in the tests.” “If you two have not quite finished your conversation, you can finish tonight, in detention!” Your teacher would shout at the two of you. You had never had detention before, so you glared at the back of Mark’s head so ferociously, that if looks could kill, he would be a goner. After school finished, you would walk into the detention room to see Mark already sat there. You chose the seat in front of him, praying that you might actually get some of your school work done in the hour. It is not long before the detention supervisor leaves the room. “So why exactly do you hate me?” Mark asks you abruptly. “I don't hate you.” You try to argue back. “Well you could have fooled me, what have I ever done to annoy you?” “You misbehave in class, and you flirt with every person going. You don't care about your education or anyone else’s around you.” “When have I misbehaved in class? I fall asleep, yeah okay I do that. But I have never directly disrupted a class. As for the flirting, all I do is talk to people. It's not my fault that people in this school have spread so many rumours about me that no one actually knows the truth from the myth.” You just looked at him, shocked with his sudden outburst. “I was actually looking forward to sitting with you, I thought that you could help me. But if I bother you that much, I will ask the teacher to move me tomorrow.” With that, Mark walked out of detention.

Jackson

Honestly, prom is meant to be a fun time with your friends, but truly this was your idea of hell. After everyone had been assigned their dates, you all found a day when everyone was free and decided to go prom shopping. All of the couples were keen to take in each other’s opinions about what you should both wear. You and Jackson however, could not care less about what the other person is wearing. Therefore you looked around the shop by yourself and chose a dress that you thought was perfect for you.  “Of course you are going to choose the sparkliest dress in here. God forbid if anyone else gets attention just for a second.” Jackson rolled his eyes as you walked out in your dress. “That's rich coming from you! You know it isn't a contest to see who can wear the most designers?” You sneered back at him. The constant bickering between you two was starting to wear thin on you, and somewhere along this process Jackson’s comments had gotten slightly harsher than ever before. “Just because you can't afford to wear the clothes that I can! Jealous much?” Wow, now that one really struck a nerve in you. “Fuck you Jackson! I don't need to take this kind of abuse from someone who I have no intention of ever speaking once I leave school. If you really don't like the way I dress, or the way I act, then fine. You win” You got dressed as quickly as you could, and left the changing rooms with the sparkly dress still hanging in the room. Jackson was waiting for you outside the changing rooms and he ran after you when you stormed off. “Wait, what do you mean I win?” Jackson grabbed your wrist to turn you towards him. “It means that you win Jackson. I don't want to play this game anymore. I can't spend my days with someone who constantly makes me feel like I’m mud on the sole of someone’s shoe. I’m not going to prom, find someone else to go with you.”

Jinyoung

If anyone asked you, you would not be able to tell them the last time you had been outside or taken a break from studying. These months were crucial for you to be able to get out of this town, and there was nothing that you were not willing to do in order to succeed. If you thought that you were hard on yourself before, boy were you kidding yourself. A mixture between wanting to succeed and immountable stress hung over you so much that you felt guilty when you didn't revise. You knew this was not a healthy way to live, heck you are doing AP Psychology for crying out loud, and your mental health was starting to deteriorate. It was one of those days when you did not have any extra curricular after school, so you decided to spend your evening studying in the library. You always preferred to sit in the corner of a library, as you didn't want to be disturbed by anything or anyone. You have felt on edge for some time, and will the university exams coming up in the next week, you were struggling to hold yourself together. As you attempted to complete a timed exam paper, there was a question that you were stuck on. In the grand scheme of things, that one question should not have bothered you so much. One question not understood in an entire exam paper is something to be proud of. However, your brain was fixated on that one question, and so you pushed out of your chair to try and find a book that could explain the answer. Your heart was fluttering so uncomfortably, and your breathing was ragged. You fell to the ground of the library in a slump and you struggled to focus on something. You felt someone try to position you so your head was between your knees. “Focus on your breathing okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth.” When you calmed down, you looked up to see who the person was that was helping you, and you were surprised to see Jinyoung sitting next to you. “You are the smartest person I know. Don't give yourself such a hard time.”

Youngjae

From the word go, you wanted to set ground rules for Youngjae. “Right, I actually need to do well in this presentation, I need to stabilise my grade. So I couldn't care less if you don't want to work with me, we are going to work together and we are going to do well. Okay?” You said to him as you sat down in your new seating position. “Who said I didn't want to work with you?” Youngjae asked, genuinely confused at your outburst. You look at him incredulously and ignore his question. For the rest of the lesson, you work in near silence, the only time you spoke was to tell Youngjae what tasks you were giving him and how long he had to do them. “I need you to have this done by the day after tomorrow at the latest. Here is my email, just send it to me when you have finished it. If you have any questions, ask someone else.” Before Youngjae could say anything, you gathered your belongings and walked out of the classroom. Not to sound cliche, but you always hated lunch time. Although you chose to be on your own, it was still never nice when it was made so apparent to you. In order to combat the twang of loneliness, you always played music through your headphones and did whatever homework was set. You looked around the lunch hall and someone caught your eyes. Youngjae was at the other side of the hall, with his friends. When he saw you he smiled and waved at you, earning his friends to turn around to see who he was looking at. You didn't think matters could get any worse, but Youngjae had decided to walk over to you and sit down opposite you. “Hey, why are you sitting on your own?” “Because I don't have anyone to sit with.” “Well… it's a good thing that I came then isn't it?” You couldn't work out if Youngjae was actually quite sweet, or so oblivious it was painful. It was clear he didn't notice the stares that he was getting by sitting next to you. Well, until one of the popular people stood behind him. “You don't wanna sit here Youngjae, you might catch something.”

Bambam

You were walking through the dining hall one lunch time, trying to find somewhere to eat. But because you weren't looking where you were going, you crashed into someone, spilling your food on them. “Are you actually kidding me? Do you know how much this shirt costs?” You didn't even need to look up to know who was speaking to you. Bambam was towering over you with steam coming out of his ears. “I am so sorry, I will pay you back! I can get it dry cleaned! Or I can get you a new one? How much is it?” “Oh yeah, like you can afford to get him a new shirt!” One of the girls behind Bambam sneered. “Yeah, aren't you the scholarship kid? You couldn't even afford to get in here, why would you be able to pay for his shirt?” You were fighting so hard to not let the tears fall that were pooling in your eyes. “I am really sorry, please just tell me how much it was and I will pay you back!” “It was $800, can you afford that?” The same girl as before piped up. “Yes, I will get the money!” Bambam had stayed silent throughout the entirety of his conversation, showing you that he clearly wasn't on your side. Before you embarrassed yourself further, you walked away from the group. You were determined to save up enough money to pay Bambam back, and you were not going to stop until you did. School became a living hell, Bambam’s group became your own personal group of tormentors, determined to show you that you don't belong at their school. You made sure to do longer shifts after school and during the weekends, meaning that on average you got about 4 hours of sleep. Life was not ideal for you, but you were determined to make it work. It took around a month for you to gather the money you owed Bambam. You saw him sitting with his friends in the dining hall, and you walked over to and slammed the money onto the table. “Here is the money that I owe you, now please, just leave me alone.”

Yugyeom

“I didn't know that you could play.” Yugyeom states very matter of factly. Seeing him walking towards you was making your heart rate begin to increase. “Oh I can't really, sorry I will get going now.” You gathered all of your belongings from the side of the piano and you tried to stand up from the seat. However, Yugyeom was too quick for you and pushed you back down. “Can you teach me how to do that?” “Why should I teach you?” “Why wouldn't you?” Yugyeom’s blatant disregard for his actions was making your blood boil. “Why should I help someone that has made my life here at school a living hell? Why should I help someone that when I see in the hallway, I will walk outside just to avoid. Why should I help someone who genuinely makes it his personal mission to destroy? “Look, it's not that big of a deal. The stuff that we do, it's just a joke!” “And the fact that you genuinely think that is what makes it worst of all.” This time, you managed to successfully climb out of the seat, and you stormed out of the room. A couple of days had passed, and Yugyeom was nowhere to be seen. You had expected that the tormenting would actually get worse, you practically gave him the green light after shouting at him the other day. But no, you hadn't seen him around school, and neither had any of his friends. You had a free period before lunch, which meant that you were able to spend longer than usual in the music room, which always put a smile on yourself. However, when you arrived, the lights were already on and you could hear someone playing on the piano. You peeped your head around the door to see the MIA boy sitting in the same spot which he was sat in a couple of days ago. You stood at the door for a few minutes, listening to Yugyeom playing the same section over and over again. “You know you have the wrong chord, right?” You asked him, causing Yugyeom to whip his head around to look at you. “I’m trying to do it from memory, I knew it sounded wrong but I didn't know why.”

[bloodfromthethorn]

Suddenly Worse

For the first time in what has to have been months, Mac and Jack are both walking away from a mission unharmed. That's got to be worth celebrating.

Part ten of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge.

Also on AO3. 

..

“Jack, I’m fine. Stop fussing.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who thought it would be a good idea to fall out of a moving car. You do stupid shit like that, you’re gonna have to put up with me checking you over.”

Mac rolled his eyes, batting away the hand that was coming up to feel the temperature of his forehead yet again. “You did check me over. Twice. And I didn’t even complain about it so honestly, I think I’ve done my time.”

His partner huffed, unsatisfied but momentarily diverted. “What are you talking about? You bitched the whole time.”

“Well, yeah, but if I hadn’t you’d have thought something was wrong.”

That was… not untrue. Jack scowled at him. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so pushy if you’d just tell me when there’s something I need to worry about.”

Despite the seriousness in his partner’s eyes, Mac couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “I do! The only reason you think I don’t is because you imagine I’m always half a step away from death’s door when the worst I’ve got going on is a cold.”

“Yeah? You sure about that?”

Mac squinted at him, trying to work out if he’d just fallen into a trap before a memory suddenly struck him like lightning. “Tallinn doesn’t count.”

“Tallinn one hundred percent counts!”

“There were extenuating circumstances. And I was fine in the end, so it didn’t matter.”

“You got shot!”

“It was a graze, and barely that. Even Nikki said you were being overprotective.”

It was Jack’s turn to roll his eyes. “Nikki always took your side, that doesn’t count.”

“But I was fine though. Remember? Don’t even have a scar anymore. You nearly got yourself killed because you were too busy worrying about me, and there was no need for it.”

Jack had a return shot already lined up, but something in Mac’s eyes had gone soft and sad, and Jack had never been able to stand up to that. For all he made a big deal of worrying about Mac’s safety, it was a two-way street and Jack could admit he wasn’t always as careful with his own life as his partner would like him to be. Typically, they kept each other in line, but they both had moments when they faltered.

“Yeah, okay, I might have gone a little overboard that time,” he admitted gently, “But my point stands. You got shot and you didn’t think it worth mentioning! You’ve gotta forgive me if I don’t entirely take your word for it when you say you’re fine.”

“Which is why I let you check me over,” Mac agreed placidly, “And you saw that the worse injury I have is an incredibly minor bruise on my shoulder. I promise you Jack, I’m alright.”

The words seemed to be what Jack needed to finally be mollified, because he backed off from where he’d been crowding Mac into his own sofa and, with a final measuring look, headed for the fridge. He still didn’t look happy about it, but at least Mac could relax back without feeling like he was under a microscope for the first time in several hours.

It also, conveniently, gave him the perfect opportunity to keep a keen eye on Jack as he pottered about the kitchen. It felt a little hypocritical, given how long he’d just spent getting on at Jack for hovering, but in Mac’s defence, he hadn’t had the chance to check his partner for injuries and he wasn’t wholly convinced something hadn’t happened that he didn’t know about. Jack looked and was acting completely normal, but there’d been a solid ten minutes after Mac had fallen out of the car when they were separated, and he wanted to be certain he hadn’t missed anything important. Besides, for all Jack gave him shit about not owning up to injuries, he was a thousand times worse.

“I can feel you watching me hoss. See something you like?”

Mac pulled a face. “Gross.”

His partner turned to shoot him a dry look. How he’d known Mac was watching when he wasn’t even looking in his direction was beyond him. “I thought you just got done telling me I worry too much.”

“You do.”

“Mhmm. And what exactly would you call this, slick?”

A pause. “Reasonable expression of concern?”

Jack snorted. “Sure it is.”

“I didn’t see what happened after we got split up. Matty said something about a car crash.” He let a sliver of accusation slide into his tone.

“’After we got split up,’” he repeated mockingly. “You mean ‘after you fell out of a moving car’, and I’m pretty sure that disqualifies you from making judgements about my health right now.”

“Jack.” His voice was plaintive.

Jack crumbled like a house of cards. “I’m fine, Mac. Promise. There was a minor car crash that I may or may not have been involved in, but I was wearing my belt and we weren’t even going fast by that point. I walked away without a scratch.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Mac eyed him critically, so Jack stepped out from behind the counter and spread his arms, letting Mac look. In his defence, he really did seem okay, but for a slight scuff at his hairline that was so minor neither of them even slightly bothered to acknowledge it. After a long moment, Mac felt himself nodding slowly. “Okay.”

Jack shot him a wry grin. “Told you.” He returned to the couch with a beer in either hand, offering one to his friend before cracking open his own and taking a long, relieved swig. “Ahh, it feels good to be home.”

..

Even with the rare phenomenon of arriving home uninjured, the pair of them were both too tired to get up to much more than vegging out on the couch with a few beers and a movie. It was nice all the same, just relaxing and chatting amiably. They’d both been on the go pretty much constantly for weeks, so it was a relief to just kick back and relax.

Somewhat guiltily, Mac was also quietly pleased that they got to have this time as just the two of them; he’d loved Bozer like a brother since he was a kid and Riley had become his family just as much as everyone else in a scarily short amount of time, but there was a certain amount of nostalgia in hanging out just with Jack. It had been just the two of them in the Sandbox and while he wasn’t exactly fond of his memories of the desert, it had been the setting for forging one of the most meaningful relationships of his life. Spending the night as just the two of them was oddly comforting.

As the hour grew later, their conversation started trailing off slowly, weariness tugging them down. Jack in particular seemed to be having tremendous trouble keeping his eyes open.

“It’s 'cause you’re getting old,” Mac told him with a snort. He got a swat on the arm for his trouble.

“’Old’, he says. I’ll show you old the next time we spar.”

Mac frowned softly; there was the slightest slur in Jack’s voice and they hadn’t had nearly enough beer for that. It could be fatigue, obviously, but a feeling he tended to think of as instinct picked up its head and started taking notice.

“Hey, Jack, you feeling okay?”

“Mmm?” Jack blinked at him lazily. “Yeah? We’ve been over this.”

His own tiredness fading away as his adrenaline spiked, Mac sat up to properly look him over. Dull, glazed eyes tracked his movement. “You sure about that? You’re not looking so good.”

He wasn’t – he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and his skin looked abnormally pale under the dim lamplight. Mac hadn’t noticed in the gloom, but now that he was properly paying attention, Jack was really starting to look awful. On instinct he snatched at Jack’s wrist, wincing at the beat racing beneath his fingertips.

“Mac,” Jack protested faintly, “’M fine. Stop worryin’.”

It was possibly the least convincing lie Mac had ever heard. His mind raced over the possibilities: lethargy, sweaty skin, and a rapid pulse weren’t exactly unique symptoms. Flicking on another lamp to give himself more light to work with, he pinched the tip of one of Jack’s fingers and watched as the colour slowly returned to it.

“Well,” he said as lightly as he could, “We can add low blood pressure to the mix.”

“Low w-ah?” Jack’s eyes were almost completely closed. Looking at him now, slumped into the cushions and so pale it was frightening, Mac couldn’t understand how he had ever thought the man was just tired. He was supposed to be his goddamn partner and he hadn’t seen this when Jack was two feet in front of him?

But there would be time for recriminations later. Right now, he needed to get Jack help and he needed to do it now.

“Hey, Jack, stay with me, okay? Can you stay awake?”

“’M tired Mac.”

“I know you are big guy, but I need you to talk to me, alright?”

“’Bout what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Mmkay.” Nothing else followed after, and Mac’s heart sank right through the base of his stomach and kept going. He snatched his phone of the coffee table and dialled the Phoenix’s medical emergency SOS number. That should bring a paramedic crew running.

Lethargy, sweaty skin, pale, increased pulse, low blood pressure… He mentally worked his way through a first aid manual, but there were too many things those symptoms applied to. Okay, well then – if symptoms weren’t enough, what about circumstance? Jack had been fine earlier and all he’d done since then was drink a few beers. That left poisoning as an option, but the beers had been sealed and Mac felt fine, so it didn’t feel likely; a better option was probably a delayed onset of symptoms.

Jack had been in a fistfight that morning but he’d walked away with grazed knuckles and nothing else – Mac had been sure to check him over immediately after, so he was sure on that count. That left the car accident that he clearly hadn’t asked enough questions about.

“Jack? You still awake?” There was a faint hum in response. “Can you tell me if you’re in pain? Does your stomach hurt?”

He was pulling up Jack’s t-shirt before he got a response, noting the expected bruising over his shoulder from the seatbelt, right alongside the telltale bruising around his navel he’d prayed he wouldn’t see.

“Mm,” Jack agreed faintly. “Itches.”

“Shit,” Mac cursed sharply, wishing he’d had the sense to press Jack for a more thorough answer when he’d asked him about the car crash. Instead, he’d taken his word for it and then spent several hours sitting on a couch beside a man slowly bleeding to death. Way to fucking go. “Okay Jack, I think you’re bleeding internally. I’m going to get you to a hospital, but I need you to stay awake. C’mon man, don’t leave me hanging.”

The phone he’d dropped back onto the table started buzzing sharply, Matty’s face staring up at him. He batted at the answer button with one hand, carefully feeling for Jack’s pulse again with the other.

“Why has an emergency call just gone up from your house Blondie?” She was evidently trying to sound annoyed at the late-night interruption, but the worry in her voice was plain to anyone who knew her.

“Matty, it’s Jack. Something’s wrong – I think it’s internal bleeding. He’s got all the symptoms of someone going into shock and if I’m right, he’s been bleeding for hours. I need an ambulance here right now.”

Even barely conscious, Jack seemed to stir to life at the audible distress in Mac’s voice because he blinked at him, flopping a limp hand to grip at Mac’s wrist weakly. Mac felt a little bit like crying.

“One’s on its way,” Matty reported sharply, falling into her usual role of command. “I’ll get our techs to clear the roads for you as best they can, should give you a clear run to Cedars. ETA four minutes.”

“Thanks Matty.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Hanging in there,” he said with more hope than he really felt. Jack was still semi-conscious, but he’d deteriorated from talking normally and drinking a beer to a slurring, barely responsive mess inside of half an hour and Mac had no idea how long Jack could keep this up. For all his head was full of medical knowledge and equations and anatomy diagrams, none of that would do him the slightest bit of good when it came to trying to stem internal bleeding. The best he could do was delay things for a little while. “Okay Jack,” he murmured, mostly to himself, “We need to get you lying down. This might hurt big guy. I’m sorry.”

From the groan Jack let loose when Mac carefully pulled him down to lie flat on the sofa, it did more than just hurt, but there was nothing to be done about it. He’d already lost far too much blood and keeping him upright was just making it harder for his brain to get what it needed. As soon as he was settled, Mac grabbed the free cushions and jammed them under Jack’s feet.

“Mac?” Matty’s voice felt tinny and far away.

“Yeah, still here,” he said, unnecessarily. “Just, uh. Just getting him lying down and elevating his legs. Make things easier on his heart and conserve blood flow for his vital organs.”

She let out a sound that might have been a laugh if there had been any amusement in it. “I’ve done first aid too Blondie. I trust you. I’m asking if you’re okay.”

He paused fractionally to frown at the phone. “What? I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

Her words tickled something in the back of his head and he froze for a moment to take stock of himself. He was breathing heavily, he noted in surprise, and his body was shuddering with very fine tremors. His hands were as steady as they always were, but it dawned on him that that was only because it was a practiced response to stress, something he’d conditioned himself for and had to actively control. With everything else going on in his head, he hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it.

Panic, he realised suddenly. He was panicking.

He sucked in a sharp, forceful breath, and held it. Matty was right: he was not fine.

“What’s the ETA on that ambulance?” He asked instead of admitting to it. Now that he was listening, he could hear the slight catch in his voice.

“One minute.”

“Okay. We can manage that.”

“It’s going to be okay Mac. I’ve made sure the paramedics know what to expect, and they’ve been brought up to date on his medical history and condition. I just need you to keep it together for me.”

He nodded, then belatedly realised she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, I’m here.”

“I know you are.” She sounded like she was smiling. “There’s no one else in the world who could take better care of Jack than you can. Just hang in there.”

Now was probably not the time to tell her just how badly he’d failed in his job to keep an eye on Jack. That conversation could come later, once he was sure that Jack was going to be okay and he’d been able to speak with the man himself. He was the one owed an apology, after all.

Instead, he just muttered an agreement and waited with bated breath for the medics to arrive.

..

Jack stirred to the depressingly familiar burning under his skin that meant he’d had a blood transfusion in the very recent past. Mac had always scoffed at him when he’d said he could feel it, like an imposter in his veins, but it was the god’s honest truth and he recognised it now. Which was kind of strange, considering the last thing he could remember was hanging out on Mac’s sofa with a beer and absolutely no cares in the world. If he couldn’t remember an injury, then maybe something had happened…

Maybe Mac was in trouble.

A hefty dose of adrenaline was dumped directly into his bloodstream with the thought, and his eyes popped open. The light seared his retinas something fierce, but that wasn’t as important as finding out where his partner was and making sure that he was okay.

Fortunately, a series of rapid blinks immediately revealed the solution. Mac was sitting beside him, folded uncomfortably into a too-small hospital chair with his head propped up on his fist as he dozed. He looked- well, awful, honestly, but unhurt. The fluorescent overhead lights washed out his already pale skin and the bags under his eyes were dark enough to look like bruises. Even in sleep, his forehead was creased with worry.

“Mac?” He called softly, not really wanting to disturb his sleep since he so clearly needed it but also knowing that if he slept like that he’d regret it in the morning.

His partner jolted awake in an instant, casting about wildly until his eyes landed on Jack. Visible relief washed over him. “Hey big guy,” he said equally quietly. “You feeling okay?”

Jack pointed with his eyes to the IV at the crook of his elbow. “Transfusion?”

“Yeah.” Mac sighed heavily, running a hand over his face in a futile attempt at waking himself up. “Turns out that you didn’t walk away from that car crash as unscathed as you thought you did.”

That… didn’t make sense. He frowned until Mac elaborated.

“You tore your spleen. Not much, just a little nick really, but it bled pretty heavily. You went into shock.”

Jack digested that slowly, suddenly recognising the deep, blunted ache in his abdomen that he had come to associate with surgery. Mac’s story made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was missing a whole load of steps, particularly given the haunted look lingering in his partner’s eyes. He’d evidently missed something important while he’d been out.

“You okay?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, Jack. I’m fine. You’re the one who just got out of surgery.” He paused, then added as an afterthought, “You still have a spleen by the way. The damage was minor enough they were able to patch it without going to the hassle of a splenectomy.”

“Didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, I did. I’m not hurt, remember? We went over this.” He looked faintly annoyed, and Jack had a sneaky feeling that it wasn’t aimed at him.

A lot of things came together in Jack’s head very quickly. He’d always been good at figuring out what was going on in the kid’s head, even when he didn’t understand it in the slightest. “Hey. It wasn’t your fault man. You hear me? Whatever you’re blaming yourself for right now? Wasn’t your fault.”

Mac’s eyes darted away, his hands coming together to pick at his cuticles. Gotcha.

A sniper to the core, Jack just waited him out. Mac had never been very good at long silences. “I should have noticed something was up. You were bleeding – dying – and I was just sitting right there not doing anything about it. I didn’t even realise something was wrong until you went into shock.”

“I didn’t notice anything either,” he pointed out calmly. It was true; he’d felt a little nauseous and tired, but he’d put both down to needing a good night’s rest. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Mac he thought he was good.

“You were going into shock. You were barely conscious.”

“Hey, I was conscious plenty. It was, what? Six hours between that crash and me going cross-eyed? In all that time, I didn’t feel a thing.”

“You wouldn’t have done,” Mac said quietly, falling back on his usual need to explain. “The blood pooled in your abdomen. It’s a mild irritant but otherwise, you wouldn’t know it was there unless you specifically went looking for it. I should have been looking for it.”

“You were, remember? I’m the one who told you I was fine.”

“And I shouldn’t have listened!” It was the first time his voice slipped from the quiet control he’d evidently been clinging to, and suddenly Jack could see desperation and guilt staring back at him. “If it had been me, you wouldn’t have listened. You didn’t listen – you insisted on checking me over to make sure that I was okay even when I told you I was. But I just took your word for it and then didn’t pay enough attention until you were half-dead!”

“Mac. Listen to me.” He kept his voice low and level, praying that his partner would hear his sincerity. “This was not your fault. You didn’t notice anything was wrong because I told you it wasn’t and you trusted me. That’s not a failing. And besides, I’m guessing I’m only here now because you figured it out in time to get me to help. You didn’t fail me Mac, you saved me.”

“I-” He faltered, his eyes reddening as too many emotions crowded in at once. “It was so close Jack.”

And no doubt it had been made worse by the otherwise innocuous setting it had taken place in. His heart went out to him. “I know man. I’m sorry for that. Really. But you can’t blame yourself. Promise me, man.”

Mac looked at him for a long time, a single tear escaping his iron grip to run down his cheek. He brushed it away angrily, fighting to get himself under control. Jack let him work through it in silence, attuned to every shift and expression. Eventually, the storm clouds on Mac’s brow started to recede, leaving behind an exhausted and guilty, but balanced, partner behind. It wasn’t perfect, and they’d definitely be having this conversation again, but it was a kind of peace and that would have to be enough for now.

“The next time you get in a car accident I’m taking you to a hospital,” he said firmly.

Jack snorted, then winced. “Okay. Deal. Just the once though.”

“Not a chance.”

“C’mon man, I’m fine! Look at me, never been better.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“Your face is funny.”

“Oh wow. MIT brain and you came up with that zinger. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

“Hey, now, cut me some slack. Some of us haven’t spent the last five hours getting in our beauty sleep.”

“Evidently.”

“Hey.”

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Tour Mom Chapter 2

A/N: Alright I’m having fun with this so I’ll just continue it. My MCR fic isn’t as good as my other ones, but I’m assuming it’s because I’ve never worked with this set of characters before. It may get better over time. Hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Gerard with a little MCR x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2041

You were extremely proud of Gerard. Post-Black Parade the guys took a break. They wanted to figure out how to redefine the band, moving away from the “traditional” MCR, that being Three Cheers and TBP.

You of course, helped Gerard. Just like your helped the boys with their first three albums. It wasn’t much, but altering some lyrics here and there to make their songs more elaborate and more descriptive. 

They had already written and recorded a few songs in the process of establishing the storyline of the Killjoys, which Gerard pitched to you during the last tour. Everyone jumped on board, besides Bob. So he left.

Additionally, in your personal life, you and Gerard were expecting. By that, of course, meant you were pregnant. To be honest, it wasn’t planned at all. You and Gerard had talked about kids in the past. Never too seriously, but enough to know you wanted at least one in the future. The timing wasn’t on point for the expansion of your family, but you two happily accepted it.

And then there came the fact that you weren’t married. While Gerard’s family didn’t mind it, your family kind of did. With your parents having divorced when you were younger, they of course had drastically different views. Your dad had always really like Gerard, and was more than happy for you two, understanding that marriage was something you wanted to do on your own schedule. Your mother on the other hand, was “disturbed” by it. While you didn’t totally care, a part of you was crushed by this.

But of course, Gerard helped guide you through it, reassuring your own little family would be just fine, whether or not your mother necessarily approved of it all. This brought you peace of mind of course.

Gerard also bought you two promise rings. It was almost like an engagement, just something saying he promised he would love you for everyday until you two officially got married and renewed those vows officially. And you of course promised the same.

What was most concerning was the potential for your depression to come back during and after the pregnancy. Your therapist and psychologist had some worries, as well as how your antidepressants would affect your pregnancy, and the potential of your hormones changing too much.

“I don’t know, Gee.” You sighed as you two discussed what to do with it all, “I don’t want to risk the baby, but I don’t want to risk myself.” He nodded.

“You’ve made so much progress,” He grabbed your hand, “It’s really up to you.” “Yeah, but it’s our child.” He nodded.

“Maybe continue on them,” He told you, making eye contact of course, “And please, talk to me about how you feel. If you’re not doing well you need to tell me, okay?” You nodded. You and Gerard were always extremely open about your mental health to one another, so of course you would tell him.

And that led to a long and turbulent pregnancy. You were glad the band had taken a break to be honest, that way every day Gerard could be at home with you. Of course he took the occasional day to go in and record, or to have a meeting, but most of the time we he was with you.

Everyday it got increasingly harder to do things like make your way up the stairs, clean up, even making dinner which was usually one of your favorite activities but became a burden as the bump grew. Gerard was empathetic as always though, helping you with every task he could. Not being too touchy or too obsessive, but just when you needed it.

“I got you,” He told you as he helped to swing your legs onto the bed. The third trimester was by far the hardest. The bump was large, and managed to grow even bigger everyday.

“Yeah,” You huffed, “I know.” You finally sighed in relief as you laid on the large king bed, getting under the covers and in a semi-comfortable position before you would have to switch again in another hour or so.

“You alright?” He would ask every night before the two of you feel asleep.

“As good as I can be for a pregnant woman.” You would answer. He would just lightly smiled, “I just want her to pop out already.” He nodded.

“I love you.” He said, rolling over to face the other side of the bed.

“Love you too.”

And flash forward just a few weeks, you sat painfully in the delivery room after your water broke while making lunch, Gerard by your side, unless you began violently cursing him out for putting you in your current situation, in which he would walk away for a few minutes, usually out of the room to give you breathing space.

Thankfully as well, your childhood best friend was there to assist when Gerard took his break. Y/B/F/N would sit next to you, holding your hand as your painful contractions came and wouldn’t stop.

“You’re ready to push, Ms. Y/L/N.” One of the nurses told you. And so Gerard was called back in to sit right next to your hospital bed, holding your hand as your screamed and groaned in agony and pain.

“You’re doing great.” He would tell you, giving you light kisses on the top of your head. “Just continue, sugar, and you’ll be all good.”

After a two and a half hour labor, you both heard small cries and most of your pain ceased. You were immediately handed your daughter, and all her seven pound self. And you instantly fell in love with her.

Gradually, after you and Gerard, who cried, got some time alone with her, family and friends were welcomed in. “Arden Lola Way.” You said aloud, the final name you and Gerard had decided on, “She’s incredible, Gee.” You told him, showing her off. Despite her little eyes being closed, her fingers perfectly wrapped around her fathers, and her little noises made your heart explode.

“I know she is.” He smiled, “We made that.” “We did.” You smiled even more.

Gradually the waves of people came in to greet you. It started out with your dad who was more than excited to hold his first granddaughter in his arms, and you could’ve sworn if it wasn’t for the line of other people wanting to hold her, he wouldn’t have let go.

Gerard’s dad came in next, along with Mikey. And surprisingly, Mikey too fell in love with your little girl. He seemed a little nervous holding her at first, but lightened up soon.

However, you were already worn out, and were extremely tired. Everyone had left besides you, Gerard, and of course your daughter. “Go to bed, sugar,” He told you, “I can take care of her.” And that was all you needed to be out like a light on the partially uncomfortable hospital bed, that post-giving birth felt like heaven.

But after a few hours, you were awoken by the screams of your daughter. Gee got up, carefully picking up your baby girl and trying to soothe her, which ended up failing. “I got her.” You mumbled, feeling like a zombie, and reaching out.

He gave her over in no time, you attempting as well to calm her. “I think she’s hungry.” You slumped over, giving her complete access so she could breast feed. “This’ll be a fun couple of months.” You sarcastically said, smiling lightly at him who lightly smiled back, nodding.

“Can’t wait.” He placed himself back on the couch next to your bed.

And a few short days later, you were out the door, Gerard helping get you and your daughter into the car and carefully driving off. And by carefully, you meant very carefully.

Which was also how he spent the next few weeks with the two of you. He had basically dropped everything to be at home, especially since he knew you couldn’t handle the baby alone.

“I think we should get married.” He said, sitting next to you in bed and flipping through a book, you doing the same.

“Okay.” You said, keeping your attention on the pages.

“Okay? “Yeah, let’s plan it.” You said, “I mean small, obviously, like really small.” He nodded.

“I love you.” He added on. “I love you too, Gee.” He gave you a quick kiss on the lips, Arden interrupting with her screams, which you could’ve easily mistaken for a murder.

“I’ll get her.” He got up, placing his book on the nightstand and jogging out of the room and down the hall to your newborns yellow room (Which you and he had spent almost five hours perfecting).

You could hear him begin to cradle her through the baby monitor you had on your side of the bed. If there’s one thing Gerard had proved since your daughter was born, it was that he absolutely adored her. If it weren’t for naps and breast feeding, you would bet money on the fact that that man would be holding your baby 24/7.

She slowly began calming down, stopping her ring of cries, and falling nearly asleep in his arms. Then you heard him do what he always did: sing her some lullaby. You couldn’t identify which once, but she was out like a light in less than 30 seconds, giving Gee an opportunity to gradually place her back in her crib.

“She loves it when you sing to her.” You smiled as your fiancee walked in.

“It’s the only way to get her to bed, ya know.” “Besides feeding her.” You leaned back and under the covers, against your pillow. “She takes after her father in that regard.” Gerard rolled his eyes.

And then came the hardest part of it all. Once your daughter was three months old, Gerard had finally brought up the upcoming album. They had scraped the initial one by that point, and were already half way through the new one. And while you were always proud of his work, having a kid presented various other issues and responsibilities. “When are you guys planning on releasing it?” You asked, sitting across from Gee at your dining table, your young one having a nap.

“Later this year.”

“So before or after Ard’s first birthday?”

“Probably after.” He stated, playing with his fingers. He himself was extremely anxious to tell you.

“What about the tour?” You asked, “Because I don’t think it would be best to tour with a one year old. And I would have to stay with her.” He nodded.

“I’m not sure.” He said, “I mean, there’s always Skype, right?” You reluctantly nodded. On the inside you were pissed at him right now for even thinking about leaving you and your daughter, but this was his job.

“Fine.” You said, getting up and beginning to walk away.

“Baby,” You could hear him get up, sounding almost sympathetic, because of course he knew you were mad, “Why don’t we talk about this?” “We just did!” You unintentionally snapped, “Sorry.” You sighed walking back over to him, “I’m just worried, okay? For both us and you.” He gave a confused look, “Well, obviously it’ll be hard for Arden to be away from you for so long, especially with her age.” “I’ll take every break I can and come home.” He stated.

“But what about you?” You looked up at him, making firm eye contact, “I love you, Gee, but you got off of drugs and alcohol once. And I’m not saying you would again, but we both know how stressed you get on tours.” “But I’ve gone the last two and a few in between clean, babe.”

“You also had Ray, Bob and I looking after you. Mikey too.” He looked down for a moment, “I won’t be there, Bob quit, and so now it’ll be Ray and Mikey.”

“I’ll call you if I’m struggling.” You rose in eyebrow in superstition, “I promise.”

“Alright.” You said, “Just please, be responsible, Gee. I know you can, but just be careful. Because now it’s not just me. You have a daughter too.” He nodded. “And I think Skypes will be mandatory with the little one.”

[xiubaek-13]

So Handsome

Prompt: Luhan + “If you’re bored I can think of other ways to pass the time…” + “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

Setting/AU: Library/College AU

Warnings: None really, cocky Luhan, implied smut.

Word Count: 1,241

Seriously how did you end up in this situation? Libraries were supposed to be for studying, or reading or researching. They were not supposed to be like this. You were not supposed to be this excited when surrounded by aisles and aisles of books. You remembered going to the library when you were at school. It was the place where you had to whisper and be quiet. It was where you chose to go during lunch breaks so that you could read. It was the place where the other kids flocked to on rainy days for shelter or hot days to take advantage of the air conditioning.

During university the balance shifted. Your love of the library dwindled when you spent so many hours there studying and researching. College dorms were not the ideal place for peace and quiet so the library was like your second home. You even had the best spot picked out, it was up the far back left corner of the fourth floor. The elevator was always broken so the odds of anyone dragging themselves up all 4 sets of stairs just to be loud and annoying was rare. The only books up here were on social theory and crime and you knew damn well that 80% of them were also on the first floor in the criminal law or sociology section.

There was one problem though. One very distracting problem and his name was Luhan. You knew who he was, it was difficult to live at a college dorm and not hear about Luhan. Girls flocked to him and guys wanted to be him. The guy was attractive, unfairly so, a top notch soccer player, a killer dancer and a seemingly overconfident ladies man. Tales of his conquests were a weekly occurance in your dorm. Until two weeks ago you’d never met the guy but you kind of hated him. Well, you hadn’t officially met him until two weeks ago, but you had acknowledged his existence at the odd mixer or frat party when your friends dragged you along to them. Two weeks ago everything changed. Two weeks ago he expanded your knowledge of exactly what one could do in the secluded aisles of the fourth floor. As it turned out, the answer was a lot.

Two weeks ago you’d been following your normal routine - finish classes, grab a snack and head to the library, climb the stairs and study in peace in your favourite spot - when he showed up. At first you were shocked that someone other than library staff and you even knew there was a fourth floor. Then you were annoyed at the idea of your space being violated, a feeling that you quickly squashed because it wasn’t really your space, it was public space and how were you to know if it wasn’t a like minded individual who wanted to escape the lower levels where study was surrounded by distractions.

You looked up from your books and watched the figure that was coming up the stairs. Disheveled brown hair was the first thing you spotted, followed by a face that did not belong on a human male. It was so youthful and angelic with doe eyes and inviting lips. He looked up when he reached the top of the stairs and your eyes met. You inclined your head as a way of greeting and he did the same before disappearing into the aisles.

You shook your head and tried to focus back on your paper but it was no use. You found yourself glancing around the aisles from your seat trying to spot him. He’d appear with a book in hand at the end of one aisle before disappearing again. Get a grip. You have a very important paper to write. Stop gawking at the stupidly attractive guy. You mentally scolded yourself and forced yourself back to writing.

In your periphery you spotted the white and black of his varsity jacket as he sat at the end of the table, placing a few books in front of him. You glanced at him as he slumped into the seat, his pen dangling from his mouth. STUDY.

You stared at your paper. You’d been right in the middle of fleshing out your argument for the decriminalisation of prostitution when the ultimate distraction had ascended the stairs. The essay had to be five thousand words and you planned to use each and every one of them. Most of the students would go the easy route, opting to simply support keeping it illegal. You found it much more interesting to counter that argument by not only debunking the popular myths and taboos about sex work but by also offering a vision of how sex work might look if it was a legitimised, legal job. You’d bring up point for standard health and hygiene requirements for both workers and customers, applying taxes, job security, safer work environments and more. You refused to let him throw off your train of thought and by proxy, lower your grade.

In your mind the two of you started a game of cat and mouse over the course of the next week. You’d come up to study and write your paper and then he’d appear and do his best at distracting your thoughts by simply sitting at the table. You wondered if he knew how much strife he was causing you by simply existing.

***

“If you’re bored I can think of other ways to pass the time…”

You jumped, startled by how close his voice was to you. The last time you’d checked he was all the way down the other end of the table. Now he was sitting right next to you, leaning towards you, a certain look in his eyes.

“Wh-what makes you think I’m bored?” You grabbed your bottle and took a sip of your water to try and make your throat feel a little less dry.

A devilish little smirk formed on his face. “You’ve been staring into space for like the past twenty minutes. Usually you are either staring at your books or at me.” You choked on your water, almost spitting it across the table. “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

“I’m not - I don’t - Why would -” Words were failing you and that only seemed to amuse him more.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“I just - How dare -”

He laughed. “Relax. I don’t mind.” He gestured at his face and winked at you. “I’m just that handsome.”

“And a little full of yourself.” You poked his shoulder as he feigned offense at your words.

“Seriously though, what’s got you staring into space? You’re usually more focused than that.” He leant on the desk, resting his head in his hands as he watched you.

“I’m stuck on one point on my essay. I know what I want to say but I can’t get the right words out.” He grinned and grabbed your hand, tugging it as he stood up, indicating for you to do the same.  He dragged you into one of the aisles and caged you between his arms. “What are you doing?”

“You need to empty your mind and lucky for you, I have multiple ways to help you do just that.” He pressed his body to yours and nipped at the exposed flesh of your neck, causing you to gasp.

“This is a library!”

He raised his eyebrow at you and scrunched his face. “I’m well aware of that, I just currently don’t care. Now, can we try my method for clearing your mind. I’d really prefer it if you said yes.”

[luki-fanfic]

A Kingdom For a Book: Part 2

I’m having way too much fun with this idea...

With one failed attempt under their belt, they end up having lunch in Chinatown before heading back to the hotel to regroup and debrief.  Tsuna and Gokudera end up sitting on one bed, Gokudera nose deep in a laptop, while Yamamoto leans back on another, and Ryohei slumps the wrong way round in a chair.

“I see why the Ninth didn’t want us to come here,” Yamamoto says.  “Do you think the owner knew who we were?”

Tsuna shook his head.  “No, I think he would have treated us that way even if we weren’t Vongola.  There was something about that shop...it just felt wrong.”

Ryohei frowns. “That’s strange to the extreme.  This could be challenging.”

Gokudera is nodding, digging up the research he’d been tinkering with even before they arrived.

“Okay, so that building?  It’s been there since the 1700’s,” he explains. “That’s when Soho was built up for the aristocracy, and the book shop’s been around since then.  Which is pretty damn impressive considering the wealthy all more of less fled mid 1800’s when there was a cholera outbreak and the neighbourhood took a serious dive.  I don’t think there’s a lot of business in London that have been in the same building that long, and if they did, they’re a lot more successful.  At this point, A.Z.Fell & Co should be a historic monument or tourist attraction just due to it’s existence, but it’s only reputation-”

At this he tosses his hands up in the air in disbelief.

“-Is a handful of websites for rare book dealers bemoaning it’s existence!  There’s a 3000 word essay on here that’s just analysing the opening times! I’ve never seen a white noise spot as bad as this outside of the mafia!  It shouldn’t even be possible without mist flames!”

“Are we sure they’re not?” Yamamoto asks, head tilting.  

Tsuna shakes his head.  

“No,” he insists.  “I don’t know what it was about that building, but flames weren’t involved.  Besides, it’s too obvious in its refusal to sell.”

Everyone gives a slow nod at that, and Tsuna bites his lip.

“What we need it witness accounts,” he says.  “We need to know what doesn’t work.”

This quickly results in Gokudera frantically tapping on his laptop again and setting up a video call with Dino in Italy.  When he learns where they are, his face flinches – as if he’s just watched a man belly flop from a high dive.

“Reborn sent you where?” he asks.  “The Ninth can’t possibly have approved that.”

“He wasn’t happy about it,” Tsuna admits.  “But...it’s Reborn.  You don’t really tell him no.”

Dino grimaces.  “I feel for you little bro.  I wish I could help, but I’ve never tried my luck against the devil of Soho.

“The devil of Soho?” the four repeat, and Dino chuckles.

“Oh, it’s kind of an in-joke among people who’ve tried,” he explains.  “The shop is on a crossroad, and someone one suggested you’d probably have to sell your soul in exchange for a book from A.Z. Fell, and it kind of caught on.  Plus, according to Christianity, devils or demons are supposed to be fallen angels, and they guy is called ‘Fell,’ so...”

Tsuna guesses it’s probably funnier for the Italians, because Gokudera’s openly cackling.  Although that said, Ryohei is also grinning, so maybe he’s a fan of the crossroads story.  The boxer does often enjoy American music…

“You might as well give selling your soul a shot though,” Dino continues.  “Because I don’t have the slightest clue what else would work.”

Yamamoto frowns, leaning back in a stretch that almost looks painful.

“If we can’t buy a book, can we just buy out the shop?” he asks Dino, and Gokudera brightens.

“The Baseball Idiot has a point.  I mean, this is Soho, and that shop can’t be making enough to stay in business.  Can’t we just buy the building, or bribe the owner?”

“You really think nobody ever thought of that?” Dino asks, eyebrows raising.  “The Fell family are loaded; they own that building, and they’ve never accepted a single offer.”

“Then we’ll make it a really good one.  Reborn said our credit limit was unlimited for this-”

“Ten years ago Mr. Fell was offered five times what the building was worth and he didn’t even think it over” Dino interrupts.  “And if you think you can scare him out, think again.  People have tried everything from hiking his electric bills to bribing the council to shut him down for health reasons.  I hear the building was even set on fire once.  Nothing sticks, and it always comes back round to whoever tried their luck. An awful lot of enforcers change careers after a run in with A.Z. Fell.”

Dino sounds a little bitter by the end, and Tsuna frowns.

“That sounds a little personal,” he says.  “Did Reborn try and make you go?”

His self proclaimed older brother suddenly finds it very hard to meet his eyes.

“No, but let’s just say I have it on good authority that one of the reasons my family ended up in such dire financial straights is because my grandfather tried to ah...convince Mr. Fell to move into a building owned by my family so he could have regular access to his collection,” Dino says.  “A week later, there’s a freak accident with our accountant’s computer systems that sees 60% of our assets frozen while a record of all our recent financial dealings was sent first class to the local police department.  By the time we cleared it up the money was gone.”

Gokudera does a full body flinch.

“How-”

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to know” Dino tells him.  “Some of those financials weren’t even supposed to have a paper trail.  When my negotiation trial came up, I told Reborn I wasn’t setting foot in that shop.  That I’d try and negotiate peace in Korea before I went to Soho.”

Yamamoto whistles, and Tsuna’s optimism sinks even more.

“Where’d you end up?” Tsuna asks.

“Guinea-Bissau,” Dino says.  “Came out of it with only two bullets wounds too.”

“...Thats...good?” Tsuna offers, frantically trying to remember exactly where on a map that was, and Dino shrugs.

“Better than Xanxus any way” he offers.  “He was lucky to get out intact.”

Yamamoto immediately lights up.  “Oh yeah.  The Ninth said he’d tried.”

“Lets call the Varia, to the extreme!” Ryohei agrees.

“Not sure how useful he’ll be,” Dino warns as they say goodbye.  “His tactics weren’t really compatible with you.”

That’s hardly news to Tsuna, but a list of what definitely wont work is better than no list at all at this point.  Yamamoto is already punching in Squalo’s number.

---

Two minutes later, Tsuna is wondering how far he can be from a video screen without appearing offensive, because Xanxus is glaring like he wants to reach through the computer and strangle Tsuna for the crime of bothering him.  

Which, to be fair is Xanxus’s general mode of being, but Tsuna hasn’t survived this long by getting complacent.  Given his life, it’s not impossible Xanxus has figured out how to do it.  

At least the Varia commander is taking his question seriously – the glare had almost vanished when Yamamoto had explained just where they were.

“Whatever you do, don’t steal one” Xanxus warns when Yamamoto finishes up, and Tsuna finds himself leaning forward.

“You stole one?” he says.  “I thought the requirement was legal purchase.”

“I was getting desperate!” Xanxus snarls, almost defensively.  “Fell-Trash is impossible to reason with.  Not that it did me any good.  Cost me three months, my body weight in pride and a Lightning Guardian.”

At that Tsuna pauses, and glances to the corner of the screen where he can see Xanxus’s guardians, Levi included, not-so-subtly listening in. Xanxus rolls his eyes.

“Parasol-Trash is number 2” he tells him.  “Huge improvement over Belias, I assure you.  Idiot walked out with some old folio under his jacket, figuring we could negotiate after it was in our hands.  To this day, I have no clue what happened to him, but that folio was on display in the window next morning and Fell’s creepy ass boyfriend was wearing Belias’s shades when we walked in.”

“Boyfriend?” Yamamoto asks, and Xanxus chuckles.

“Oh trust me Trash, you’ll know him when you see him.”

In the background Lussuria is fanning himself with a hand, while Squalo is glowering and inching closer to the screen.  Tsuna ignores both of them.

“You didn’t try to find out what happened?” he questions, and Xanxus glares.

“Of course I fucking did!” he snaps.  “Even had the lightning member’s we brought along tried to put on the squeeze, but both of them are mental steel traps.  If anything, threats just amuse them.  Two of Belias’s closest tried physical violence – the boyfriend has this classic car, beautiful piece of machinery; I’ll give him that – smashed out every window and made it clear we were coming back to finish the job.  Car like that can’t be easy or cheap to fix.”

“It didn’t work?” Gokudera asks, and Xanxus shakes his head.

The trash left the hotel to get drinks, next thing I know the shark trash is getting a call from the hospital about them.”

The Varia boss jerks his head back, and Squalo freezes for a second, before slinking up to his boss, not even pretending to be subtle in his approach anymore.

“Were they still alive?” Tsuna asks, not sure if he wants to know.  Xanxus merely glares at Squalo, who reacts as though it pains him to answer.

“Voi, they lived,” he says.  “Looked like they’d been run over by that stupid car a couple hundred times, but they lived.  Not that it mattered to us, both of them up and joined a monastery in New Zealand the second they were released!”

Yamamoto frowns. “New Zealand?  When you abandon your old life to join a monastery, don’t you usually got to somewhere like Tibet or something?”

“Voi, according to them, they picked New Zealand because there aren’t any snakes there,” Squalo snarled.  “Don’t ask me why, never had a problem with them before.”

“Yeah, and that car come morning?” Xanxus adds.  “Perfect. Condition.  After that, I cut my losses while I still had something to lose.”

“It was their own fault for making compensation jokes about the darling’s car!” Lussuria defends from the back, and Xanxus throws a wine glass in his direction.

The Varia side of the call inevitably descends into a brawl, and little advice is coming.  All Tsuna’s managed to gather is, stay legal, screaming is pointless, and don’t threaten his associates or their possessions.

Tsuna silently vows that Gokudera must never enter that building unaccompanied.

Also, before the screen cut off completely, Lussuria popped onto the screen with one final titbit.

“Oh, one more thing.  Don’t flirt with the boyfriend,” he says with Bel half in a headlock and the screen on it’s side.  “Crowley-darling seems to think it’s funny, but it ticks Mr. Fell off no end.  Not sure how he did it, but I got food poisoning whenever I ate out the rest of the time we were there.  Ciao!”

The screen immediately goes black, and as a group, Tsuna, Gokudera and Ryohei all glance in Yamamoto’s direction.  The teen immediately starts pouting.

“Why are you all looking at me?” he whines.  

“Because out of everyone in this room who would think it would be funny, you’re the only one who’d actually try his luck, Baseball Idiot,” Gokudera snaps, and Yamamoto’s lip quirks, point taken.  After so much time hanging around Squalo and Reborn, Yamamoto’s baseline for appropriate behaviour and etiquette will never recover – not that there was ever much to save, if Tsuna’s being entirely honest.  

In the end, after looking at a spreadsheet of the opening hours Gokudera has on hand, they decide to hold off this evening, and try again in the 40 minute window that there should be just before lunch.

Who knows, maybe Mr. Fell will be more agreeable after he’s eaten?

---

One more part, and think it’ll be ready to migrate to AO3...

[danganxastrologyimagines]

Ryoma, Yusuke, Futaba, Kirumi, and Miu with s/o who struggles with sodium valproate syndrome (more deets in first paragraph)

Basically, I have a condition that acts as a barrier between me doing well in classes, keeping friends and being by myself with my own thoughts due to my emotional state. I don’t have any distinctive facial features, nor do I have any of the associated problems, like heart and bone conditions. So people think I’m just antisocial bc I feel like it, when I truthfully feel embarrassed by my emotions. My brother also has the condition and he has a LOT of the obvious physical signs of the condition. 

-Mod Miu

Ryoma Hoshi:

He was drawn to you due to how distant you were to people. It was almost as if you had something you were hiding, either due to embarrassment or due to not wanting to be found guilty of something.

You didn’t have many people you showed your more vulnerable side with, and you seemed fine with just getting straight C’s. Ryoma did, however, notice how long you would lie in bed doing nothing for the first 2 hours of the morning. He also spotted how people spoke about you behind your back, making the assumption that you were simply a “self-centred brat”.

So, He wants your point of view. He could tell by looking at you that you had something going on emotionally, he just couldn’t quite identify why.

“Hey, s/o.” He growled out casually. “Come over after your stuff is done and we can hang out or whatever.”

You felt your ears tingle in a familiar yet vague warmth. You hated the feeling your ears got whenever you could tell you were going to get told off.

So, you hesitantly agreed to do so.

Arriving at his apartment, he walks you through into his office.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Ryoma started.

There went your ears again. Your body tenses up, preparing to get told the same stuff your ex-friend said to you.

“I noticed how long it takes you to get ready for the day.” Ryoma stated. “It’s almost like you don’t care about yourself.”

You started to cry, expecting Ryoma to just tell you to grow up like everyone else had done with you.

“I haven’t heard nice things about you lately, s/o. I can tell you’re deliberately sabotaging your social life.”  Ryoma lets out in a sigh, rubbing his temples. “So please tell me what’s going on.”

You pause, looking down at your feet.

“I suck at embracing my emotions.” You let out, unsure how to explain your next sentence. “I’ve always struggled with it, and I know why I am the way I am.”

You take a deep breath, expecting Ryoma to chew your ear off with you not looking like the condition.

“I’ve got a condition that acts as a barrier with emotions for me. It has a lot of other things to it, but I somehow only picked up shitty emotional stuff. I’ve got sodium valproate syndrome, Ryoma, and I’ve been working hard at it to deal with the condition.” You let out, knowing it’s been stuck in your mind for ages. “If you don’t believe me, I seriously don’t care. I’ve had enough people only going to easy answers.”

Ryoma doesn’t change his expression at all after hearing this, but internally he was glad that you at least knew why you struggled with emotions. Additionally, he was glad you didn’t have a recent traumatic emotional experience.

He makes sure to support you with what you need, and your happy Ryoma is as open as he is.

Yusuke Kitagawa:

You and Yusuke got together because you were both classed as difficult to read. After all, both of you had straight faces, and it was rare to see you guys smiling.

However, Yusuke was more open about his strange personality than you were. It became apparent that you struggled more with your emotions than others did. You could maintain an average appearance, but Yusuke did note how little you would study in favour for distracting yourself from your emotions.

One day, when you returned from school to get away from your inferiority complex, Yusuke sent you a message inviting you over to act as a model for a new painting he was working on. He had everyone else involved as models as well, and you  found an excuse not to go.

“Ah, dear! Come in, I’m glad you came.” Yusuke let out softly, letting you in as he closed the door.

You noted the lack of art supplies in the room, and this set you off into a bad state. 

“Ah, I forgot to get the canvas out.” Yusuke let out, placing the blank canvas on the stand. “Now, my dear, please take a seat and we can get started. Would you like something to drink as I paint you?”

You politely turn down the offer, placing yourself down.

“Tell me about what’s going on in your mind, s.o.” Yusuke started as he painted you. 

You started to slump in the chair you were sitting up in, letting out a shaky sigh.

“I’ve always struggled with my emotions, Yusuke. I recently found out I was diagnosed as a child with a condition that explains this to me.” You start.

Yusuke looks at you, curious about what condition you had.

Explaining the condition, you allowed Yusuke to listen and watched for any negative reactions.

Unsurprisingly, he hid any bad facial expressions.

“I see.” He let out after you explained it. 

He was slightly more forceful, yet encouraging, as he invited you out for any friend gatherings. He now knew why you didn’t like to be alone, while you were very quiet for an extrovert.

Futaba Sakura: gonna write as a friend instead of s/o

You were originally the person that supported her to get better with controlling her anxiety, and you now were the best of friends. Her quirkiness would improve your mood almost immediately, and the few times she wasn’t with you she sent you loads of memes.

You never had to really tell her about your condition for her to understand how you were, as she understood what mental health is like.

There were some times when you would get overwhelmed with emotions, and Futaba would be able to pull you out of your daze before it became uncontrollable in the moment.

She found that when she needed to go out, she would always feel safe by your side due to how analytical you were of your surroundings as well as how good you were at preventing harassers due to experience.

Both of you needed the other as a friend, and this created a strong bond. She was there if you needed someone to sit with you, and you were there to help Futaba in public situations.

Kirumi Tojo:

She didn’t see you for a few days, and she was getting worried. Knowing where your spare key was, she lets herself into the house while announcing herself to you.

You heard her, but you just didn’t have the mental energy to sprint into a hiding place.

Of course, even if you did this, you knew Kirumi would hear your rustling into your chosen hiding place. So, you just layed in bed. It had been days since you took proper care of yourself.

“s/o, I’m coming into your room now.” Kirumi warned you, entering the room that was unkempt. 

“Is everything okay?” Kirumi queries, rubbing your shoulder.

You just look at the blank white ceiling.

Kirumi cleaned your room with your permission before coming through with herbal tea and talking to you about your condition, as well as how it affects people differently and how others have misconceptions about how the condition is identified.

After you explain yourself, Kirumi reassures you that she is open with knowing about people’s health, as well as appreciating your co-operation in helping her understand a complex condition that had mental and physical effects on a person’s well-being.

Miu Iruma:

Miu was outspoken, while you were introverted. Both of you didn’t like to show emotions like sadness to others, as it made you look vulnerable and/or like you wanted to play a victim in a situation.

For the most part, you were able to hold back the urge to cry.

Until it became uncontrollable at times. Once time Keebo was saying things, comparing you to him in the way of not showing a vulnerable side. Miu was around the corner as she heard Keebo say “Maybe you are a robot like me, and you’re embarassed about it.” triumphantly. 

Miu knew what he was talking about, and it pissed her off to hear him of all people talking to you in the way he was. She was disappointed in him for thinking as analytically, until she realised you were a rather analytical person as well.

She walks up to the two of you, stopping when she’s next to you and she realises you’re starting to tear up because of the confrontation.

“Jeez, you sound like Kokichi when you say that, Keeboy!” Miu exclaimed. “Let’s just talk about what’s going  on in that big fuckin brain of yours s/o!”

You eventually spoke about the many difficulties you grew up with, also stating you managed to not be put in a special unit like your sibling did, who was less fortunate with their academics but more fortunate with emotions.

Once you explained yourself, Miu raised her brows. 

“Jesus christ, that explains shit!” Miu exclaims. 

“I must apologise for my comments, s/o.” Keebo sheepishly let out, rubbing the back of his head.

You got a closer connection to Keebo, and Miu was more understanding of you as a person.

[anubislover]

Examination (Chapter 4 of Heartstealers Get Jealous, Too)

“Ummm, Tora-o-kun, you know you don’t have to be here, right?”

Glowering, Law crossed his arms as he sat on Chopper’s desk. Everything in the infirmary was built to accommodate the smaller doctor’s size, making the Surgeon of Death appear even more lanky and intimidating. “I’m just making sure Tony-ya does his job right.”

The small reindeer looked offended while Nami frowned. “Ok, first of all, I just rolled my ankle, so I’m pretty sure a doctor isn’t even necessary, but secondly, Chopper’s been treating me literally since I met him. I think he can be trusted with my health.”

“You don’t know it’s just a rolled ankle because you’re not a doctor, Nami-ya. There could be hairline fractures neither of you can feel through the swelling. It’s better to let me cut the leg open so I can get a direct look at the bone. It’s much easier to see if anything’s broken when there’s no skin or muscle in the way.” He scoffed at their twin looks of horror. It was a simple, efficient procedure he did on his own crew all the time. Honestly, they were acting like he suggested amputation.

“That is completely unnecessary!” Chopper cried. “I don’t care if your powers make it easier; I can check Nami’s leg without cutting it open!”

“See? Chopper knows what he’s talking about! Now shoo!”

“And what if I’m right and there is a break? You could be walking across the deck, every step putting more and more pressure on those minuscule cracks in your bone, when suddenly your femur shatters underneath you. Tony-ya’s talented in pharmacology and internal medicine, but I doubt he has the surgical skills to repair something like that. Plus, I’ve been studying medicine for far longer. I should be the one examining you.”

Brown eyes narrowed at his flippant remarks. “Yeah, well, your bedside manner sucks compared to his.”

“You’ve never complained about it before,” he replied with a sultry smile. “Last time I even wore the lab coat with no shirt like you asked; isn’t that putting my patient’s needs first?”

Despite the blush staining her cheeks, she stood her ground. She was not going to let him seduce her to his side. Not this time, at least. “Chopper is more than capable of taking care of me without you hovering like some ominous specter of doom. Right, Chopper?”

Looking nervously between the two, the blue-nosed doctor squeaked, “Yes?”

“Checking for breaks and sprains require skilled hands, not hooves. He could easily cause more harm than good.”

This time, the smaller doctor glared, though it wouldn’t have much effect on a skittish mouse, much less the jaded pirate captain. “I’m perfectly proficient in this form, but if you’re that worried…” He shifted into his more human-like form, holding up his furry hands and wiggling his fingers.

Law just scoffed distastefully at his larger, burlier physique. “Color me unimpressed. Now you’re more likely to crush her ankle than examine it. Slender, more fragile bones like Nami-ya’s require a delicate touch.”

“You sound a lot like Sanji right now. Did the two of you switch bodies?”

“And give him the opportunity to feel up my woman? I’d kill him at the mere suggestion. Clearly, your logic and reasoning skills need work, too. Unless you’re delirious from the heat? If that’s the case, go lay down while I check on Nami-ya’s ankle. I can’t in good conscience allow her to be treated by someone not at peak mental capacity.”

“Says the insomniac,” Chopper grumbled under his breath, cowering as the full force of Law’s piercing glare fell on him.

“Says the doctor who’s been practicing medicine longer than you’ve been alive.”

“Ok, seriously, quit being an ass to Chopper,” Nami snapped. She really should have stepped in sooner, but she was hoping Law would come to his senses, especially since Chopper had actually managed to stand up for himself. “He’s an excellent doctor and my friend, and I won’t have you belittling him like this.”

“Shut up! I don’t need your help!” the reindeer replied even as he beamed at her praise.

Gold eyes rolled up to the ceiling in exasperation. “Fine, he’s not a bad doctor, but I’m still better.”

Stubbornly crossing her arms, she said, “Well, Chopper’s more cuddly than you are.”

“The hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Being more cuddly and approachable means that people actually want to be under his care. Compare a cute, fuzzy reindeer to a creepy insomniac with ‘DEATH’ tattooed on his fingers who insists on cutting people open at the drop of a hat, and which one do you think I’d rather have treating my injuries?” she huffed.

Though he should be pissed, Law couldn’t help but smirk seductively. She was damn cute when she back-talked him, tempting him to pin her down and tease her until she submitted. Getting up from the desk, he crossed the room in a few easy strides, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his hungry gaze. “Bet he can’t kiss them better like I can.”

“I’ve never understood that,” Chopper cut in, scratching his chin as he shifted back down into his default form. “It’s a placebo effect at best, and mainly just risks exposing the wound to the bacteria in your mouth.”

Annoyed, Law glowered at him. He really did respect his fellow doctor, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ticking him off. Had it been Zoro or Sanji that had been hurt, he’d be giving Chopper his full support, perhaps even tossing in a few threats to better convince them to comply to the reindeer’s commands. But this was Nami; when it came to the welfare of the few people he cared about, Law was a total control-freak. Unless he was the one taking care of them, his thoughts would spiral with all the worst-case scenarios, making him an anxious, irritable pain in the ass. The Surgeon of Death knew it was completely irrational, but his woman was injured, and the cotton candy lover was preventing him from checking her over and assuring his restless mind that she was fine. “Well, if you don’t know that, I’m not sure you’re qualified to examine Nami-ya,” he sneered petulantly. “You do realize that if your prognosis is wrong and she isn’t given proper treatment, she could end up crippled? And if that happens, she’ll be easy pickings for the Marines or Kaidou’s men if she’s attacked. Are you willing to risk that, Tony-ya?”

The blue-nosed doctor stared at the floor, unable to come up with a good response to the blunt, cutting remarks. Of course he knew the risks of a misdiagnosis; it was a fear that haunted him every time he had to patch up or examine someone. The wrong dosage of medicine administered, a missed crack in the bone, mistaking a poisonous mushroom for one that could cure all diseases; it could all spell doom for his precious nakama.

Cold, earnest fury pumped through Nami’s veins at Chopper’s defeated expression. She knew Law was a massive worrywart and wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt her friend, but one more word out of him and she’d throw him straight into the sea. How could anyone possibly pick on such a cute little creature, especially when he was just trying to help?

Resisting the urge to cuddle the dejected reindeer and punch her lover, she instead forced a gentle smile towards the smaller doctor. “Chopper, would you be a dear and bring me my slippers from my cabin? I probably shouldn’t walk around in my high heels for a bit, no matter the prognosis.”

Despite knowing this was just an excuse to get him out of the room so Nami could have a private word with her overbearing lover, Chopper agreed, more than happy to put some distance between him and Law so he could regroup. The last thing he needed was to show weakness in front of the skilled surgeon; that would only cast further doubt on his skills.

The moment the reindeer was out of the room, Nami turned and grabbed her lover’s shirt, yanking him down so he was inches from her face. “Law,” she whispered harshly, “you will be nice to Chopper! Even if he hadn’t saved the life of every member of this crew at least once, that is no way to talk to someone who’s been screwing up the courage to ask you for some mentorship.”

Guilt mixed with surprise in the surgeon’s expression. “He has?”

“Yes! He’s a great doctor, but he’s young and hasn’t had a proper mentor since he left Drum Island. If he plans on accomplishing his dream, he has to learn as much as possible about every type of medicine, and why not learn from the best? Hell, if he plans on keeping the idiots on this crew alive, he needs to improve his surgical skills! I even told him you’d be willing to do it, or at least let him sit in on some of your surgeries, but you being such an ass is completely killing his confidence!”

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed further, though her anger seemed to diminish. “Don’t apologize to me; apologize to Chopper, or else I’m going to tell Zoro and Luffy you’ve been bullying him. Or worse; Robin.”

Law shuddered. Normally, he wouldn’t consider her sicing her crew on him much of a threat, though he knew for a fact that Luffy was scarily protective of his friends, and the swordsman seemed to have a soft spot for the reindeer. He could probably handle the pair if they decided to attack him. Robin however…

Shoulders slumping, he rested his forehead against her bright orange hair, inhaling the mikan scent that never failed to calm him. Loathe as he was to admit it, Nami was right; he was being an ass, and Chopper deserved his respect as a fellow doctor. “Alright, I will, and he’s more than welcome to shadow me on some examinations and surgeries.”

The gentle peck she rewarded him with made his lips turn up in a slight smile. “You’re such a softie, Tora-o-kun. I didn’t even have to dress up as a nurse to convince you.”

Eyes snapping open, he stared at her, mouth agape. “Wait, I could have gotten that out of the deal? I take it back; no mentorship unless I get my naughty nurse.”

Smiling like the cat that ate the canary, she giggled, “Too late; you already gave your word.” She was glad she didn’t have to give up that particular bargaining chip; Law was a lot easier to manipulate once she found out he was really into the sexy nurse fantasy. He’d even bought her the uniform, but she was saving it for a special occasion; most likely as a reward for saving her life, or possibly getting her an entire shipload of treasure.

Growling, his tattooed hand teasingly ran up and down her thigh. “That’s hardly fair; I wear the lab coat for you all the time.”

“That’s because if someone walks in on you in the coat, no one bats an eye. I get caught in that uniform and everyone knows what kind of kinky shit you’re into.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to do it somewhere we won’t get caught.”

Mirroring his devilish grin, she slowly nibbled along the sharp line of his jaw. “Or you’re going to have to do something to earn it.”

“Mentoring Tony-ya isn’t enough?”

“Not by a long shot.”

Before Law could be tempted to “convince” her, there was a timid knock at the door, coaxing the couple to break away. The last thing they needed was for Chopper to see anything inappropriate in his own infirmary. The door opened, the young doctor looking through to check it was safe, though notably he was peeking the wrong way.

Assured he wasn’t walking in on one of the couple’s make-out sessions, the small doctor walked in, not making eye contact with the tattooed surgeon as he handed Nami her fuzzy bedroom slippers.

Guilt gnawed at Law’s stomach. Nami was right; he shouldn’t be so hard on Chopper. Not just so Robin wouldn’t tear him to pieces; the blue nosed reindeer had the potential to revolutionize medicine, and it would be a shame if all that was wasted because he didn’t have the right training.

And damn it, he looked like a miserable stuffed animal when he was sad. Even Law wasn’t that heartless.

“Tony-ya?”

“Yeah?”

Awkwardly, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Go ahead and check Nami-ya’s ankle. You’re right; surgery is completely superfluous unless you actually feel a break. Even then, it’s your call if she needs it. This is your infirmary, so I should respect your authority. Mugiwara-ya wouldn’t have asked you to join his crew if your skills weren’t up to scratch.”

Though the cloud of misery that hovered over his head started to dissipate, Chopper’s smile was more self-deprecating than anything else. “Luffy only asked me to join because I’m a monster, and Sanji thought I was emergency food.”

Ok, Law was going to have a serious talk with the cook later. For starters, if you’re going to eat your crew, doctors and navigators were, on principle, off-limits, even if they weren’t human. Better to start with less essential positions. “If Black Leg-ya even thinks about cooking you, I’ll transplant his mind into the ugliest person I can find. I trust you with Nami’s care. You’re a great doctor; the fact that Zoro-ya is still alive is a testament to that.”

“Shut up! An idiot like you doesn’t know what he’s talking about!” Chopper gushed, dancing about as stars twinkled in his eyes.

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t want to assist me in surgery sometime?” he asked with a smirk, chuckling when Nami smacked his leg.

“What? No! I mean, yes! I’d love to assist you! I mean, if that’s ok…” he replied anxiously.

“Excellent. Of course, we’ll need a patient. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and Zoro-ya and Black Leg-ya will injure themselves in their next argument.”

“That’s not lucky!”

“Then we’ll just break into a hospital on the next island we land on and practice on the patients there.”

“That’s insane!”

He shrugged. “I do it all the time. Honestly, it works out for everyone; the hospital gets free surgeries, the patients get excellent treatment, I get extra practice while restocking my supplies, and my crew isn’t constantly acting as my guinea pigs. Marine bases are the best, though; they’ve got the most advanced medical equipment to play with, plus plenty of wounded men in need of fixing up whose deaths you won’t feel guilty over if something goes wrong.”

Chopper looked at Nami in horror. “He’s serious, isn’t he?”

Rubbing her temples and wondering if she should have encouraged her friend to find a less sadistic mentor, she sighed, “As the plague.”

[sansy-fresh]

Harried and Torn chap. 1

It was a calm day before they showed up. Sans is already kinda done.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Unethical Experimentation on Children, Bad Science, Eventual Happiness, Angst First tho, Cultural Misunderstandings, Bledgeupuff, Spicykustardpuff

ao3 link

my kofi if you’d like to give me a lil pep up <3 my patreon if you’d like to support what I do <3

He’d been carefully stacking a fairly solid textbook on top of the pile of other fairly thick textbooks when the entire house trembled beneath his feet. It’d been a slow day before that, Papyrus insistent he finally clean up his bookshelf a bit and put all the papers in their proper folders like a real scientist would, because honestly Sans, its like you were raised in a barn .

Sans had… well he’d taken a nap first, since Paps had cooked up a seriously heavy breakfast and salmon dill pancakes always put him right to sleep. He couldn’t help it, really, and while Paps had been fairly lenient about his nap, the moment he squinted his eyes open to check the time he was scooped up and set firmly on his feet, pushed towards the stairs with a pat on the shoulder.

Squaring his thin shoulders, Sans had marched (slumped) upstairs and gone to his room to stare at the bookshelf in question for a few minutes, just to try to get a game plan here. Mostly ‘cause, brothers and sisters and nonbinary pals, it was a mess. Papers stuck out of random paper and or plastic folders, books were stacked in every direction and orientation they could be stacked. All in all it certainly looked like every other research center Sans had ever seen, but maybe his brother had a point.

Ever since coming up to the surface things had been… difficult. What with the things that happened back underground, what with doctors and labs and little kids with the power to mess with the fabric of space and time. It’d been… stressful? To put it lightly. And Papyrus, bless his soul, hadn’t come out of it entirely unscathed either. It had sorta helped that Sans wasn’t alone for all the shit, but the guilt he felt that Paps had gone through any of it overrode any relief he felt.

Because of the “trauma and both mental and emotional health issues” they both suffered, Paps had signed them both up for therapy at an office that was three hours away from New New Home, just so Paps could take a day once a month to drive with the top down and allow the wind to blow through his skull. Sans just wore a warmer jacket those days and hunkered down for the ride. Therapy… helped. Sometimes.

After cracking his knuckles and looking longingly at his bed for a few minutes, he got to work. Papers were pored over and either put in a folder of their brethren or crumbled up and thrown in his increasingly full trash can. Books were stacked until he could figure out the optimum way to put them on the shelves. He’d been at it for a good hour when the house suddenly decided that collapsing on itself was a brilliant way to handle its problems, his carefully stacked tower of books on particle theory and quantum physics toppling over, ruining his good, hard work.

Sans gave himself a moment to mourn, hand over his soul as he mimed wiping a single tear before finally turning to the door that had smoke slowly curling under it. Well. That certainly was a problem. Paps would never forgive him if the house caught fire because of something in the basement, if that’s what had caused this.

He really wasn’t sure, his mind whirring to life as he made his way down the steps through the smoke, a hand holding his shirt up over his mouth. He hadn’t been doing any kind of anything down there, not for months. The machine was down there, he hadn’t been able to leave it underground and while Paps had given him a weird look and avoided the basement after he’d put it back together, it sat in the same spot it had for nearly five years. He hadn’t touched it, hadn’t turned it on, hadn’t even looked at it the few times he went down there to look for a damn wrench for the leaky pipe under the sink.

But yeah, the smoke was near pouring through the open door that lead to the basement which meant that Paps had already gone down there to try and save the house and Sans really needed to hurry.

He wasn’t going to find a pile of dust. He wasn’t.

Almost tripping down the stairs, Sans peered through the dingy, smoke filled room to find the machine in the corner, nearly melted apart. Something like regret twinged in his soul, but he was near instantly looking for his brother before it could really take root. Glancing around, he saw a figure hunched over in the smoke, a white hand waving around as if trying to get the smoke to clear. Sans hurried over, nearly tripping over one of the bodies on the ground as he came to an abrupt stop.

There were actually two bodies, Paps staring down at them with him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t see the resemblance. Two brothers, eyes closed and breathing light, faces scrunched but unconscious to the world. Scars covering every bone Sans could see, the color of them nearly offwhite.

Rubbing a hand over what was left uncovered of his face, Sans gave the machine a withering glare before bending down to haul up the shorter of the two skeletons. Paps followed his lead, picking the taller up in a bridal carry, Sans going with a bit more of a potato sack hold. The other him was a heavy fucker, his bones more dense for whatever stupid reason, but Sans grit his teeth and carried him up the stairs, one step at a time.

As soon as he got the opportunity the other him was dumped on the couch, the little bounce revenge for being so fucking heavy. Turning back to the door, he watched Paps set the taller skeleton lightly on the couch beside his brother. The two seemingly from-an-apparently-shit-universe skeletons were already breathing easier, Paps opening a few of the larger windows to air out the damn smoke.

“I am seeing what I think I’m seeing, aren’t I?” Papyrus asked, standing over the brothers with his hands on his hips. Sans shrugged, staring down at them with a blank expression. It was answer enough, Paps nodding to himself even as he frowned.

Sans knew on a basic level what Paps was thinking. He was feeling guilty that they’d ended up here, that they’d been through whatever they’d been through, that they were stuck with a pair of traumatized fuckers that watched horror movies for fun and ate a lot of pickles because the juice got any and all phantom tastes out of their mouths. Well, maybe that last thought was all him, he’d gotten distracted.

As Paps disappeared into the kitchen, probably to grab a couple water bottles out of the fridge and whatever crackers they had on hand, Sans sat on the coffee table, back to the wonder twins as he put his head in his hands. This whole thing was already giving him a migraine, but that could be the smoke too, couldn’t rule that out.

There was no way to get them home, if they even wanted to. With the machine being pretty much completely destroyed, he’d have to scour dumps all over the damn world to find all the pieces he needed to rebuild it from scratch. They were stuck here, in some random ass universe that could be exactly like their own, or nothing like their own, and Sans was going to have to explain all this when they woke up, fuck.

It took him a second to place what the buzzing sound was, it’d been a while since his last mock fight, but a second later his body was hurling itself to the side, the sound of a bone attack sticking into the wall with a sick thud letting him know a little of what the hell was going on. Otherwise it was kind of a mystery, seeing as how the two brothers were supposed to be unconscious on the couch, not standing in battle positions, hands raised and magic flaring in their eyes.

“Okay buddies, lets just-” A bone flew past his face, nearly clipping his cheek. That fun little brush with death was enough to make him realize that they were confused, probably not in their right minds, and sort of furious? For some reason? So he did what he did best, and kept talking.

“It’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He took a step back as they slowly, surely moved toward him, though the Papyrus’ sockets had narrowed. They were backing him up against the wall, apparently too used to doing this whole pack hunting thing, which didn’t mean anything good for him but he had to try to stay alive, if only because Paps had wanted to watch Saw 8 soon. Who was he to deny his brother movie night because he’d died like a bitch.

“You’re both safe here, don’t know if you noticed-” A bone was shoved just under his chin, the Papyrus moving too fast to be clearly seen until he was right in front of Sans, bone in his hand and pointed right at Sans’ throat. Swallowing, Sans took a gamble and glanced at his own double, hands calmly at his sides.

“You’re not home.”

The two of them stood there for a moment, potent magic crackling in the air as they stared him down, until the Papyrus moved again, this time grabbing Sans by the scruff of the neck and shoving the bone attack through his shirt, pinning him to the wall.

“You are going to explain where we are, and how we get back, or I will kill you.” The Papyrus spoke with a harsh grind, crimson eyelights flashing with barely contained fury. The Sans was quietly biding his time, but Sans had no doubts about his role in all this. Just as he was about to open his mouth though, the ping of two souls turning blue filled his ears, Papyrus walking into the room with a wide grin on his face.

Sans knew that grin. He knew it intimately, which was unfortunate because that was the smile Paps wore when Sans’d seriously fucked up.

Papyrus moved across the room, striding past the two… furiously confused? skeletons, popping the bone out of the wall and bringing Sans down to his feet before turning to them both, still bearing that terrifying smile.

“Alright, boys, lets talk about etiquette when you’re not in your own universe.”