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sevendeadlymorons · 3 years

Note

Hey I’m that one anon from a while back that sent those long ass paragraphs about Lilith and Simeon, remember me? Anyway I know I’m very late to the party, but some of the boys are either getting to much hate or too much love over here (in my opinion) so I made a pros and cons list for all of them, I’m sorry- (I’m warning you now this will be long but I’ll put it in bullet points so it’s a bit easier to read, just read it whenever your mentally ready lol)

Lucifer (I hate this man.)

Pros

He’d help a lot with getting your life together wether that be finding a job, choosing the right college or other shit like that

He’d make sure your working hard and getting everything done, which is both a blessing and a curse tbh

He would be the one to take the most care of you whenever your ill psychically

Cons

He would probably overwork you

Doesnt have much time to spend on you and doesn’t make a effort to find more time unless your getting really sad about it

Probably wouldn’t be the best of help through issues with mental illness (he just doesn’t strike me as that type, feel free to disagree)

His pride would cause some serious problems in relationships :/

Mammon (I love this man.)

Pros

He’s the “if your sad, I’m sad” kind of guy so he does whatever he can to put a smile on your face

Makes his affection towards you known once he’s comfortable enough, mostly through things like hugs and head pats tho

He shows off anything you make, and I mean anything (you gave him a drawing? After showing it to everyone he puts it on the fridge. You wrote something? He reads it to everyone then puts it in his notebook to reread later, I think you get where I’m going with this)

Cons

There would probably be some communication issues due to his tsundere nature and habit of ignoring you when he’s mad

He’d get super mad at you when your trying to help him financially, maybe it’s a ego thing or maybe he’s just tired of hearing it

While his possessiveness is cute at times he’d definitely get way to overbearing if you don’t force him to cool it

Levi (I kin this man.)

Pros

He’d try to set up designated hangout times (like Friday is movie night, Tuesday is for RPGs etc)

Wanna spend time with him but aren’t very into what he’s into? While it will be harder to bond with him because of this I think if you REALLY wanted to hang with him he’d at least try to meet you in the middle (like if you like sports he’ll offer to play wii sports lol)

Insecurities getting you down again? Well never fear, levi is here! He’d find characters with flaws similar to those you see in yourself to prove that they don’t really matter (and since he struggles with insecurity himself he’d know how you feel and be one of the best at helping you through them)

Cons

Even if he makes an effort to meet you in the middle if you have different interests he’d refuse to get into “normie” stuff

He’ll guilt trip you constantly, even if it’s not on purpose (“Oh your hanging out with Asmo today? I get it, of course you’d wanna hang out with somebody cool and perfect like Asmo and not a gross yucky otaku like me”)

You have to initiate almost everything Hugs? You hug first. Handholding? You reach out to him. Confessions? You seriously thought he’d be the one to confess first??

Satan

Pros

Similar to Lucifer he’d be good at helping you get your life together and putting you on the right track

Unlike Lucifer, he’d actively make time for date nights and/or hangouts multiple times a week wether your going out for dinner or reading in front of the fireplace

While he himself might not be best at helping with comfort in the moment, he’d be great to turn to if you needed a long time treatment (you need a therapist? He’s got the best three in your area that you can afford and he found some helpful things you can do in this book)

Cons

As stated previously, he’s not the best with comfort, which can be an issue if you need a friend/partner who can be your biggest source of comfort (I’m not saying he’ll do nothing, it’ll just be kinda awkward ig)

If you vent to him about something he’ll always offer advice and while that can be good, sometimes all you want is someone to listen to you and getting advice can be annoying in the moment

I feel like hanging out with him you’d rarely ever get to talk about pointless things, everything would be serious you know? And while serious and deep conversations are good for bonding, some people (myself included) need to be able to talk about dumb things without having it turn philosophical

Asmo

Pros

He’s the best at boosting your confidence, there’s no competition

He’s more into spontaneous outings (he suddenly got the urge to go shopping, your coming with right?)

You can talk about just about anything with him, no judgment and he’ll never speak a word of it to anyone else if you don’t want him to (although he may brag to his brothers that you told him your secrets)

High emotional IQ

Cons

He has set things of things he’s interested in and his idea of trying the things your into is doing whatever it is for about 5 seconds then deciding it’s not for him

He cares a lot about looks, I don’t mean he’ll hate you or insult you cause he thinks your ugly, I mean he’ll constantly try to do your makeup, hair, and nails and he’ll always say things like “Your hair is a bit messy today, did you brush it? Yes? Well not good enough, let me do it” and “your wearing that out? There’s nothing wrong with it, I just think you’d look a lot cuter in this” and if your anything like me, that’ll get on your nerves a lot

While he’s great with emotional issues, if it’s a problem with anything like school or your job he’ll have no solution to offer, all you’ll get is a “You can do it!” and a good luck kiss

Narcissistic, need I say more?

Beel

Pros

He’s the best person to vent to, no judgment and tons of hugs and comfort food

He’s a mom friend, no explanation needed

Very supportive and always concerned for your health

Your in trouble? Call beel, he’ll help you and make sure your home safe before questioning you and will only lecture you out of love (unlike a certain older brother that will lecture you because “Your tarnishing Diavlo’s reputation by acting out like this. Your an exchange student, you must abide by the rules and behave yourself.”)

Cons

Food is his answer to everything (Sad?Food. Injured? Food. School’s stressful? Food plus a little help studying) and while food can be good for comfort, sometimes you need him to provide more than a snack

He’s the opposite of Satan in the sense that he’ll almost never offer advice when you rant to him, he just assumes getting it all out is help enough and won’t offer much more then a hug and food

Not getting along with one of his brothers? “They can be a handful, but they’re great people once you learn to handle the chaos” yeah he rarely thinks what his brothers did is a big deal so he gives you advice on how to apologize and get past it and he’ll give you food

Belphie (he really does attract the mentally ill people huh-)

Cons

I feel like he’d be good for certain people with social anxiety and people who have issues with always being scared about being a bad person (“you think your a bad person and are becoming more and more toxic by the day? Well your a better person than Lucifer that’s for sure, wether or not your toxic were going to cuddle now get in bed” or “your worried everyone is constantly staring and judging you for everything you do? Well I don’t really care about what your wearing or the way you walk so I doubt they do either, can we go home now?” ((Side note, I experience both of these issues and his uncaring personality would calm me, which is why I think this one of his pros))

He just wouldn’t care about whatever type of life style you lead and as someone who’s constantly scared of being judged for their lifestyle this would be amazing (“you sleep all the time? Same let’s nap together” “You don’t eat very healthy? Whatever, it’s fine, can we sleep now?” ((although it is a double edged sword))

He gets a burst of energy and just does the most random things (you see that tree? He’s already climbed half way up it. That petting zoo? He’s already feeding the lambs. That store? He’s already spent 30 grim)

Cons

Just like his twin he thinks every problem has one solution, but instead of food he thinks the solution is sleep (your sick? Sleep is the best medicine. A lot of homework? If you sleep you don’t have to think about it.)

At some point he just doesn’t care enough, if you come to him with a serious issue he’ll half listen to you rant then pull you down to sleep

He teases you a lot, which is fine teasing is fun, but he takes it too far. Maybe he touched on something your insecure about or he was too merciless, whatever it was, he won’t apologize for it, he just thinks your being sensitive. If he brought up some bad memories he’ll consider it, but his way of apologizing is cuddling

He doesn’t wanna do something? You guys aren’t gonna do it. You don’t wanna do something? Too bad, he wants to so your gonna.

I’m sorry this is so long- I tried to shorten it I swear- but anyway if you disagree I’m with anything, I wanna hear what you think

And even tho Beel doesn’t get much screen time and more serious moments, I think his character is way more then hunger

Random but I wanna add that other then Levi I kin Tamaki from mha and Ranpo from bsd

Dude do you just like torturing poor college students? This is so much to read, I’m about to cry 😭

I agree with the Lucifer part actually! Tho I do kinda thing he’s be good emotion support in some ways, for me, anyway. I feel like he may lack empathy that is needed in a stable relationship. Yes, he may be able to tell you with shit and honestly, he’d book my doctors appointments when I’m too anxious too so yknow. But yeah

Also agree with mammon. He’s a jackass when he wants to be, and I know he may not mean it, but his words are still hurtful in a lot of ways and he just can’t convey those emotions that’re needed in a loving relationship. But he’s so sweet and will show you off so it’s all good~

As much as I love Levi, I agree. He manipulates and guilt trips you throughout the entire game. It can’t be healthy in relationships but that don’t stop me from loving that sweet otaku boy 😔🖤

I agree with Satan too. I don’t have much to say but he’s avatar of wrath for a reason, for a start, and he honestly looks like he’d prefer talking about books than that funny thing that happened in class that made you laugh earlier

Agreed with Asmo too. Sometimes he may just get overbearing and the narcissism and the constant need to make you look better and improve you may get irritating

I agree with Beel. I don’t think he can comprehend that food isn’t an answer to everything and as a person who doesn’t cope with food and relatively hates it, he won’t be any help to me emotionally. He’s so sweet but he just won’t give you that proper support

I love Belphie so so much but I absolutely agree. He’s one of the most unbothered brothers who won’t care what you look like, yes, but that also means compliments may come rarely and like his twin, “sleep is the answer to everything” I can admit I like to sleep but I have a manic side that comes with insomnia and if he’s dragging me down and not letting me move and I just cannot sleep, I’m gonna get irritated and pissed off.

This got a bit long on my end too. I just really liked how you worded this and it was fun to see pros and cons of the ‘perfect’ brothers

I think Beel is more than food too, but I just don’t particularly like him either way cuz I’m not really a foodie so I can’t relate with him lmao

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curious-menace · 3 years

Note

Can you do headcanons of any Riddler getting cared for and gentle kisses from reader after getting beat up? He needs some loves.

SO I MAY HAVE SUGGESTED THAT MY ULTIMATE FANTASY IS TO GIVE RIDDLER A HUG WITH BACKRUBS AS HE TELLS ME ABOUT HIS DAY AND I STAND BY THAT WHOLE-HEARTEDLY .

i freaking love this stuff so im going to do all of them mwahahah

post asswoop riddlers getting loves

Arkham riddler

He’s VERY quiet, which knowing him and his inability to stop talking, is bad news.

I paint arkham riddler as a cry baby and i stand by that. this is the hill i will die on. He’ll have dragged his sorry ass into your apartment or house , dripping blood on your floors but he wont bother calling for you. he’ll just sit at the table with his head in his hands having a lil pity party until you find him.

when you do finally get home, he’ll be looking like a kicked puppy. he’s gotten stuck in his own head, mentally beating himself up even more. he got a fright when you came in because he was so caught up he didn't even hear you at the door.

He’s literally sits there like a child with his arms up for you to come scoop him up. he’s not even sure why his first thought after getting beat up was to come here, he’s probably lead the cops here or something and that was so stupid and- you should probably give him a lil soft smooch on the head to stop him before he goes into a spiral.

he needs more emotional and mental care than physical. Talk to him while you're patching him up. any topic, it doesn't matter just keep him focused on your voice and not the one in his head calling him dumb.

he wont admit he wants to be held and coddled after something like this. get your softest blankie and 2 mugs of coco with marshmallows and just ramble at him. tell him about your day or ask him to explain something boring and complicated so he’s focusing on that rather than how upset he is. let him sit on your lap or between your legs on the sofa and watch how its made or mythbusters or something until he falls asleep. he should be ok again in the morning, he doesnt stay down for long.

Blacklight Riddler

He’s used to getting his ass kicked, either by batman, the other rogues or once he’s a PI, by unhappy clients and the people he put away. He might be tiny but he’s pretty tough.

even if he’s really hurting, his probably trying to crack jokes and tell blood and bruise related riddles. He doesn't like to see you worry so even if he’s in a lot of pain or a bit upset about things, he’s trying to make you smile.

he likes kisses on his bruises. even if he just banged his hand on the table he’ll come to you because he wants you to kiss it better.

He’s a decent fighter, unlike a lot of riddlers who couldnt fight their way out of a paper bag. He can throw punches but he lacks in defence and with his bad knee, dodging can be a little hard. even if he wins the fight he’s still likely to need you to patch him up.

He likes kids plasters. like hello kitty and spongebob. no im not joking, he ALWAYS wanted them when he was little and his parents always said no. now he’s an adult he’s going to use them whenever he damn well pleases.

if it was a particularly bad one, he’ll be ok in the moment even if he has to go to hospital. But he’s going to drop the facade at some point and let you see how upset he is. winding up in hospital after being beat was a common occurrence in childhood. even after doing it time and time again as an adult it doesn't make it any easier on him. he’ll want to stay in your bed, be close to you for few days until either he starts to heal or something snaps him out of his funk.

BTAS Riddler

he really prefers other people to do the fighting for him. well physically anyway. he can handle his own arguments...most of the time. He’s going to need you to nurse a bruised ego more than anything. he probably got dunked on my batman or crane and now he’s huffing.

i don't know if this counts as care and kisses but he clearly needs you around to keep his sorry ass alive. he hurt his side in a fight once and said he wasn't hurt. believable... until he started to act a little confused, a little dizzy. needless to say it worried you enough to take him to emergency care.

He was obviously in agony by now but he was still fighting with you the entire drive there, insulting you and insisting he was fine. its a good job you took him when he did, turns out he’d ruptured his spleen and would probably be dead if you weren’t around to act like his common sense.

he still hasnt apologised for that. or any of the other times you insisted on medical care to stop him from pushing up daisies. he just pretends like you know he’s grateful so he doenst have to admit he’s bullheaded, stubborn and worst of all, wrong.

if he has been seriously hurt, he acts more indignant about it than anything. he wants to be waited on and pampered while resting in bed. he can be a genuine pain to deal with, talking about how lucky you are to see him in such a vulnerable state and how you should be grateful he’s letting you do this for him.

He doesn't want to admit how much he actually needs you. his goons wont put up with him when he’s like this and he’s freaking paying them to do it. you do it for free and no matter how annoying he is you havent left him yet. he doesn't tell you but youve noticed he starts getting you more gifts about a week after he’s recovered. like its taken him a day or two to work out he should probably thank you for all you do.

Original Riddler

this riddler is just weird. like he gets a freaking hang nail and he pretends like he’s dying. but he could nearly lose a limb and he’ll say “tis but a scratch” and still try to hobble about like nothing is wrong.

actually he’s more like olaf “oh look i've been impaled.”. he probably tries to laugh off life threatening injuries like its nothing, taking maybe 3 steps before he collapses on his face in a blood puddle and lets out a tiny “help”

good luck moving his tall lanky ass around. better get a gurney and maybe those vets at the zoo who deal with giraffes. seriously if you want to take care of him you are going to need help or some sort of action plan and a go bag because with his limp butt this will not be easy.

he’s kinda like BTAS riddler in that he needs you to tell him the injury is serious. hes not dumb he just has a high pain threshold and genuinely doesn't realise that injuries are as bad as they are.

he can be a bit of a baby while being patched up. he doesn't like a lot of blood or gore, it makes him feel a little sicky. better give him your phone to play with like a kid at the doctors or put the tv on for him to watch while you bandage him. word of warning, he will pass out or throw up if you try to give him stitches.

i think you should focus your love and attention on him AFTER medical care. just focus on the job, be silent and as fast as possible to get it over with quickly. you should probably bring him something sweet too. no not just you, although you are sweet for looking after him. give him something sugary because he’s going to be light headed after seeing any blood. maybe you could give him a lolly for being a good patient.

Telltale riddler

this riddler is essentially a metahuman. he can REALLY take a beating and bounce back fairly quickly. just look how many times batman punched him in the face and it barely stunned him! he doesnt usually need patched up after a fight. maybe just a lil smooch and some hugs

he did really need your help after the whole pact thing. having his friends abandon him hurt like hell, more than any physical injury ever could.

after that, he clings to you. almost obsessively so; we know he’s got some serious mental illnesses but he usually has the worst of it under control, even without meds. now? it seems like he’s experiencing ptsd and is afraid to go anywhere without you, like you might up and disappear if you arent in his line of sight at all times.

i think this riddler might need the most intense care from you. hugs and gentle reassurance wont be enough. you’re going to be responsible for taking him to therapy, keeping him taking his meds and grounding him to reality. this is the kind of responsibility you took on when you got involved with him but i doubt you realised how hard it would be. i cant promise it will all be worth it but i can promise he wont ever forget your kindness.

the kind of care he needs after such a hard knocking down is just stability. im not one for romance or any mushy gushy stuff but please just pour your love into the cracks in this poor mans soul.

its hard going, but he has his moments. his gallows sense of humor is still there and hey, after him being in and out and gone for so long, it might be nice to have him around more.

Zero year riddler

INSUFFERABLE LITTLE SHIT THIS ONE. he could LITERALLY be bleeding out in your arms and he’d STILL be backseat driving on your medical skills. the temptation to just leave him there to bleed is INCREDIBLE.

he’ll drop the act eventually. he’ll ask and maybe even beg for your help. man has no shame and all the self preservation instincts of a lemming. dont get me wrong, he can be a total coward some times, only looking out for himself . but when he’s actually hurt ? not a fuckin clue. does this head wound need an ice pack or heat pack? is this spurring blood wound worthy of medical care? no idea. he was a very sheltered child who never got so much as a bruise so he has no idea what to do when he’s hurt.

he gets the everloving shit kicked out of him on a clockwork basis. like you could hear knocking on your door at 3 am and already be at the table with a first aid kit like oh its tuesday riddler must have broken his nose.

he takes entirely too much joy in making you patch him up. youre starting to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose just to see you in your little apron and latex gloves . he’s getting off on this and you know it but god help you, you just cant resist his dumb face asking for your help and would you also wear this pink nurses outfit while youre at it?

one time he lost a LOT of blood. he would be fine but he was pretty damn loopy from lightheadedness. while you were trying to get him into bed to rest he started flirting with you. can you believe the audacity? he’s lost 3 pints of blood and he’s still more focus on his libido?

he’s actually going to be both humble and grateful for your help when he finally comes round. dont get me wrong, he’s still a bit of a prick but at least he says thank you for saving him before he demands you kiss all his booboos and ouchies.

nonnie i am having a stroke. i was trying SO hard to just pick one but i COULDNT because i am WEAK for hurt and comfort.

theres a reason i have a tag that literally says “i have naughty hands and no self control”

someone needs to stage an intervention

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

From Eden: Two

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: Yo, so here’s part 2! I hope you all enjoy. As before, there is a transcript at the end for anyone having issues with the images.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

I called Dr. Tisha this morning. I told her about the neighbour. She said it was nice of him to help with the garden but ignored me when I mentioned the broken gate. I don’t know if she believed me. It didn’t seem like it.

She’s coming by tomorrow to check on my progress. That means I can’t keep those magazines on the dining table anymore. The last time she made me throw half of them out. She didn’t listen when I told her some were so old they were priceless. Sometimes it feels like she doesn’t listen to me at all. Well, what do I pay her to do then?

I haven’t been back outside. I should water the garden as it’s only getting hotter but I don’t appreciate the unwanted audience. An intruder!

Later

I still haven’t found the courage to venture out. I made sure the bike lock was still in place from the front door. It is. Though, if that man’s metal hand could break the old lock, it will likely shred the chain lock.

Thinking about it makes my heart race. I should go lay down. I’m dizzy and the humidity is making me sick to my stomach. Or maybe it’s something else.

Monday

Dr. Tisha came by early today.

I showed Dr. Tisha where I kept my medicine in the bathroom cabinet, the pills divided into the days. I check off each day on the calendar so I don’t forget either. She said that was good. The last time she was here, it was because I’d stopped taking the pills so I hope this made her happy.

Then she walked through the house, she said she was happy to see the top of the table this time. I laughed but it wasn’t really funny. Then she went to the kitchen and checked all the drawers.

She found some books hidden under the sink and asked if I’d ever read them. I mean to but haven’t yet. She took them to the guest room where she found the bins of books stacked in the corner. Better than last time when they were a pile on the carpet.

She said I have too many things. Too many things that aren’t mine. She says it’s okay to be sad about grandma but that holding onto all her stuff won’t bring her back. Like I don’t know that! I do know! But she left me these things so yes, they are mine.

Then we went to grandma’s old room. It’s the same as it was. As it’s always been. Dr. Tisha frowned and went to my room next.

She asked me about the broken bed frame. I told her it was nothing. I made sure to replace the duvet I’d dragged out the couch to sleep without threat of rolling onto the floor in my sleep. Not that I sleep very much.

She opened my closet and found the magazines. That didn’t impress her either.

We had tea in the kitchen and talked. She asked me how I was feeling. About side effects and all that. Besides the occasional bout of nausea and vivid dreams, I’m fine. She agrees.

Then she asked about the tall shelf of vinyls in the living room. Which one is my favourite? I told her the old Vera Lynn record reminded me of grandma and it was still on the needle.

Then we argued. She wants me to get rid of the ones I don’t listen to. And the magazines in my closet! And she wants me to go through all the books, too.

She also suggested that I think about redecorating. I told her I didn’t want to do any of that. I like the house the way it is. Who is it hurting if I have a few extra books laying around?

She calmed me down after I raised my voice. She made me count my breaths and explained that I don’t have to get rid of everything, just a little. She says it would help with my progress. And, she said, I could probably make a healthy profit off a yard sale.

Well, I don’t care about the money, I don’t want to have a sale. I don’t want to deal with people and them thumbing through grandma’s thing for pennies.

Dr. Tisha said she’ll make some signs and we’ll have the sale on Saturday. My task for the week is to decide what to sell and prices. We argued again but not very long.

When she left, I started crying. Everywhere I look, I see grandma and this place is empty enough without her.

Tuesday

Lorena showed up today.

I gave her my list, it wasn’t very long. She asked about the bike lock and I asked if she could stop by the hardware store and get a new mechanism. She asked me if I even knew how to fix it. I said I’d figure it out.

I told her about Dr. Tisha’s idea for the yard sale. She said it was a great idea. I still don’t agree but she offered to help me sort through the guest room. I shrugged and asked her how long she’d be at the store. She said the usual and left.

I waited by the door. I watched the front gate for her return. She had the combination to the bike lock now and could let herself in. I just wanted her to come back and drop everything off so I could be alone.

When she did return, she wasn’t alone. I saw her at the gate, fumbling with the lock. As the gate shifted open, a metal arm reached past her to push it all the way. The man held a paper bag in his other arm as Lorena carried the other.

He was smiling as he spoke to her and let her pass. He followed her to the door and he saw me before I could back away from the slated window in the door.

“Open up,” Lorena called as she tapped the door.

I didn’t know what else to do but open the door. When I did she handed me her bag and reached for the one the man held.

“Sorry, but… I can’t let you inside.” She said glumly. “But thanks for the help.”

“No problem.” He glanced past her and I tried to hide behind her but he’s taller than her. He’s very big up close. “You have a great day. Both of you.”

“You, too.” Lorena said and he strode away.

When the gate clattered closed I waited until I was sure he was gone. I dropped my bag and rushed to check the lock. He’d secured it. Good.

I went back to the house and locked the door too. Lorena already had both bags on the table.

“He didn’t mean any harm,” She said as she unpacked the groceries. “He was just helping me so I figured--”

“You shouldn’t have let him in.” I told her.

“He was only in the yard. He didn’t come into the house.”

“I could have helped you.” I said.

“When’s the last time you went past the gate?” She asked as she pulled out a small plastic bag and slid it across to me. It was the new lock. “That should fit, if you can figure it out.”

“That’s not the point, Lor,” You slapped the table. “You let him into my space. A stranger!”

“He’s your neighbour. I’ve talked to Dr. Tisha and you know you’re supposed to be working on your socialising. This yard sale will be a good first step.”

“This yard sale is bull shit,” I was so angry I could have yelled. “I like being alone. I like it here. This is my home and these are my things!”

“Calm down.” She set down the carton of milk and neared me. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I should’ve asked before I let him past the gate.”

I felt so tired. Suddenly weak, like the air had been let out of me. I felt bad for being so mad with her after she went all the way to town for me.

“I’m sorry I got upset.”

She forgave me and I forgave her. She convinced me to fill one bin for the sale before the end of the day. She left shortly after. Her and Shelby are going to see a movie. I’m watching one too. An old black and white movie Grandma had on her shelf of cassettes. It’s interesting but the edges are fuzzy and the audio is muffled.

Oh, well, I’m tired. And I’ll be sleeping on the couch anyway.

Wednesday

I tried to fix the lock today. I haven’t been outside that long since last week. The garden needs to be watered.

I took out grandma’s old toolbox, the tools half-rusted but intact. I got what was left of the old lock off easily but the new one was more of a task to get in. I had to open the gate to get it in. The holes for the screw were off-kilter but I couldn’t turn the lock enough to get them to line up.

Then he showed up. That man. Bucky. The lock slipped out as he scared me and my screw driver hit my shoe. My toe still hurts.

“You need some help?” He asked.

I shook my head and tried to close the gate on him but he was already picking up the mechanism and screwdriver.

“I can do it.” I sound like a dying mouse. I reached for the lock but he didn’t even seem to notice. “Hold the door steady and I’ll just--”

“I can do it myself,” I said louder but he still didn’t seem to hear me. Or chose not to.

He reached around the gate and pulled it closer to him. I grabbed the bars and he slid the lock into place. His metal fingers shifted it and aligned the holes.

“Do you have the screws?” He asked.

I found the box on the bunch of rocks just beside the gate. I handed him each long screw and he easily twisted them into place.

“There ya go,” He gave the screwdriver back and smiled.

I closed the gate, as good as pushing him out of the yard. He let me but looked confused. I took the key from the box and slid it in the slot. I turned it and the click slowed my racing heart.

“I still don’t know your name,” He said.

I didn’t tell him and left him there. You think he’d get the clue.

Thursday

It’s not even 5am. I woke up in a sweat. The fan is dead and the house has grown stolid, even as the night air slips through the open window.

I thought I’d closed it more but it is wide open and the power is out. There is an eerie silence as the buzz of the fridge is entirely gone and the house is pitch black.

I swear I saw something move in the window. Maybe a bird?

I tried to get back to sleep but it’s too hot. I guess I’ll just sit and wait for the sun to rise. It’s already starting to.

I want to go out in the garden today. I just hope that man doesn’t bother me again. I hope the lock is still in place.

Friday

Well, yesterday was fine. The power came back on at noon as I watered the garden and trimmed some overgrown plants. The freesias had grown despite my neglect.

Today was just as boring. I read at the patio table for a while but then the phone started ringing. Dr. Tisha was checking in. She said she put the signs up yesterday and hoped the turn out would be good. She asked me how much I got done. I lied and said a lot.

Now I’m going to go sort through the guest room and toss a few records on top to get her off my back. I guess I’ll just have to hide under the table tomorrow.

Saturday

Everytime I think I’m doing better, it all goes so bad!

Dr. Tisha and Lorena arrived early to set up the yard sale. They unfolded a table just inside the gate, leaving it wide open, and helped me arrange everything on top of it. I was nervous and tired. I didn’t sleep very much.

I waited nervously and the first customer showed up. Gladys, an old friend of Grandma’s. She bought an old pin cushion and the Miles Davis record. I should have kept that.

I watched mostly as Dr. Tisha and Lorena took the money and helped people, both familiar and not.

Dr. Tisha made me introduce myself to them at least. I hated it but they were mostly friendly. A woman with two children, I think she said her name was Essie? She said she liked my shirt. That was nice.

But then he showed up! I ignored him at first as he played with the ornamental cowbell. He took that and a few records from the table. He didn’t even seem to notice Dr. Tisha or Lorena as he came to me.

I kept my head down as I lined up the thimbles beside the painted sewing box.

“How much for the records?” He asked.

I didn’t say anything and went to the other end of the table. He followed and I turned back and went back to the other end again. He followed me. Again.

“Now,” Tisha stopped me. “What are you doing? He asked you a question.”

I looked up and blinked dumbly. “What? I didn’t-- I was--”

“Bucky,” Lorena greeted him as she neared. “Tisha, this is the neighbour who helped with the groceries the other day.”

“Oh, hello,” She held out her hand as she blocked me from getting away. “I’m Tisha.”

She introduced me then and told me like a child to say hello. I did, quietly.

“Are you… the one who gave her the flowers?” Tisha asked.

“I did.” He smiled. “But I guess she already has enough.”

“She’s shy,” Tisha lowered her voice. “She’s working on it. Now,” she turned to me, “how much do you want for the records… and bell?”

I didn’t know what to say. The man watched me and I felt as if I would melt.

“Come on.” Tisha poked me. “We talked about this, right? This is your sale.”

“Ten dollars each,” I doubled the price. “And twenty for the bell.”

“That’s a bit pricey,” Lorena said. I shrugged.

“Sounds fair to me,” The man took out his wallet as he leaned the record on the table beneath the bell and used his leg to keep it from falling. “I’ve never listened to these bands before and I’m trying to expand my library.”

He held out the money. Tisha had to elbow me to get me to take it. I snatched it from him and counted it. Another elbow as Lorena kept me from turning away.

“Thank you,” I said to him.

“I hope you enjoy the records,” Tisha offered gently before she pulled me aside.

She took me closer to the house as Lorena watched the table. She lowered her voice. “What’s going on?” She asked.

“Nothing.” I lied.

“Nothing? Why were you so rude to him?”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t know him.” She insisted.

“I don’t want to.”

“Look, I know you’re uneasy around men, but he was nice. And he’s your neighbour. You’ll be seeing a lot of him so I think you should at least try to be friendly. And remember what I said about friends?”

“My only friend is dead.”

I was so upset I ran inside. And now I’m locked in my room, waiting for them all to just go away.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #from eden #agoraphobia #mcu #marvel

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brelione · 4 years

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Just Wanna Be Happy (Pope HeywardxReader)

Warnings:Mentions of self harm,depression,medication,suicide.Please do not read if youre triggered by these topics.This wasnt written to glamorize mental illness this is kind of just my coping mechanism because I just got out of a depressing period.Depression effects people differently but this fanfic has ways that its effected me so yeah.

You had never been a very social person.Or a friendly person or even a happy person.You kind of just existed without purpose or reason.Its not like you didnt want to be happy because of course you did.It just wasnt something that could come naturally to you in your everyday life.It was summer and you had hardly left your house at all.Most time was spent in your room.It had been days since you had showered or brushed your hair or even changed your clothes.You hadnt done you laundry in weeks or eaten a proper meal in days.You were an absolute mess since you had stopped taking your medication.You didnt know why but you just couldnt bring yourself to take them anymore.You felt guilty for not replying to any of your friends messages.

“Hey :) do you wanna hang out with us tomorrow?”Read Tuesday 9:48 PM. “Hey have you been taking your meds?Your mom wanted me to check up on you :)”Read at 1:48 PM today.

Your mom was staying with family in California this summer to work on a book.She would transfer ten dollars to your bank account everyday.You hadnt spent any of it.She had sent you countless texts to ask how you were doing or if you had gotten your refill.Your skin was dull from not seeing the sun,the hair on your legs had grown long and prickly and you smelt like absolute shit.You heard a knock at your door,the sound echoing through your empty house.You worked up the strength to get up,dragging your feet as you walked.You felt dizzy and nauseous as you walked,couldnt even feel your feet touching the ground.Your kitchen was an absolute mess,frying pan with maple syrup stuck to it and the sink full of dirty smelling dishes.You opened the door,blocking your eyes from the sun to see Pope.

He let out a sigh of relief,pulling you into a hug. “God (Y/N)!You cant do that!Jesus,I thought you died.”He sighed,squeezing you tightly.You didnt bother hugging back,letting your head rest against him. “I was getting worried about you-its been like two weeks since you’ve talked to me.”He grumbled,pulling away from the hug and observing your face.You had a couple of pimples across your forehead from not washing your face,your skin was splotchy and your eyes puffy. “Have you been taking your meds?”He asked.You didnt answer,watching as he walked over to the cabinet to pull out the orange pill bottle.It was still half full.He looked at the date that it was supposed to be refilled.Two days ago. “You have to take these every day!”He exclaimed.You sighed,not really caring.THis wasnt what you needed to hear right now.You didnt exactly know what you needed to hear but that was definitely not it.

“When was the last time you showered?”He asked.You shrugged,not remembering.All the days had merged together.You slept a lot even when you didnt need it.The only time you really got up was to use the bathroom or vomit into your trash bin. “And the last time you ate?”He asked.You mumbled that you werent sure,embarrassed that someone had seen you in this state.He turned on your shower,letting the room get steamy from the hot water.He went into your messy room,making his way through the piles of crumpled paper and dirty clothing to your dresser.He grabbed you a new pair of underwear,a sportsbra,a loose t shirt and some comfy looking shorts.He assisted you in getting your hair out of the bun it was in,letting the snagglt knots loose. “I’m going to make you some food,okay?”You nodded.He closed the bathroom door.

You pulled off your dirty clothes,nearly gagging at the smell of yourself.You stepped into the shower,letting the burning hot water touch your back and head.You poured a fistfull of conditioner in your hair to try and help with the knots.You sat down,closing your eyes and letting the conditioner rinse out.You poured at least a fourth of the bottle of shampoo into your hair,scrubbing your scalp aggressively.You used the suds from the shampoo to wash under your arms and your back.You used the same suds in replacement of shaving cream to shave your legs only up to your knee.The water was going cold but you didnt care,laying down and letting the water smack your stomach.Pope knocked at the door before opening it. “(Y/N)?You okay?”He asked.You sat up,eyes still shut as you turned off the water. “I made you some frozen waffles.”He informed you before closing the door again.

You waited until all of the water went down the drain until you stood up,slowly stepping onto the bath mat.At least you didnt smell so disgusting now.What really worried you was brushing your hair out mostly because you knew it would hurt and half your hair would most likely fall out.You grabbed a towel,rubbing down your body.You had some faded scars on your thighs and calves but none on your wrist.Mainly because you knew no one would check your legs.It had been five months since you harmed yourself and you were proud.You probably would’ve relapsed eventually if you were even able to work up the energy to do it.You groaned as you saw the pimples on your face,grabbing your face wash that you hadnt used in so long.You scrubbed your face,rinsing the soap off and patting your skin dry.

You looked back up at the mirror.You could barely recognize yourself.You looked like a deformed radiation exposed raccoon.You saw the clothes Pope had picked for you,pulling them on over your damp skin.You slowly brushed your teeth,blood leaking from your gums as you did so.You dragged yourself out of the bathroom,the cold air of the kitchen hitting you.Pope wa sitting at your kitchen table.A plate of eggos sat on a paper plate,a cup of water sitting in front of it. “I’ll go grocery shopping for you later.”He offered as you sat down.You shook your head. “No...its fine.”You answered as you stared down at the plate. “You dont have anything to eat here.Let me go grocery shopping and cook for you.”He spoke softly,taking a pill from your prescription bottle and holding it in his palm.

“Can you please eat so you can take this?”He asked.You took a bite of the eggo,wanting nothing more than to spit it out into the garbage.You chewed it to mush and swallowed,looking back at him. “Good.”He handed you the pill. “I dont want to take this.”You told him.He sighed,nodding. “I know,I know you dont but it’ll make you feel better.”He told you.You dipped your head back,dropping the pill in your mouth and sipping the water. “All I want is to be happy….why is that so much to ask for?”You grumbled,looking down at your cup.He reached out for your hand,rubbing his thumb along your palm. “You’ll be happy one day.If you take your medicine and make your environment better you’ll feel better.”He had probably read that bullshit in some book.You rolled your eyes. “What does that even mean?”You asked.You placed his hand over yours,tapping his nails against your fingertips. “Just let me take care of you until your mom gets back,alright?”He asked.You hummed,too tired to argue.

He grabbed your hairbrush and a bottle of detangler from your bathroom and got to work on your hair.It didnt hurt too bad and he was careful with your hair almost like it was precious gold. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”He asked.You shrugged but followed him to your living room.It was the one room besides your mothers that you hadnt completely fucked up.He went on Disney Plus and allowed you to flick through the titles until you found something you liked.You chose Inside Out.He grinned at you,kissing your forehead before disappearing into your room.He picked up the clothes off your floor and assumed they were dirty,tossing them into your washing machine.

He stuffed your trash bin full of all the paper and random trash on your floor.He grabbed the stacks of plates,forks and molding mugs from you floor and on top of your dresser.He did a load of dishes,switching your clothes from your washer to your dryer.You had fallen asleep on the couch with the movie still on.He made your bed for you,killing a few bugs that had been hiding under all of the trash.He called his dad. “Pope?You okay?” “mhm..yeah.Um...im gonna be away from home for a while.” “What-no the hell you’re not.” “Dad-” “No-what am I gonna do with all these grocery deliveries?” “Dad-Its (Y/N).” Silence. “Is she….uhh..” “No-no.She’s been off her meds and i think someones gotta be here to take care of her while her moms out of town.” “Alright...just be careful with her.”The call ended.Pope sighed as he looked at your room.It was much much cleaner now that he was done with it.

He sat down on the couch next to your sleeping figure,paying attention to the movie in front of him.You sat up tiredly,wrapping your arms around his torso and moving him so you could rest your head on his tummy. “I think thats whats happening to me.”You spoke,gesturing to the TV.Joy and Sadness had just left the headquarters which left only fear,anger and disgust.He nodded,understanding what you were trying to tell him. “Maybe.”He replied.You sighed,tracing circles onto his skin through his shirt. “I wanna learn how to be happy...it might take a while but I just wanna be happy,you know?”You asked.He hummed,moving his arms so he was holding you. “I’ll help anyway I can.”He promised,stroking your hair lightly.

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the-real-tc · 3 years

Text

Fic UPDATE! Wide River to Cross: Chapter 23

A.N.: This chapter took way longer to churn out than I expected, and there will be another update very shortly. We're moved into Episode 713 territory now, so you know that means things are getting even closer to where they are supposed to be. Enjoy!

Chapter 23: Chance Encounter

The drive back from Moose Jaw on Tuesday was its usual eight-hour, mind-numbing slog for Tim Fleming. Shane and Miranda seemed to be doing fine without him, though something in his gut warned Tim there was something going on neither of them wished to speak of in his presence. The visit started off on a positive note. Shane excitedly asked about Pal before politely moving on to inquiring about his half-sisters. By the actual Thanksgiving Monday, Tim knew he was wearing out his welcome, as if Miranda could not wait to be rid of him. Yes, it was true they had called it quits, but there was a distant air about her that Tim could not put his finger on. When he mentioned he would like to come out in a month for the Remembrance Day holiday, he was met with a non-committal sort of answer, but not an outright "no". Shane's sullen resentment over the absence of a father-figure in his life was still brewing beneath the surface. Tim recognized the signs; he just had no idea what to do about it, especially since Miranda was apparently hedging about the next time he could visit his son. How was he supposed to be a father to Shane if he was not even permitted to see him on a regular basis?

By the time Tim reached Hudson, he was exhausted both physically and emotionally. He had half a mind to drop in at Heartland and stick around long enough to invite himself to dinner, but he was not in the mood to hear Jack complain about the sheep again, which he was sure to do. Instead, Tim pulled into the local McDonald's Drive-thru and ordered something he knew he would barely taste, but would otherwise tide him over until the next day. On Wednesday morning, Tim regretfully realised he was completely out of supplies and would need to head into town for groceries.

He was still contemplating what to do about convincing Miranda to allow him to visit again in a month's time while grabbing some steaks from a refrigerated shelf in the Deli section. Maybe the boy could come out to Heartland instead, Tim pondered. After all, Shane was still obviously interested in riding Pal. Amy and Lou would be happy to see their half-brother, of course. Tim also had a feeling Shane and Georgie would get along just fine, if given the chance.

What would he think about Tricia? Tim suddenly wondered as he mechanically loaded his groceries into his truck before starting the drive back to Big River.

What would Tricia think about Shane?

When is the right time to tell her about my "illegitimate" son?

Are we serious enough for that yet?

Those thoughts quickly fled as Tim did a double-take at the unexpected sight of an oddly familiar auburn-haired woman. She stood at the bank of green community mailboxes on the side of the rural road, unaware of his scrutiny. The presence of her nearby silver-grey Porsche SUV confirmed it: the usually blonde Lisa Stillman had returned to Hudson. Tim pulled his truck to a stop—he simply had to get the low-down on this. Lisa was the last person he expected to see here, especially after Lou bought back her share of the Dude Ranch so many months ago. Jack's continued silence on Lisa's whereabouts and the status of their relationship compelled Tim to approach. After all, Lisa was godmother to his granddaughter Katie. It would be impolite to drive past her without a word, he reasoned.

"Hey, Lisa!" he called when he was within earshot.

Her shoulders jerked slightly, causing Tim to feel slightly guilty for startling her when he caught the stunned expression on her face. She recovered in time to respond, though somewhat hesitantly. "Oh. Hi, Tim!" she called back with forced brightness. Her smile, too, was forced.

"Wow, I didn't expect to see you back in town," Tim said as he neared. "How ya been? How was France?"

"Busy. I've been really busy," she replied hastily, closing her mailbox door and snapping the lock shut before stuffing her envelopes into a side pocket. "Um, France was fine. Sorry I can't stay and chat. I just got back from dropping off my sister at the airport, and I've still got lots to do today. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with someone in less than half an hour."

"Your sister was visiting?" Tim echoed. "Huh. That's nice. Don't think I've ever met her. The appointment wouldn't happen to be with Jack would it?"

Lisa's spirits sank at the mention of the man she loved but was avoiding. She wondered if Tim did it on purpose—honing right in on a person's vulnerable spot and then exposing it.

"Uh, no. No, I'm not meeting Jack," Lisa's voice faltered.

"Then who are you meeting?" Tim pressed.

Lisa felt cornered now. Knowing the news would eventually get out, anyway, she decided to be straight with the man. "A real estate agent," she answered testily. "I've put Fairfield on the market."

Tim's face betrayed mild surprise. Wow, he thought. She really is making that move to France permanent. "You're selling Fairfield. Whoa. Does Jack know about this?"

Lisa exhaled. "Jack knows I love France," she eventually responded as she averted her glance. "I tried to share that part of my life with him, but it didn't work. He hates France, and there's no changing that fact. It's best I make a clean break. For now, he doesn't even know I'm in Hudson, and I'd like to keep it that way, please. So don't tell him you saw me, okay?"

Despite not quite receiving a straight answer to his question, Tim nevertheless made a zipping motion across his lips. "O-kay."

"You promise you will not tell him I'm here?" Lisa said, eyeing him now with skepticism.

"I promise I will not tell Jack you're here, Lisa," Tim proclaimed, raising his hand in a Scout salute.

"Good. Thank you," she said, making her move back to the Porsche. "Now, I really have to go. Take care, Tim. 'Bye."

"Yeah, 'bye," Tim said, absently securing his hat on his head.

Without bothering to look back at him, Lisa raised a hand in a farewell gesture as she climbed into the driver's seat.

Tim called out: "But you are gonna tell him eventually, right?"

The motor roaring to life drowned out the question, causing Tim to frown. Aw, man. Something's gotta be done about those two before it's too late, he thought. I just need to figure out what.

Lisa pulled away from the mailboxes in a daze. Now that Tim had seen her, it was only a matter of time before Jack found out she was in Hudson. Of all the people I had to run into, why did it have to be Tim Fleming?! she fretted. And once Jack does find out, what will I do? Guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.

The real estate agent warned Lisa from the outset her asking-price was high, given the current slump in the market. While she knew this, it was a tactic she hoped to use to her advantage. It was intended to weed out a bulk of potential buyers who would only waste her time. Genuinely interested buyers would be savvy enough to try to negotiate a lower selling price they would both be comfortable with. Lisa was ready to play that game. Besides, if someone did agree to the initial price, the agent stood to make a fantastic commission.

There would be no way to hide the signs or the real estate listing, of course, so even if she never laid eyes on Jack, he would eventually find out about the sale. She was plagued with feelings of guilt. Was it really fair to avoid him? How difficult would it be to make a quick call to say: "Hi, I've returned to Hudson to sell the old place. Thanks for the good times we had; I'm moving to France for good."

Very difficult indeed.

Those thoughts were quickly dismissed when Lisa reached Fairfield and business concerns once again consumed her mental energies. Among those concerns was the sale of Cinders, a horse for which Lisa felt an uncommon fondness due to his resemblance to her long-ago cherished Silver. Riding Cinders out to Lookout Point every morning was part of her daily routine when in Hudson, so she was reluctant to part with the animal. I have Indigo back in Toulon for my morning ride, Lisa thought practically, knowing one fewer horse to transport to France could be good for cost-saving in the long run.

A buyer from Montana was interested; Lisa was awaiting the finalization of that sale before booking transport. Three other horses would be going to buyers in Alberta; two to British Columbia, and one to Saskatchewan. That left several other horses that might eventually need to be auctioned, including the pregnant Rhapsody. The broodmare's pregnancy and the subsequent weaning process once the foal arrived meant travel any time soon would be ill-advised, so having her remain in Canada to be sold made sense.

The clone of Fairfield Flyer—when it arrived—was still a question mark. Dan seemed overly confident it would help them make their mark once they launched their breeding business overseas. Lisa was more cautious and hesitant about the whole idea; in time, maybe she would feel differently about the situation, as her sister Rachel had predicted.

And I'm still quite angry Dan did it, Lisa realised, almost feeling her blood pressure rising just thinking about the whole mess. Why am I even still in business with him? The answer she always arrived at whenever she pondered that question was that they still made good business partners, despite their failed marriage. This time, though, Lisa wondered whether business success in partnership with Dan was a good enough reason.

I have spent more than half my life doing this, Lisa said to herself. I've achieved a lot in that time. I would like to think I have made my father proud of the 'Fairfield' name. That alone should be worth it, right? And it's like I told Rachel: the money I've earned has made it possible to realise a lot of dreams, do things I wanted to do, and see the world. But at the end of the day, I go home to an empty house. What dreams am I chasing now? I always dreamed of retiring to France. And then Jack came into my life.

Lisa reflected fondly on that day at Heartland when she encountered Jack at the Open House barbecue. Amy had just awed the crowd by showing off her work with Promise, and with the way she had risen to Val Stanton's seemingly impossible, impromptu challenge to fix the hundred-thousand-dollar horse that refused to jump.

"You're doing a really good job with her, Jack," Lisa recalled telling him. What she didn't tell him was that she had inquired discreetly about his fifteen-year-old granddaughter after being impressed by her during their first meeting at Fairfield. Since Nick Harwell had sung Amy's praises regarding her work with Star, Lisa called him up. She hoped to find out a little more about this Amy Fleming, daughter of the late Marion Fleming. She had a vague recollection hearing about Marion and Heartland since returning to Hudson from the 'States. Even so, she had at least known of the existence of 'Heartland Ranch' in the same sort of familiar way Hudsonites would know of the existence of any other ranch in the area.

"I read in the Hudson Times about Marion Fleming's passing and how Amy's grandfather is a rodeo legend," Lisa had told Nick during their conversation. "What else should I know about this family?"

"Yes, Jack Bartlett is pretty well-known for his rodeo days. And Marion... Marion was something else," Nick had stated. "And I really think Amy has the gift, too. What did you think of her?"

"It's too early to tell," Lisa had replied honestly, "but I like her spunk. I had my reservations about Promise going under the care of a fifteen-year-old, but she won some points with me. She set me straight when she told me her mother didn't 'whisper' to horses; she listened to them."

Nick had chuckled. "Whatever you want to call it, Marion sure worked magic with horses, and Amy can, too. You just have to sit back and let the magic happen."

"How is Heartland Ranch doing?" Lisa then inquired. "Are they going to be okay without Marion working with troubled horses? That was their main source of income, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure," Nick replied with a sigh. "Jack does have a herd of cattle, but it's small. His adult granddaughter Lou is back in town from New York to help, but who knows how long she plans to stay... And Jack's wife, Lyndy, died a few years ago. I heard through the grapevine Amy and Lou's dad is a rodeo legend too, but he's also a total deadbeat. So now Jack has got to raise Amy by himself. It's not going to be easy for them. I do believe Amy has her mother's gift, but she's still so young to be taking on the 'family business', if you know what I mean. Jack has his work cut out for him."

"Yes, I guess he does," Lisa had remarked thoughtfully, imagining an elderly man all of a sudden saddled with a responsibility he did not anticipate in the wake of his daughter's tragic death.

To see Jack Bartlett in the flesh was a revelation. The man was nowhere near the 'elderly' grandfather Lisa had envisioned after speaking with Nick. He was tall, fit, and grizzled with irregular features, yet handsome in an unconventional way she found attractive. She would almost have guessed he was Amy's father had she not known any better. So this was the man who was taking care of his teenaged granddaughter. This was the man who had clearly taken the responsibility very seriously, and was succeeding at the task despite the burden of loss and heartbreak. This man, a salt-of-the-earth type, exuding quiet confidence and strength—this man she simply had to get to know better.

He was the first man in a very long time Lisa felt the urge to flirt with; the first man she felt comfortable sending out signals she wanted to know him on a deeper level. Their first real conversation was brief. She paid him a compliment about the burgers he was grilling up, then added she thought he was doing a great job with Amy. She mentioned her own situation with taking on her nephew following his parents' divorce. As they parted company that evening, she brushed her shoulder against his after his offer to help with Ben, hoping the message was received.

Bringing up those old memories of the weeks and months that followed the Open House was bittersweet. Back then, it was Immediately clear to Lisa that Jack was nothing remotely resembling a social butterfly. He was never at any of the parties she attended, nor was he known to folks in her Hudson social circles. She would have to ferret out what his interests were and meet him at that level if she wanted to get closer to him. Lisa would be forever grateful to Maggie for suggesting Amy have a look at the traumatized Gallant Prince, as it provided more opportunities to visit Heartland—and to see Jack.

And then I asked him to accompany me to that auction... and his truck broke down.

It was a deviation in her plan she had not expected, but rolled with it by suggesting they eat right then instead of after the sale. They discussed nothing of consequence during that interlude while they ate turkey-and-swiss sandwiches, but Lisa enjoyed every minute of it.

"Aren't you something?" Jack had asked, clearly not expecting anything like this when she told him she made coffee for him; that she had planned a picnic treat from the very beginning.

The early fall weather was pleasant, a soft breeze fluttering through the leaves of the trees that surrounded them. She seldom had a chance to pause like this, sitting in the company of just one other person, undisturbed by the rest of the world. He complimented her on the coffee, subtly making her realise he had strong opinions about the beverage. Time slipped away much too quickly. After a particularly long stretch of silence between them after the last of the coffee had been drunk, Jack finally spoke up: "Well, I guess I should probably see if that old truck of mine is ready to start. Can't have you missing that auction, can we?"

Reluctantly, they tidied up and trekked back to the stalled vehicle. It started without complaint, bearing them safely to High River for the auction. Lisa mentally skipped over the part when they encountered Dan, knowing what she knew now about how he had the temerity to tell Jack she was still his wife. Lisa remembered her acute disappointment upon discovering Jack had abandoned her there without a word. Something about that scenario did not sit right with her, as she was quite certain he had enjoyed their picnic.

Perhaps another woman might have dismissed him for that perceived slight, Lisa reasoned, but I knew I couldn't let him go that easily. Fortunately, a good friend she ran into at the close of the auction was willing to give her a lift to Heartland so she could retrieve her Porsche. At the time, she was tempted to knock on Jack's door to demand an explanation, but something told her that would be the wrong move. Let this thing play out, she remembered thinking. Let him come to you when he's ready.

And the explanation did come out, confirming for Lisa she made the right choice by not blowing the situation out of proportion, though she had every right to be upset. Handling it with a dose of humour had de-escalated what could have been a very uncomfortable situation. After all, Dan had just sourly peeled out of Heartland, having been told off by Jack, and after being rebuffed by Lisa.

"Well, since men keep driving away on me, would you mind driving me home in your truck, please?" she remembered asking with a smile and a good-natured chuckle. Of course Jack had not minded one bit. She had noticed the look of gradual, earnest relief on his face once he realised she was not married to Dan any longer; that she had not been playing with his emotions or leading him on.

"Jack, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding with my EX-husband," she said contritely during that ride back to Fairfield. "He had no right to do that, and I want to make it very clear I—"

And he had broken in gently then, telling her she had no need to apologize; that he was the one that needed to do the apologizing for abandoning her at the auction.

"Hmm," she had said playfully. "I suppose you have a plan in mind about how you're going to make it up to me?"

"Well, as a matter of fact... I was wondering..."

After a few seconds of tense silence, he had asked if he could have the pleasure of her company at his private cabin in a few weeks' time. She could tell it took some effort on his part to ask the question, but she readily accepted his invitation to try a little fly fishing, despite the lateness of the season, as he told her.

"I would love to, Jack," she had replied, grinning from ear to ear, thinking this reconciliation had gone miles better than she hoped.

Maggie had helped her pick out all the requisite equipment after she realised she would actually need hip waders and rods for the date. Expensive hobby, she remembered thinking when her friend rang up all the purchases at the cash register.

"I'd better catch something, huh?" she had ruefully asked.

"I think you already did," Maggie had quipped.

At the time, the meaning of those words had not been lost on Lisa. Now, after all the time since those early days when they were still practically strangers, Lisa wondered if he was still on the line, or if Jack had pulled loose. Severed from her life, he would be pulled away from her shore, lost to the currents of the passing world.

Despite never using the equipment again since that first date, Lisa had never availed herself of Maggie's promise of a refund.

I always hoped we would go fishing together again, Lisa mused. Why is it we never did? Maybe it's high time I got rid of all that stuff; I certainly won't be doing much fly fishing in France.

Lisa shook her head slightly, knowing she had to cease thinking about such matters and concentrate instead on getting her Fairfield business in order. As if on cue, her office line rang, its call display revealing a Montana area code.

Looks like I have an answer about Cinders, she rightly guessed.

"Lisa, hi! It's Wayne Mosley. I'll make this call short and sweet: We have a deal on your horse. I can have the funds wired to you today."

"That's great, Wayne," Lisa replied, squelching the sentiment that unexpectedly sprang up at the thought she was really going to be parting with the animal for good. "I can get transport booked for Cinders as early as Sunday."

"Perfect. Thanks, Lisa."

"You're welcome. Glad we were able to work something out."

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you. Take care. 'Bye."

"Likewise, Wayne. 'Bye."

Lightning almost as bright as day flashed, visible even through Lisa's closed eyelids. That alone might have been enough to awaken her, but the following crash of ear-splitting thunder made it impossible to remain in the land of dreams.

Lisa rolled over in bed, gradually becoming aware of the fact of the storm raging outside. When she cracked open an eye to check the time on the bedside digital clock, she could barely make out a blank display screen.

Have we lost power? she wondered groggily. Another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the bedroom. Her ears picked up on the wind-driven rains beating against the windowpanes. A quick glance outside confirmed Hudson had indeed lost power. Seconds later, the Fairfield generators kicked in, bringing to life the security lights outside. The numbers on the clock now blinked '12:00' a.m. in a rhythmic pattern, its green glow a slight irritant.

With a sigh, Lisa let her head fall back onto one of the many the pillows scattered about the mattress. Installing those generators had come at some expense, but she was grateful for them now and in times past when an outage occurred. She listened to the sounds of the storm, unable to fall back asleep quite yet. Some of the horses in the stables would be restless, and she wondered if Rhapsody was okay, given her expectant state.

Harry and the rest of the hands are going to be dealing with a few grumpy, skittish equines in the morning, she thought as she finally sat up to re-set the time on the clock after consulting her iPhone.

The lightning flashes were less frequent now; the answering thunder a distant rumble. The storm was either moving on or its intensity petering out.

Oh, no. Things are going to be a mess out there tomorrow, this new thought entered her mind, as it dawned on her the power loss was probably caused by downed tree branches. The trees around Fairfield were never spared damage in such instances in the past. The real estate agent would expect the property to be in pristine condition if there were going to be any showings.

Better call the landscaping company first thing... It was the last thought she remembered thinking before drifting off again.

Clean-up the morning after the storm that knocked out power at Heartland occupied a fair chunk of the Bartlett-Fleming-Morris family's time. Branches lay haphazardly about the yard. Piles of scattered leaves and twigs littered the ground, blown off by the earlier violent winds.

Tim pulled up in his truck uncharacteristically early to lend a hand, though he certainly had ulterior motives. Lisa made me promise not to tell Jack she was back in town. She didn't make me promise not to tell anyone else, though... He approached Amy, hoping to determine if Jack was wise to the situation of Lisa's return to Hudson.

"Guess who I saw in town yesterday?" he asked his daughter, unable to keep a lid on the information bubbling up to the surface.

The surprise that registered on Amy's face told him everything: Poor Jack was clueless.

Lisa's backside smarted. That's going to leave a bruise, she thought ruefully as she checked herself over for any other potential injuries after being unceremoniously dumped to the damp ground by Cinders. But no, every other part of her body seemed just fine. No broken bones or sprains, thank God. That's the last thing I would need right now just as I'm trying to get things sorted out at Fairfield. Now where has that horse trotted off to, and what the heck happened?

Lisa's brow creased as she recalled a sudden uncomfortable, intense buzzing sensation right before being tossed from the saddle. Her eyes sought and quickly spotted something that confirmed a dim suspicion: a downed tree tangled up with the line from an electrical fence erected around the slough Cinders had stepped into.

So that's what that shock was, Lisa realised.

"Cinders!" she called, hoping the sound of her voice would bring the horse back. It was usually an exercise in futility; Cinders was not trained to come when beckoned as a pet dog might. A careful inspection of the sod around her revealed hoof prints.

I hope that horse hasn't gone too far, Lisa thought in irritation. In truth, she was more annoyed at herself for not noticing the downed line. Fortunately, she spotted the dappled grey horse not too far away, pulling at some vegetation.

"Hey, you," Lisa softly chided as she approached him with deliberate caution. "What was that all about? Did you get spooked by that silly electric fence?"

Cinders seemed to bristle slightly when she neared, but he did not refuse when she took hold of his bridle. "Let's go home, huh?" she said, placing her right foot into the stirrup to mount up. With a squeeze of her calves, Lisa cued the horse to begin the return the way they came. Ahead, she could see the muddy banks of the slough along with the energizer and tangle of electrical wiring and branches.

Everything about the ride seemed normal until they were a few feet away from the water. Cinders stiffened as soon as he sighted the pond, stopping dead in his tracks. He balked when Lisa urged him on again; a snort of terror issued from his nostrils before he reared up in protest.

"Whoa, whoa!" Lisa called out, barely avoiding another fall as she regained her balance. "What's the matter with you?"

Without being commanded to do so, the horse backed away, giving his head a few contrary shakes.

"Come on, Cinders," Lisa coaxed, applying more pressure to his sides with her legs. She clicked her tongue loudly twice. The horse eventually got the idea, and he sidestepped the muddy bank, pacing off to the right, giving the slough a wide berth.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Scott," Lisa said.

"You've always been one of my best clients, Lisa," Scott commented warmly. "Happy to be of service. I was surprised to hear from you, to be honest; I haven't had a call from Fairfield in months."

"I know," she said vaguely, "being in France and all meant I wasn't as hands-on here as I have been in the past."

At that moment, Ty ambled in to the holding area. If he was surprised to see her there, he hid the emotion well. "Hi, Lisa," he said casually, as if this were any other normal visit.

"Hello, Ty," she answered back with a wan smile. Kicking herself mentally, she now knew she should have counted on the possibility Ty would be on duty at the clinic today. Oh, shoot. First Tim; now Ty. It's going to be impossible to keep my being in Hudson from Jack.

"I noticed the 'For Sale' signs up at Fairfield," Scott continued. "Don't tell me you're thinking of leaving us for good?"

Lisa bobbed her head, still wary of Ty's presence. "Yeah, I've had a good run here," she replied. "I'm looking at a new opportunity in Avignon."

With that short answer, both Scott and Ty understood she was not going to say anything more on the topic.

"So what's going on with this guy?" Scott asked, looking now at the horse. "You said something about an electrical fence?"

"Uh, yes," Lisa spoke up, re-organizing her thoughts to focus on the reason for her hasty appointment. "Meet Cinders."

The horse's level of agitation had come down since the earlier ride, but Lisa caught subtle cues that told a different story, making it clear to her Cinders was not over the sudden electrical shock they had experienced at the slough. She explained the whole episode while Scott examined the animal, inviting Ty to do the same as a learning exercise.

Presently, Scott declared: "In my medical opinion, there's nothing wrong with him physically, Lisa."

"That's good," Lisa said in relief. She rubbed Cinders' forehead. "It's just that he now absolutely refuses to go near water, Scott. The shock was pretty intense. Even I felt it right before I ended up on my butt. I'm afraid he thinks he's going to get zapped every time he steps into a puddle."

"I wish there was a magic pill I could give him to cure aquaphobia," Scott said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I know," Lisa sighed. "I just sold him yesterday to a guy in Montana. He's being shipped out on Sunday. I can't sell a 'defective' product."

"Want me to ask Amy if she can take the case?" Ty interjected, sympathetic to her situation.

Lisa contemplated. Involving Amy came with a risk. If Jack found out... She was grateful Ty had not asked any prying questions, seemingly aware the topic of her reappearance was verboten, but his suggestion was her best chance at fixing the problem.

"Okay," she eventually replied. "But could you—could you please tell her to keep it confidential...? Jack doesn't know I'm back, and I mean to keep it that way."

Ty nodded at her with understanding; Scott looked at her quizzically, but wisely held his tongue.

"Thanks," she said, blowing out a breath. "I hope she can figure him out before Sunday. But then again, she's always come through for me in the past. Go ahead, Ty. He's all yours."

"I'll get Cinders trailered out to Heartland right away," Ty said, taking hold of the lead rope.

Once Ty was safely on the way back to Heartland, Lisa carried on with some additional errands. As she drove, she came to the conclusion she was simply prolonging the inevitable. Even though I've sworn Scott, Ty and Tim to secrecy, walls have ears. Jack's going to know I'm here before the day is done, guaranteed.

Jack's sleep had been restive and uneasy. Katie's fright over the storm in addition to her irritability at missing Lou had not made for a peaceful night. Pete had sheepishly apologized for the toddler's cries, but the older man sympathized. He had been through those same parenting woes when Marion had been a baby, though he had admittedly missed months at a time of her growing up due to being on the rodeo circuit.

As Jack drove out to the town Yard Waste and Recycle Centre to deposit their dead branches and leaf sweepings, he wondered what his grandson-in-law was going to do if Katie continued to regress in her potty-training regimen. Clearly, these new parents had not counted on a lengthy separation between child and mother during this crucial time. Pete was doing his best, but it seemed not to be enough at this time.

He was still pondering this problem on his return trip to Heartland, slowly coming to the realisation there might not be any easy solutions. He was so engrossed in this mental exercise he had a double-take when he spotted a woman he thought he recognized on the side of the road.

Lisa?! he thought in a daze. It can't be.

But his eyes were not deceiving him. This was no case of mistaken identity as in times past when he thought he saw her in town. This was his old flame, quietly checking her mail like any other person. Only she was not any other person. She was the one who somehow managed to slip through his fingers. A subtle heat burned in his chest as he brought the truck to a slow roll before setting the brake.

Lisa is back. What is she doing here? Why is she back? Lisa is here.

Jack very nearly stumbled over his two feet on his approach. He could tell she heard his footsteps though he was trying to be stealthy.

"Hi, Lisa," he uttered, unsure of what to say now that he had been presented with this unexpected opportunity to talk with her.

She looked up almost guiltily at him.

Busted, Lisa thought. Here I am, trying to avoid Jack this whole time, and he has to spot me getting the mail. How silly is that?

Yet, her heart swelled at the sight of this cowboy, dressed as usual in his boots, jeans, plaid-patterned shirt, coat and hat. He looks healthy. I'm so glad. And now that she had seen him, every word she had once hoped to speak to him fled from her mind, leaving her tongue-tied. Her first instinct was to bolt from the scene rather than try to explain why she had not told him she was in Hudson. That same reticence seemed to be reflected in Jack's eyes; this unplanned encounter thoroughly throwing them both into an state of confusion.

They both mouthed meaningless words to each other, clumsily working through some semblance of a conversation that lasted less than a minute. Twin coals that once burned as one had turned stone cold, the former lovers behaving more like passing acquaintances. Absent from this meeting was any sense of excitement or jubilation; no crushing embrace or feverish kiss.

Jack's heart sank perceptibly when Lisa admitted she had been back for maybe a week—and that she was selling Fairfield.

"Well, I guess that was always the plan, wasn't it?" he spoke with an air of indifference, despite the chill brought on by the revelation. Yes, you always said you wanted to retire to France, Lisa. I never figured it would be so soon; and not without telling me, first.

Rather than prolong the sheer awkwardness of the encounter, Lisa excused herself, claiming—truthfully—she had a busy schedule to keep.

"'Bye'," she said, before turning to climb into the SUV.

"'Bye'," Jack managed to articulate, a lump forming in his throat watching her hasty retreat.

No "See you later" or "Let's catch up soon", and certainly not anything close to "I'm ready to make up".

Jack looked on a second or two while Lisa drove away, struck by the memory of another similar departure over a year prior, the one that had come as a sort of coda to their "break". Attempts had been made back then to repair that break; circumstances had not been in their favour.

"Not goodbye," he had corrected her at the time, a sad smile creasing his face. He remembered being heartsick at the prospect of suffering another lengthy separation from her, especially when their relationship was still so fractured.

"'til next time," she had repeated, her eyes misting, almost as if she sensed it could very well be the last time they ever saw each other.

The fact it almost was the last time they ever saw each other was not lost on Jack. His brush with death brought her rushing back. Now, he considered something new: Would she ever have come back if I had not had the heart attack? She did write that letter... But no. Just as swiftly as she had arrived, she had left him.

And now she's driving away again. For a fleeting moment he entertained the notion of chasing her down. No, that would be foolish, Jack thought, idly scratching the side of his face. She gave no indication she was happy to see me; let it go. That whole meeting went over like a lead balloon. Dejected, he paced back to his truck, trying to stem the flood of old memories of happier times with Lisa.

We're driving off in opposite directions. I'm going to Heartland, and she's going to Fairfield. She's selling Fairfield. I must have missed the realtor's signs, somehow. Jack knew how he had missed them, however, as he had taken to deliberately avoiding looking at Lisa's property any time his course took him along the stretch of road bordering it.

He could not help but remember the first time he had seen Fairfield up close. I was driving Lisa back after I told off that jerk of an ex-husband of hers. I was so happy that she still wanted to talk to me after leaving her stranded at the auction. She's so forgiving. Why did she give me a second chance? She accepted my apology so easily. I thought I had blown it.

His brain had been spinning at top speed throughout that drive, reaching for some way of asking her out on an honest-to-goodness date, but could think of no simple way to bring up the subject. Thank goodness she had provided an opening when she playfully asked if he had a plan in mind about how he was going to make it up to her. He had always felt comfortable and relaxed at his cabin, so before he even knew what he was saying, he asked if she was free to go fly fishing with him in a few weeks.

"Well, as a matter of fact... I do have something in mind about how to make it up to you..."

And she said "yes" so quickly, I almost couldn't believe my ears. What was I thinking asking a woman like Lisa out to a ratty old fishing cabin for a date?

Presently, Jack pulled back into Heartland. The sun was starting to go down, splashing golden rays across the open fields, highlighting the tops of the trees. He noticed Amy and Georgie in the jumping pen; the former taking a new horse around the course over what looked like empty liverpools. Heart and feet heavy, he dragged himself onto the porch and sank heavily into the bench, mind still full of that first date with her.

"To whatever it is," she had toasted them, a spark of warmth bursting in those blue eyes he already loved so dearly.

Whatever it was, Jack now thought with a doleful shake of his head. She didn't even tell me she was back in Hudson. After all we've been through, she didn't see it fit to tell me she was selling Fairfield. I deserved that much at least, didn't I?

But the more he tried to take umbrage at Lisa's lack of communication this time around, the more he was convicted of his own behaviour the last time they were together. She doesn't want anything to do with me after that falling out we had over that ridiculous hospital bed. The spark in her eyes was gone today. I never thought those eyes could look so cold... And sad.

It tormented him to know he was the proximate cause of that sadness and cold, impersonal reception.

Of all the dumb luck. I can't believe after all that avoidance, I had to run into Jack at the mailboxes. Lisa replayed that disappointing encounter, analysing each careless word spoken, wondering what she might have done differently. I honestly have no idea how to interpret how that went down back there, she thought. I don't know how to read that expression on Jack's face. Was he happy to see me? He didn't sound like it. And he certainly didn't sound surprised when I told him I was selling my place. What did I expect, anyway? That he would break down and beg me to stay? Oh, no. That's not Jack Bartlett's style. In fact, I have no idea at all what he was thinking. It's like we were almost strangers by the way we talked.

Lisa pulled onto the access road to Fairfield, flashing by the 'For Sale' sign. Her heart throbbed after concluding that might very well have been the last time she ever saw Jack. What a sour note to end things on, she mused bitterly. What a wasted opportunity.

Business concerns soon took over once again as she was obliged to inspect the clean-up job done by the landscaping company. Everything looked ship-shape; Fairfield would be more than ready for prospective buyers the realtor wished to bring for a viewing.

Out of nowhere, a distant memory of Val Stanton's mocking voice surfaced. "So, you'll be living at Fairfield, then?"

Lisa paused in her tracks, swept up in the residual irritation of that long-ago exchange. "Jack did hit the jackpot, didn't he?" Val had teased, though she seemed to know she was poking at one of Lisa's private insecurities. "I'm sure you'll have an ironclad pre-nup."

Val's thinly veiled antagonism stirred up feelings of resentment now. Jack and Lisa's hasty engagement was over just as quickly as it had begun, all because they truly had not seriously considered how their lives would come together in a practical sense. Oh, we had the romantic side figured out, Lisa acknowledged, but now even that's gone. No engagement, no marriage. We'll never be together at Fairfield now, and we certainly won't ever have France. Our relationship is officially road-kill, and I'll bet Val the Vulture is still lurking around, just waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

Next Chapter: Chapter 24: Things I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You

#Heartland #Heartland fanfiction #My Fanfiction #wide river to cross #Chapter 23 #Chance Encounter #Jack Bartlett #Lisa Stillman #JISA #Tim Fleming #Amy Fleming #Ty Borden #Scott Cardinal #Val Stanton #Maggie Duval #Nick Harwell #Fairfield Stables #Cinders

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tylerwritez · 3 years

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Tuesday, june 22 2021

I've noticed I'm getting "the shiverys" or "the twitchy" a lot today. Like every time I FEEL something I take a moment to violently tic.... every time I think about certain things I tic.... good things, bad things, things from an hour ago and things from years ago. Tic, tic, tic.

Also, I have... some stuff to explain. Its really no big deal, but you know me: I'll freak out about it anyway. Basically I dissed my friend (rightfully so) around the time that we had just met cos they did something that threw me off.

He saw it in my phone... NOW. it's not RELEVANT anymore and I've since redacted that criticism...and now I gotta explain it to him anwyays. Oh well. I'm good at this stuff. I can get myself outta any situation. I dont even know why I'm talking like this tho... it's not a "Situation" it's just smthn I gotta explain rq.

Oh, today's song recommendation is Spirit Crusher by Death. I'm a huge Death fan...

Also! I gotta study... for my replacement exam. How stressful. Its about photosynthesis, but like, it's not simple. We went DEEP inside those fucking leaves.

One sec, lemme hook up my IV tube

Not an ACTUAL IV tube... just my headphones. But since I'm so #emo, it might as well be a fucking IV tube with the way that I cant live without it.

Its 3:08 and I'm walking home now. I was upset last night but me and Star have made up now lol... it was thAt easy. I'm so defective, making shit hard when it doesnt need to be.

It's so hot out damn. Idk. I had school today, so I had Bio class... I ACTUALLY PAID ATTENTION for once. I had lunch with Star and her friend group, and I honestly kinda feel like they're MY friends now too, even just a little bit.

Actually, I used to rant about feeling lonely like all the time but now I have so many friends it's crazy they all keep inviting me places and it's like people WANT ME AROUND... idk. It makes me happy.

Today I gotta ask if tommroow after school I can go to Bee's house to watch Supernatural (famous homoerotic ghost show)

I should also add songs to Erin's spotify playlist for our picnic saturday which I still need permission to go to.

I gotta ask for Wednesday after school to watch Insidious with Jay which is apparently really good

Also hes the friend that I gotta explain stuff to... the DrAmA... the ThEaTrE....

Update my dad said yes to hanging out with Bee but first I'm gonna miss school to fix my broken brackets on my braces

Also turns out the house I THOUGHT we were moving into has substantial damage from shifting so... we aRENT moving there.

In case you didn't know, shifting is when like the house that's been built literally SHIFTS like it moves around.

Anwyays Jay just texted me... I'm gonna change into shorts since it's hot, set up my study area,.... and respond to him.

The time is 3:22 p.m.

Wish me. Luck.

Luck is plentiful! As it so often is in my risky, risky life.

I play my cards right. It's a learnt skill.

But also there wasnt much to explain since it passed already and was tiny anywyas.

XD so I've made up with the whole goddamn world by now.

Its 6:31, we saw 1 house. Only one. Its kinda hot out but I'm gonna bike now since we just had supper. I finally finished my homework... I just have to finish one mixed media piece as my final project for art!

Friday is my replacement. On photosynthesis and cell resp. We know this. But what I didn't mention, or I dont THINK I did, is that if I finish my art project before then I have the second block FREE!!! Me, Star, and her friend

A are planning to leave for second block and maybe get mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Also I might eat her out XD

Anyways idk. I hope I can bike tonight to call Jay.

I keep accidentally using people's real names here then having to correct it... I dont know how much i care about MY identity being discovered... but to have my friends doxxed would suck.

Man I feel bad abt saying fuck star last night cos we made up....

Wait we r looking at another house? Idk I'm in the car still waiting to go home

Oh wait no now we r goin home

Its 6:39... I hope I still have time.

I went biking, called Jay. Went home. Idk, friendly conversation... we talked more tonight and I also talked to my other friend A. Jay is... I LOVE HIM?? SO MUCH??? I feel so happy. Talking to him thinking about him seeing his STUPID FUCKING FACE JESUS. his eyes alone... I could stare at his face all day probably. I want to kiss him... hOLD HIS HAND... omg... huG HIM!!! Eofjwpxjwie he's so sweet like I can't even... and I'm proabably not good enough for him like. Wtf. Hes easily a 10. And I dont rate things outta 10. How tf do I end up with HIM? Doing stuff, as friends. Like wHAT. I guess I got lucky XD. He says he loves my personality and I'm hot XD ofc I dont see it myself. But like. JESUS CHRIST he could proabably easily pull whOever. XD me?

Whatever though. As long as we r together and stuff. I LOVE HIM A LOT. he said he loved me. Every time he says that it makes me so overly happy.

Maybe I'm just sappy and stuff.... whatever. I think it would be nice to be hugged by him.

Yeah I'm cheesy.

I'm sorta tired now so maybe I'm not writing the best.

I just keep thinkinf about love. Love is a muscle of evil suggestion. But how evil can it really be? I am just a human being and that is all. Everything else is applied. I am just a human being with soemthing in my heart that pulls me all over the place. Love is this strange thing because I'm fucked up and to be able to love without that fucked up part of me, without the damage... is this complicated, hard thing to do and I can NEVER tell if I'm doing it right but I know I'm DOING IT. I know I FEEL LOVE. And soemtimes it's such an intense thing like when you go to surf on a wave at the beach with ur belly but u hit it wrong and it's so big and overwhelming it washes over you and PULLS you down to the bottom and smushes your face into the sand and YOU CANT BREATHE jesus Christ it's like that.

Or maybe I just want to experience love as it should be felt.

Obviously all of my problems surrounding this Damage could be easily fixed if I went to therapy but. there are reasons I can't.

I LOVE a lot. Too much for my own good. Enough to hurt me, get me into trouble, etc etc but also... enough to liberate me. I LOVE. I love Jay. So much. LIKE. MY BRAIN ORBITS AROUND HIM CONSTANTLY THINKING OF HIM AND PRAISING HIM AND MWUAH HE IS SO LOVELY I BOW BEFORE HIM...

I think as much as I love, a lot of the times I tend to focus even more on BEING loved.

If I am told I am loved, and shOwN I am loved... it is one of the most powerful things. Especially since I was literally emotionally neglected in childhood... yeah. I feel like I'm always trying to fill that hole.

Not EVERY feeling I have is for that reaosn but sometimes, if you tell me you love me, show me you love me, hug me,... I'll like start crying,,, that's the childhood emotional neglect kicking in. If you call me #smol and #cute and say I look young and fragile which happens more often than you'd think XD, I know I'm not supposed to like that shit, so I act like I dont....but I do. Which is PROBABLY ALSO THE CEN 🤪 like whatever lol

Anwyays I'm fucked up

You see how quickly things become complicated in my mind?

Convoluted? Is that the word?

Whatever. I OVERCOMPLICATE THINGS COS I OVERTHINK THEM BECAUSE I'm LITERALLY MENTALLY ILL IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS. I'm not joking. I obviously have unresolved undiagnosed "issues"

I do Suspect things, though.

I can make a list

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I will.

I shouldnt.

Whatever.

I used to hate when people brought up my self harm. I would actually panic. I still self harm but now? Now I'm fine with anyone talking about it as long as it's not an adult who can get me into trouble/force me into therapy over it. Because really? I kinda like having it mentioned. It's kinda validating and it's like hey... people can see that I'm sick.

I dont do it so people talk to me about it though. Dont get me wrong. If I did, I'd go vertically on the arms, not for suicide but so it healed and people would ask XD.

My scars are actually VERY hidden... cos I never intended for ANYONE to see. But for those who DO see them,,,, it's nice soemtimes to have people express concern.

I dont wanna be PITIED or anything, but idk I just think to myself "wow, they're CONCERNED... about ME... they arent angry or mean... they didnt yell at me or threaten me... they respect my autonomy and privacy...

And they CARE ABOUT ME..." and it makes me cry.

That's also the CEN.

I dont know. I just like when people express genuine concern. Even if they see and then just ask if I'm okay. That's all it takes cos then I go wow.

Its validating and irs lovely because finally people care... FINALLY PEOPLE CARE. FINALLY I GET SOME EMPATHY OR SYMPATHY AND NO ANGER.

Even just having them brought up tells me its noticeable enough

My brain does this thing where it thinks nothing bad that's ever happened to me was Bad Enough for me to be upset about.

And I dont know... its nice sometimes to be told shit like "omg that looks so bad" or to see that people who do see my cuts are somewhat shocked or revolted... it's nice because I go... "hey, it was bad enough for them..."

Or to have people comment on them with concern. Just ANYTHINT WHERE PEOPLE NOTICE IT AND ARENT ASSHOLES ABOUT IT IS VALIDATING.

Because I'm not used to that...

Because CEN

I'm. The worst perosn on the fucking planet.

I should kill myself.

I suddenly actually feel so self hating I do want to kill myself... oh god.

I ruin everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. What have I done. Like. Why. Oh god.

I'm just remembering when Star said my kindness seemed like an act. And how I've been called out for seeming fake like 2 other times.

DO I SEEM FAKE???? I DONT EVER PUT ON ACTS OF KINDESS.... CONCIOUSLY? but the very idea that I could be perceived that way...

Should I like not try to be nice or some shit?

Jesus christ she hurts my feelings even now when it was a long time ago.

But I cant blame her. I can't blame anyone for how i feel except my parents because they left me with fucking. Heart nerve damage or some shit.

I'm tired and now I'm sad too. Goodnight guys.

#JudeJournals

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firebrands · 4 years

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a catalog of non-definitive acts | steve/tony (part 3)

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, mature, 1.7k ft. sex and angst | on ao3 | part 1, part 2

Tony’s hunched over schematics when he feels two arms wrap around his waist. Tony hums in response, and already begins to mentally pack up; he knows what comes next.

Steve starts by kissing the back of Tony’s neck, soft and gentle, then tightens his embrace. “What are you up to?” he asks, like it’s any regular Tuesday.

Tony takes a breath. “Just thinking,” he says. This, he’s more used to: hiding, pretending, being wilfully obtuse. It’s times like this that he wishes he was stupider, wishes he didn’t already figure how this conversation would go.

But he isn’t stupid, so he isn’t surprised when Steve kisses the back of his neck again and says teasingly, “About me, I hope.” Steve’s hand is rubbing small circles on Tony’s stomach and it’s distracting, the simplicity of Steve’s Steve-ness.

Tony tilts his head back to rest against Steve’s shoulder, and Steve turns his head to press a kiss against Tony’s neck, just above his aorta.

“Of course,” Tony answers, can’t bear to say more than that. He already feels like he’s given too much away, that he keeps giving too much away.

Steve presses a line of kisses up Tony’s neck, stopping just below Tony’s ear. “Good,” he murmurs, making Tony shiver. Tony can tell that Steve’s smiling at his reaction, and Tony turns to look at Steve, and they’re close enough for Tony to see the rings around Steve’s eyes and somehow, in spite of everything, he’s still so taken in by how gorgeous Steve is.

Steve bops Tony’s nose with his before kissing him, and the easy affection makes Tony a little lightheaded. Tony parts his mouth open, moans as Steve’s hands begin wandering down the band of his sweatpants, and then the alarm sounds and they’re off each other immediately.

It’s par for the course that after everything, somehow, Tony wakes up in a hospital bed. Tony’s first reaction upon waking up is to roll his eyes. “What’s the situation, J?”

“Good evening, sir. You were hit rather badly by one of the bank robber’s rockets and landed on your head as you fell. You have a minor concussion but all signs point to you being fine within the next day.”

Tony sighs. “Of course.” Criminals in New York who had access to upgraded tech. God bless the new world.

“You’ve been asleep for twelve hours. It is currently 11 PM.”

Tony grunts in response, then reaches over to the bedside table where someone was considerate enough to leave a glass of water. Tony’s about to lie back down when the door swings open, and Tony thinks that he might be a bit more concussed than JARVIS is saying because somehow, Steve’s presence is illuminating.

“You’re awake,” Steve says, relief clear in his tone.

“You’re here,” Tony deadpans.

For a brief moment, Steve looks chastened. “I went to get something to eat.”

Tony nods, settles back into the bed. “Anything left for me?”

“I can fix up something for you,” Steve offers, resting his hand on top of Tony’s.

“It’s fine. Just teasing.” Tony turns his palm up. He’s done this before, again and again after the first time. He feels foolish thinking that it means something for Steve, too.

Just as Steve’s about to thread their fingers together, the door swings open again: Thor, this time, and just like a flash of lighting Tony’s hand is cold and empty. Steve’s hand is curled into a fist on the railing of the hospital bed.

“Anthony!” Thor grins, pulling Tony into a gentle embrace. “I had no doubt in your recovery,” he says, tightening his arms around Tony’s shoulders briefly before pulling away.

“That is, unlike some of us,” Thor says, casting an accusing glance at Steve. It’s undercut by Thor’s almost immediate laughter; he’s never been good at letting a joke simmer.

“Oh, really,” Tony says, and it’s a practiced movement, to raise a smirk to his lips. See? It’s funny. It’s funny that Steve cares about Tony, to any degree. Everyone’s in on the joke.

Steve ducks his head, mumbles something under his breath that neither Thor nor Tony catch.

Thor smiles at Tony, warm and goofy. “I am glad you are all right,” he says, resting his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Come, Steven. Let us leave Anthony to recuperate.”

Tony watches for Steve’s reaction, doesn’t miss the way he looks up abruptly, how he opens his mouth to say something then just as quickly shuts it.

Thor’s already turning away, his hand now on Steve’s arm, tugging him along.

“Actually I—“ Steve says, fumbling around for words and he wrestles his arm away from Thor’s grip. “I have to talk to Tony,” he finishes lamely. Tony bites down on his lip to stifle his laughter, and settle back down onto the bed. If it were anyone else from the team, they’d have stopped in their tracks and looked at Steve funny. But it’s Thor, and these small tells are things he’s still learning.

“It’s fine, Steve,” he says, raising his hand to uncurl Steve’s fist. But he’s too slow, and Steve snatches his hand away. The smile dies on Tony’s lips, and he lets his hand fall limply back to his side.

He’s sure Steve doesn’t notice the shift, still seemingly intent on staying. Thor’s out the door with a shake of his head, calling out to Steve one last time before the door shuts: “Do not berate him for his mistakes, Steven!”

Tony knows Thor’s referring to the battle, to how despite everything Tony still gets into these scrapes—the unspoken implication of Tony’s imperfections—but it sings true to everything between him and Steve, and the offhand comment makes Tony turn away to hide his frown.

Steve, meanwhile, lets out an uncharacteristic scoff at Thor’s comment, like it’s the last thing on his mind to berate Tony. Part of Tony hopes that’s true, in any form; that Steve isn’t going to chide him for literally showing his hand just moments ago. At this point it’s an unspoken rule, to keep whatever it is between them just between them.

Once the door clicks shut, Steve takes Tony’s hand in his, his grip warm and secure, and Tony reads so much into it—the implication of secrecy, the physical relief at the sudden affection, Steve’s care—that he misses whatever Steve says to him.

“Tony?” Steve asks, squeezing Tony’s hand a little.

“What?” Tony feels dazed, and it’s not just the concussion.

“I asked if you wanted me to get you some food, or if you’d like to rest.” There’s worry in Steve’s face, clear in the small frown on his lips, the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s fine,” Tony replies, exhaustion settling in on him like a heavy blanket. He would like a great many things that he knows he isn’t going to get and he’s too tired to keep up this charade tonight. He’s been too tired for a while, if he’s being honest. (But he isn’t, very rarely is, and what does it matter if he’s tired, anyway? It’s pathetic that he feels slighted by the numerous small rebuffs. It’s pathetic that in the middle of the night, this night and all the others, he just wants the simple joy of Steve’s touch.)

“Okay,” Steve smiles and leans over the railing to press a soft kiss on Tony’s forehead.

Tony swallows, tilts his chin up. It’s a question he hopes Steve will answer.

Steve smiles again, and begins to kiss a trail down Tony’s face: a kiss on the space between Tony’s eyebrows, three kisses down the ridge of Tony’s nose. His lips hover over Tony’s for a moment, and Tony’s breathing is shallow with anticipation.

Steve shuts his eyes and sighs, leans closer so their foreheads touch. It feels so intimate that it’s almost painful. Tony wants—he wants too much. Too much. He’d settle for a kiss, right about now. Why can’t Steve just give him that?

“God, Tony,” Steve whispers, and Tony wants to cry, now, his chest swelling so quickly that it threatens to burst with how much he feels at the broken sound of Steve’s voice, telegraphing fear and relief and—Tony must be imagining things, because there’s a word, there’s one word in the whole history of human desire that encapsulates the emotion behind Steve saying his name. There’s a word for how Tony has felt all those times they’d sought each other out, silent and secret, hidden between the closed doors of the workshop, double-checking to ensure they aren’t seen when they make their way up to the penthouse. There’s a word for all the times Tony’s wanted Steve to stay, for all the times Tony had reached out to just take what he wanted so badly to be his. There’s a word for the way he lets Steve hold him, the look they share in the afterglow.

But Tony knows that can’t be it.

Tony doesn’t say anything, instead cranes his neck forward and doesn’t miss the mark: Steve’s lips on his are familiar and soft. Steve kisses back but pulls away too quickly, and somehow, Tony feels he’s not the only one who’s disappointed.

“You should get some rest,” Steve says, shifting a chair closer to the bed with his free hand. He smiles at Tony as he takes a seat, but the smile is weak, almost false.

They’re silent for a moment, and Tony takes a deep breath before saying, “You can go ahead.”

“Go ahead where?” Steve asks, confused. Tony takes advantage of this and disentangles his hand from Steve’s grip.

“To bed?”

“I can stay,” Steve says, and takes Tony’s hand in his again.

Tony knows Steve doesn’t have to, and can’t fathom the reason as to why; he’s never wanted to stay before. Is it always going to take an injury to keep him?

He looks down at their intertwined fingers and sighs at the knowledge that he’d put himself through hell if that’s what it did take. (But then again: isn’t this hell enough already?)

He means to talk more, but falls asleep too soon. When he wakes up a few hours later, Steve’s gone, and Tony’s hand is tucked securely under a blanket. He waits a few minutes in vain hope that Steve’s stomach had driven him to another ill-timed snack break, but he can’t say he’s surprised that half an hour later Steve doesn’t come back.

#steve x tony #stony #stevetony #stevetony fanfiction #stevetony fic #stony fanafiction #stony fic #steve rogers #tony stark #things i write #HAHA OH GOD i am writing chapter 4 now and screaming #a catalog of non definitive acts

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saundraswriting · 4 years

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Need Some TLC Chapter 7: Sick at Bucky’s

SUMMARY:You make you way home after the longest week in a long time. You more tired then you every have been coupled with the beginning of the flu. You decide to take the Captain and Sargent up on their offer. They force you to res

WARNING: None

You pursed your lips and eyed the red key with hesitation. You did promise to use the key if you needed to sleep after a rough stint at the hospital. You were tired-beyond tired-and not feeling well. You wanted to use the key, you knew that you were in no shape to care for yourself. You were dizzy and cotton mouthed. You could feel yourself swaying as you blinked. Your heart was racing and you knew you were dehydrated. This was definitely time to use the key, even if they weren't there F.R.I.D.A.Y would be able to monitor you for them.

'Maybe they only offered out of politeness and responsibility. They only see you as an obligation. Captain America would surely offer his apartment out of neighborly obligation. Maybe they don't like me anyway.' Your thoughts grew more and more depressing and anxious, your sleep deprivation getting to you. While you debated on taking the two men up on their proposition your feet chose to make the decision for you. You stopped outside their door and fingered the key. 'Fuck it! They won't mind. I certainly don't. Maybe they will even be here to keep me company.' With that thought you inserted the key and turned. You hadn't seen Bucky before work in a day or two, you vaguely remembered him mentioning needing to be in the compound. You took a deep breath and slouched against the door using your body weight to push it open.

You stepped in quietly closed the door hoping to be unobtrusive. You pulled your bags off and sat them on the floor, keeping the strap in your hand. You looked up to scan the apartment, once and then twice before you recognized the crowd of people in the living room. You squinted and looked at the key in you hand and back to the room. Your eyes were having trouble focusing. You finally locked on to blue eyes staring at you in obvious concern. Bucky was sitting on a couch by himself.

"I'm sorry." You said to the room. "Sargent Barnes and Captain Rogers told me to come over if I ever needed to. I have worked a lot lately." You yawned deeply and swayed. You were struggling to stay on your feet after a 20 hour day. You were slowly losing your ability to stay awake but you couched down to gather your bags. The migraine you had shoved away was coming back with a vengeance. "I can go? I don't want to interrupt." Bucky interrupted before you could make to leave.

"Y/N, c'mon. Lay down. You need to sleep. You are always welcome here. Now let go of the bag and come here." Bucky patted the couch next to him. You did as he said letting the bags slouch against each other on the floor. Steve and the others watched with thinly veiled interest. Most didn't know who you were let alone why you had a key or why Bucky was being so soft and dotting. You stumbled over to Bucky like a drunkard, not able to focus. Steve was glad he cleared a path for you. You sat on the couch with a groan and with Bucky's encouragement and help laid down. Almost instantly you were settling. Bucky smiled and pulled off your shoes and socks and emptied your pockets. He reached up and gently took your ponytail out. He tucked a pillow behind your head and wrapped you in a blanket. You sighed deeply and gave a final wiggle to get comfortable.

"You okay, sweetheart? I have been worried." Bucky said as he tucked you in.

"Fine. Just want to stop. Tired. People just need to do their job." You spoke with forced enunciation, a choppiness to your words. "I am cold and nauseous and achy." You slurred. The sensation of being taken care of, of safety and closeness helping ease your tense muscles and tired brain into drowsiness.

"I know, darling. A good rest will help put you to rights." He began rubbing your feet where they rested in his lap. You peered up at him with suspicion.

"You are doing this on purpose. I should stay up. Keep my schedule. Somewhat." You told him. He glared at you with a twinge of heat. "Or, I can just lay here and take a nap." Bucky nodded and rewarded you with a smile. "Fine don't let me sleep too long. You have company." You ordered. He nodded but the twinkle in his eye told you that your next few days would be spent in his care getting better.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. I will wake you in a few hours." Bucky murmured in your ear, adjusting the pillow and blanket. With that you fell asleep between one breath and the next.

Bucky watched you for a few minutes. He instinctively counted your rapid, shallow breaths and fast, hard heartbeats. Your face was pale and blotchy, a grey tint at the very edges of your skin. Bucky felt his concern and worry grow in his chest.

"Steve, do we have a thermometer?" Bucky asked smoothing a hair from your face. It was greasy and he could feel the dry shampoo build up in your roots.

"Want us to leave the room?" Clint teased. "We can leave if you want." Bucky knew even though he was joking, Clint and the others would leave if asked.

"Stop. She is sick and tired. She came here for comfort. I am trying to reteach her affection and friendship. She doesn't have anyone-by circumstance or choice I do not know. I want to be there for her. Like she is for me. Us." Bucky said.

"Bucky, even I can tell from here, she has a fever. You want me to call Bruce?" Steve asked. He handed over the thermometer, telling Bucky to just scan your forehead.

"Bruce isn't that kind of doctor he continually tells us. She is actually a healthcare professional." Bucky took your temperature and winced at the number. "101.3. The is a little high. She should stay here this weekend."

"Agreed. But we both knew she was staying even before the fever. But let's get to lunch and games. She'll sleep like the dead." Steve's lack of concern in his weekend being crashed confused the others but they said nothing.

The group began bickering over what to do for lunch and which game to play. Eventually they decided on pizza and Trivial Pursuit. While they ate and played, Bucky split his attention between his friends and you. He didn't want to keep you on the couch for too long. He was also thinking of ways to get you fever down and rehydrate you. A loud bout of laughter rang through the apartment, Natasha glowering at Sam and Clint. The sudden noise broke through your sleep causing you to stir and whine softly.

"Hush, darling." Bucky murmured in your ear. You settled at the sound of his voice. Clint looked on with warmth in his gaze. He was always a sucker for people in need. His apartment buildings were always full of people trying to get back on their feet for something.

"Wake her in two hours. That will give her one full R.E.M cycle. Give her some regular water or Gatorade and some soup broth to help rehydrate her. Give her some Tylenol to get the fever down at first then bed. Then tomorrow push fluids and good food. She should be better in no time." Clint told Bucky as the pizza arrived and everyone scrambled for some like vultures. Bucky nodded and thanked Clint as he stroked your hair or rubbed a thumb on your ankle while your feet rested in his lap.

"Okay. I know she has been neglecting herself. She baseline is dehydrated, overworked, sleep deprived, and malnourished. I have a lot to fix. She doesn't even seem to understand that she can rely on people or that she deserves basic things. I know that she has some mental health problems-who doesn't-but I want her to know that working through them like this isn't healthy. I want her to know she can rely on us. on me. to help." Bucky told Clint. Bucky felt better with instructions. He made a mental note to research modern medicine to better help anyone in the future. The relief settled him so he could play games and enjoy his friends.

The predetermined two hours was just about up, Bucky was thinking on how to wake you up when your phone began vibrating. The caller ID screen read Work. The vibrating made you stir but Bucky snatched it off the table before you awoke and answered it. The team instantly was silent.

"Hello?" Bucky was hesitant, he didn't want to invade your privacy and he didn't want to wake you just yet either.

"Hello. I'm sorry? I was trying to reach Y/N? I am Diane from Mercy Hospital General Care Ward." The woman on the other end of the call was polite but confused.

"This is her phone. She is unavailable. Can I take a message?" Bucky sounded calm but his right hand was clenched tightly and his eyebrows dipped together in a frown.

"I know that today is her first day off in sometime but I needed to ask her-" Bucky didn't let her finish before he rejected her statement.

"Absolutely not." Bucky's voice was as sharp as flint.

"Pardon me?" Diane's voice rose in pitch.

"Y/N has just gotten off of 4 16 hour shifts and 2 20 hour shifts. Just this week. She is ill and tired. I am sorry to disappoint you but she will continue to be unavailable until Tuesday as scheduled." Bucky was firm and just shy of rude, he was not giving on this issue even a millimeter.

"Very well. Thank you for your help. I hope she feels better. Good day." Diane hung up not waiting for Bucky's response. Bucky placed the phone back on the table trying not to move you too much.

"Good job, Bucky!" Steve grinned at his friend. Everyone looked on bewildered.

"Bucky, that maybe was a little too far? She should've made that decision herself?" Pietro asked.

"No, she would've forced herself to go in. The state she is in would do more harm then good. She knows they need her but she also knows they need her healthy. I took away the guilt of saying no from her." Bucky defended himself.

"Also me going in with a little bug can lead to huge problems, even if I am careful. Who was it on the phone? Everyone knew I was unreachable until Tuesday, unless it was an emergency." You cut into the conversation with a yawn.

"Y/N! I am sorry did we wake you?" Steve leaned over the back of the couch by Bucky's shoulder.

"No. I heard you talking but I was freaking out about oversleeping and next thing I know, I am awake. Sort of." You said while stretching. "Claudia was definitely right."

""Claudia?" Steve repeated.

"A night nurse, I knew. She told me that sometimes it is good to sleep with people near. Humans are social creatures when sleeping too. Helps the brain relax." You explained to Steve before turning to Bucky. "You didn't answer my question."

"Diane."

"Man, fuck Diane. I hate her. Thank you for telling her no for me." You smiled at Bucky, who smiled back feeling relief. "What was my temp?" You asked seeing the thermometer on the coffee table.

"101.3." Steve said. He and the others watched as you blinked blearily around the room.

"Temporal? Then it is probably 102 even 103. I have a high grade fever. I will need to push fluids." You pushed up to a sitting position, throwing a hand out to ride out the dizziness.

"Your iron is low. You are anemic." A man with short dirty blonde hair said.

"Huh?" You blinked at him. "Oh, yeah. But not from being sick. I haven't been eating well." You narrowed your eyes at the man who you were speaking to, then widened them in recognition. "Sargent Barnes...I know we discussed me trading baked good for name-dropping bragging rights but I think it will have to wait." You said.

Bucky laughed and helped you sit up. "They aren't here for your baked goods today. They are here for Team-Bonding. Anyway sweetie, lets get you some fluids and food and meds. Then you can go to bed in my room. Bucky took your elbow in hand and helped you stand up and guided you towards the kitchen.

"'Bucky, it's nothing to make a fuss about. I am fine. Let me go home, please I have chores to do." You halfheartedly pulled at you arm.

"Y/N, I don't think so. Come on, food, water, meds, sleep, hun. In that that order. I will even loan you my shirt to sleep in." Bucky's grip didn't slacken at your tugging. You looked between the kitchen and his front door before the words registered.

"The red one?" You asked quietly like it was a secret. "It is my favorite."

"If you want. You can have anything you want." Bucky kept the thrill he felt when you admitted to having a favorite shirt of his. Bucky wanted to repeat his demands but knew that you knew them.

You felt like shit and having someone to dote on you wouldn't be unwanted. You knew from past experience that being sick was terrible but being sick and alone was unbearable.

"Fine. I will eat and take meds then I will go home. I am not interrupting your Team-Bonding any more than I already have." You tell Bucky. You peek at his teammates-who some you recognize and some you don't-you were trying to look like they weren't just watching the two of you. Bucky nodded at you with an overly innocent look.

"Yes, My dear. Whatever you say." You flinched at his words and Bucky looed at you with a question in his eyes as he helped you sit down in the kitchen island.

You sat down ungracefully still groggy and wibbly. You placed you head on crossed arms but kept your eyes on Bucky. "Don't call me that. That is what my dad called my mom when they would fight." You mumbled.

"Okay, baby-girl, okay." Bucky pulled out a bowl and served you some soup he'd been simmering for a while. You stayed slumped in your chair patiently, zoning out, listening to Bucky puttering around the kitchen and the others playing their game. Bucky glanced over to you and saw your glazed over eyes and pale skin and purple smudges under your eyes. He felt his heart clench at your appearance. Bucky brought over the bowl, pressing featherlight kiss to your hair. "Here's some soup. Full disclosure? This is yours, from when Steve's nightmares started acting up last month? I froze it and thawed it out to eat today." You huffed a laugh and leaned your weight into Bucky's chest for a second before pulling away to eat. Bucky sat down next to you. Tylenol and water found their home next to the bowl of soup. You began to dig in, slowly. Bucky sat with you for a bit.

"Good idea to freeze it. I need to make some stuff. Especially if I am going to use it as bribery to meet everyone. Sargent Barnes? Go on and play. You did your job. I will eat drink and be miserable right here, then I shall steal your clothes and bed. You'll never get rid off me then." You tried to get him to go to his teammates, guilt flooding you for taking him away from his team.

Bucky only grinned at you, dimples showing, eyes lighting up. "That is kinda the plan, doll. Minus the be miserable part." Bucky ruffled your hair affectionately.

"Cause I'm your girl?" You said teasingly. But you could hear the insecurity behind it and knew he could too.

"Yep. My girl. My best girl." Bucky said without hesitation. You beamed at him, reassured for now. you nudged him with you elbow. "Go on, play your games. I think, though, Trivial Pursuit is an unfair advantage for the others considering you were locked away like a pint of Ben and Jerry's for 70 years."

Bucky tuned in time to see everyone direct their gaze from the two of you. He sighed but said nothing, knowing the behavior was born from concern for him and curiosity about you. Not just anyone had a key to their apartment or free rein over it either. Bucky turned to see you went back to eating. He sat down to go back to the game. "Okay, we got at max 45 minutes until she is out again. I gave her nighttime cold medication instead of regular Tylenol." Steve clapped in friend on the back in support. They would apologize when you woke back up again.

"You gonna introduce us? She said she wanted to meet us." Natasha asked. Bucky could see how antsy everyone was to meet you. He knew his answer wouldn't help. "Not right now. She needs rest. One day yes. She won't appreciate being dropped into a first meeting. She works very hard and she is very important to me. I don't want to cause her distress."

"I know that isn't what you guys want to hear but please be patient. She is amazing, she was completely unfazed when we asked to help her move in and she realized who we are. She didn't freak out or anything. Just thanked us and dropped off cookies. She is a polite and considerate woman who deserves our respect. She'll want to meet you when she believes she won't embarrass us." Steve took over when Bucky trailed off. "She takes care of us when she can, because she doesn't take car of herself." Steve raised his voice to carry into the kitchen.

"That's fucking rich coming from the multiple 4-F-lying-on-government-forms-jumping-without-parachutes-reckless idiot." You snapped back finally standing up from the table. You eyed the dishwasher but ultimately decided to put you bowl in the sink, you headache had shrank but you still feared it falling off if you bent over.

"If you have time to sass Steve, you time to take meds." Bucky reminded you.

"I just took them, dad." You stuck your tongue out at him. "Do I get to be introduced?" You smiled but Bucky could see the tense set of your shoulders and how your eyes jumped from person to person.

"Nope. I am not giving you any excuse to skip your nap. Go on, if you want to take a show-"

You moaned in delight. "Oh, god, yes, please." You shuffled over to where you knew the bathroom to be not paying attention to how Bucky was struggling to push down thoughts of how else he could get those noises out of you.

"Everything is in the bathroom." Bucky called out as the door shut. He spun to face Steve, eyes wide and hands wringing. "Steve" Bucky whined pitifully.

Steve looked up to see Bucky's distraught look. Steve offered no support only shaking his head in amusement. Bucky flopped down, feeling dramatically unsettled. He was aware he had a possessive streak a mile wide and you were going to be wet and slippery in his shower, using his soaps, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed. It was enough to fell a weaker man but Bucky was better than that. He would respect your boundaries and wait for the proper opening. Laughter from the game grabbed his attention, he chose to actively follow the game feeling guilty about his raunchy thoughts and neglect of his friends. "Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to ignore you."

Natasha didn't say anything just smiled knowingly at the ever so slight sheen of sweat at Bucky's temple. The Maximoff Twins waved away the apology.

"Dude, if I was you, I would have kicked everyone out and taken care of my girl." Sam said.

"She would have left first. She sees herself as the second choice. Something I hope to unlearn her of. I want to help her more, slowly I am learning her personality. But I constantly freeze in the moment. She's always so busy. I am trying to help by making her lunch and keeping her place tidy. That really seemed to help." Bucky said.

"That is a good idea. Why not invite her as your date to the Stark Charity Gala in a few months?" Sam suggested. Bucky seemed to think on it for a moment and looked to Steve, who nodded.

"Fine. I will ask her to the gala. that should give her time to find a dress and get off work." The group cheered lightly. "But!" They paused. "I will only ask her as my official date if Steve asks Tony. No matter what I will ask her to go for a night out because she deserves it." Bucky challenged his old friend. The other members of the team cheered once more. Steve and Tony's mutual pining was frustrating enough, adding on Bucky and yours's was nauseatingly frustrating.

The excitement of the possible feelings resolution was enough to get everyone involved in the game once more. Bucky kept an ear out for you in case you needed something. 20 minutes later and you shuffled out of the bathroom, looking extremely refreshed. Bucky almost swallowed his tongue, his red shirt and sweat draped off your much smaller frame and he could smell his shampoo in your hair and his body wash on your skin.

"Sargent Bar-"Bucky shot you a look. "James." Earned you another. "Bucky" You sighed. "Bucky, Steve, everyone, sorry I ruined you afternoon. I didn't mean to intrude." You played with the hem of his shirt, looking small and tired.

"We already covered this. You didn't ruin anything." Bucky said firmly without any heat. You flinched anyway. "I gave you a key. I want you to use it. I didn't give it to you with conditions, I gave it to you for both my sanity and yours." Bucky got up and walked over to you. "I am glad you used it today. Please understand, you are my best girl. I want you here, wearing my clothes, smelling like me. I want you with me, near me, all of it." Bucky paused. He was coming on strong and he didn't want to push you away.

"I know. But...I don't want to assume anything.:" you said quietly into his chest. Bucky pulled you into a tight hug. He rubbed your back with one hand and stroked your hair with his metal hand.

"Assume away, pretty girl. I may have reached out because you had helped us so much but now? I want you around because I want you and I care for you." Bucky held you tight for another moment.

"Okay. I am sorry. I am a mess. I get whiny and insecure when I am sick." You pressed your face deeper into his chest.

"Y/N, you are a registered nurse, living on her own in NYC. You are friends with most if not all the Avengers. You are sweet and amazing and compassionate. I know sometimes the hard days turn into hard weeks and you get lost in the fog but you are working through it. You know when to ask for help even if you hate it. You aren't a mess. Maybe a little disheveled but that is easy to straighten out." Bucky pulled away slightly to slid his left hand to your back and his right to your thighs, picking you up to cradle in his arms. "Now, let's get you into bed. You still have two day off and a cold to get rid of."

"Okay, Bucky. Thank you." You mumbled. You wanted to tell him to put you down but the idea of being coddled and carried won out quickly. Your awareness was getting fuzzy around the edges. "You didn't give me Tylenol did you?" You said as Bucky tucked you into his bed. He turned on some music very softly to drown out the noise in the living room, not answering you.

"You need anything, ask me. I mean it, anything. Until then...Sleep tight, my sweet girl. See you later." Bucky kissed you temple, heading towards the door.

"Thank you, sweetheart." You mumbled before nodding off. Bucky physically melted, tension leaving his back and shoulders as he shut the door.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #protective Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x nurse! reader #bucky barnes x medical! reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x tony stark #steve rogers fanfiction #Stony #saundrasays #saundraswriting #Need Some TLC fic

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bobasheebaby · 5 years

Text

Smoke- Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 6

Pairing: Drake x MC; (past) Liam x MC

Word count: 1,130

Warnings: mental illness, manipulation, evil Liam

Summary: Those closest to Drake try to convince him to get help.

Song inspiration: Smoke by Medic

A/N: A huge thank you to @sirbeepsalot for all of her help and advice and being an ever patient sounding board. (MoE thanks DoE as well.) The characters have taken over! First Drake with his accusations and well now this mess. I have no clue what’s going on and I am 100% innocent! Next chapter will be Monday or Tuesday. (7/22 or 7/23) *hides*

Series warnings: Evil Liam, dark!fic, deceit, manipulation, dub con, possible NSFW content, possible character death. This is taking the Liam from TRH to the extreme, he is not the Liam we know and love. By clicking read more you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

Drake nervously paced the room, he felt on edge, like everyone was pointing at him and mocking him. Why did I think I could do this? Everyone around me knew I’d fail, why’d I think I could actually do this? I’m a fraud. I’m not a Duke, I don’t belong here. What was I thinking? His mind raced repeating every self doubt he’d had since Rebecca was named duchess. He never wanted this life, but it now came with her, so he lied to himself, convinced himself he could do anything with her by his side. Stupid. I was stupid to think I could hack it. He gritted his teeth as a pain rolled through his abdomen. What the hell is wrong now? It’s not enough that I’m sterile and a failure of a Duke?

“Drake, please come sit down.” Rebecca’s voice pulled him from the depths of his personal hell.

“Why? You’re all going to talk like I’m not here anyway. So go ahead decide what’s best for me! That’s why you’re all here, isn’t it?” Drake barked, his entire body appearing wild and feral.

“Drake.” Savannah’s voice shook with worry. “We’re here because we’re worried about you. We care about you. We just want you to get help.”

“Help? I don’t need help.” I need everyone to stop laughing at me.

Rebecca shook her head. She didn’t understand why he was so defensive and constantly lashing out. She couldn’t even recognize him anymore, gone was the marshmallow she fell in love with. Did I make a mistake? Did I choose the wrong man? She turned to look at Liam, his perfect kingly stoicism in place. No one could read him, except her. She could see the concern in his eyes and features. She wanted to reach out and try to show him she was thankful for his support, but she knew it would only prove to make Drake believe she was being unfaithful. Maybe I made the wrong choice, would I be happier as queen? Nope. Can’t go there. You love Drake. But he’s changed. He’s sick. But he thinks I’m cheating, how much is illness and how much is him? Does he really believe I would do that to him? But don’t you want to? But I haven’t! Her mind warred with itself, she felt pulled in two different directions and was unsure which way was up. She looked up in surprise when Savannah lightly touched her shoulder. What did I miss?

“Look at all this is doing to you and Rebecca Drake. You need help.”

Drake laughed, his eyes darting between Rebecca and Liam. “She’ll be fine she has her knight in shining armor.”

Rebecca recoiled, his words once again slapping her across the face. Is this the life I signed up for? Is this what really will make me happy? Can I survive always defending myself?

“Do you really think she would cheat on you? Do you really think Liam would do that to you?” Savannah pressed, trying to break through to her older brother.

“I know they already have.” He looked at all the faces around the room, none of them staying in focus. What the fuck is wrong with me? No, I’m fine it’s just anger! “Bas, you’ve been quiet what do you think? Do you think I’m going crazy too?”

“I think Drake, that you and Savannah were both too young to know how bad it got with your mother. And I’m worried about you.” But it was different. “This is how it was for Bianca, she became paranoid, lashed out, but she refused help. It got really bad, you two wouldn’t know but your father asked me to take you for a few days. It’s still early for you, you need treatment. Your mother is doing much better on meds.” Drake scoffed. “I know, you want to think you can do this yourself Drake but I really think you need to get some help before you hurt yourself or someone else.”

“I wouldn’t hurt anyone and you know that Bas!”

“You drove drunk.”

“And it was fine!”

“You got lucky! You could have killed yourself or someone else! You keep doing this Drake and eventually your luck will run out. And if you kill someone Drake, not even Liam could help you then. Please get help.”

“I don’t need to help!”

Bastien’s jaw tensed. Something is going on, but if I don’t get him help he could regret it. “Drake, you are getting help. Either you check yourself in for a seventy two hour hold or I will check you in for a hell of a lot longer.” He’ll be safe, we can find out exactly what’s going on.

Drake narrowed his eyes. Why won’t they just let me be? “You can’t be serious!”

“I’m very serious. You are hurting everyone in this room by not caring for yourself. You need help. So what will it be?”

Drake stared at Liam, the ever perfect king, not a scratch in his perfect kingly facade. His eyes drifted to Rebecca, falling apart at the seams. Why the fuck did I think I would be enough for her? She should have never chosen me! She wants him, she can have him. “I’m out of here.”

Rebecca blinked back tears. Why can’t he see we care about him? “Drake, please.”

Drake shook his head in dismay. Why won’t she admit I’m not who she wants? She’s already sleeping with him, she can have everything with him.

“Let him go.”

Liam’s voice causing everyone to look at him. “What?” Rebecca asked as startled by his words as the thrill she felt from them.

“He clearly thinks he doesn’t need help, and us forcing him won’t do anything. He’s the only one who can help him. If we force him to go be evaluated nothing with change unless he believes he has a problem.”

You just want me out of the way, but I concede, you’re the better man. You’re who she should have chosen. “Finally someone is making sense.”

Bastien felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Why doesn’t he want Drake to get help. “You’re not going anywhere, Drake. I refuse to sit back and watch you destroy yourself and everyone around you because you think you’re fine.”

Rebecca released a breathe as Bastien rose, taking hold of Drake as he escorted him to the car. He needs this. He needs the help. She felt like she was precariously hanging by the tips of her fingers on over a steep cliff as she watched Savannah follow. I can’t be alone. Her hand reached out, fingers wrapping around his forearm, halting his steps. She looked up at him with sad sapphire eyes. “Stay.”

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

Taglist will be reblogged.

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thebibliosphere · 5 years

Text

*Sigh*.

Mum finally made it home, but not after being given the absolute run around by the Queen Elizabeth hospital.

Cut for medical abuse and just downright fuckery. I’d appreciate if this wasn’t reblogged but honestly I’ve given up on asking people.

Her surgery and subsequent care was carried out at Gartnavel, and while the plastic surgeon had been round to see her three times, the doctor who carried out the actual cancer removal surgery has yet to even check in on Mum once since her surgery last Wednesday. So, in order for mum to be discharged today, they told her dad could drive her to the Queen Liz over in Govan, where this breast specialist was supposedly working the weekend. So they tell her to get there between the hours of 10am and 11am. Gartnavel—where it has to be said, the nursing staff were quite literally live saving earlier this week when they noticed Mum’s blood pressure destabilizing—discharged her at 9am, and mum and dad drove over to the Queen Liz and are told there will be a 20 minute wait before the doctor will be able to see them.

Which, cool, fine whatever, do they want her to wait in an exam room? Nope. “the waiting room” which is basically a corridor with some seats jammed in. Right. Okay.

Twenty minutes come and go, and my mother is seriously ill feeling from all the meds she’s on, not to mention recovering from breast removal surgery, dad goes and asks the nurse if they can wait somewhere else. No can do guv, but here’s a sick basket. He asks if the doctor will at least be out soon, and the nurse rolls her eyes at him and says the doctor is very busy sir, and gestures to the empty waiting room. 20 minutes turns into 40 then 60. Dad goes and asks again, cause Mum is really not doing well. The nurse he spoke to first time around has gone for her lunch. The new nurse has no record of Mum, but she’ll tell the doctor they're waiting. Another 20 minutes pass and nothing happens. And then another. At which point dad goes and says “listen, we’ve been waiting for over an hour” and the nurse says “no sir you’ve only bee waiting 20.”

Dad politely asks to speak to someone else. He is informed there is no one else, but the doctor—the breast specialist who carried out my mother’s surgery, for which she has had many complications since last Wednesday—will be there soon. Another 15 minutes go by and the original nurse comes back, and the nurse on the desk goes away. Dad goes and asks her if there’s been any progress made, and the nurse looks at the screen and says “who are you here to see?”

“Dr. {Name},” Dad informs her tersely, and the nurse looks at the screen and says “oh, she went home at 9am, did no one tell you?”

At which point Mum who tagged along with Dad starts getting extremely upset. She gets so upset she faints. Miraculously several doctors appear from nowhere. She is put into an exam room and a surgeon registrar is found, and when Dad tells her how long they’ve been waiting she shakes her head and tells him no one informed her there was a patient waiting. She looks at Mum, and at the wound in her chest, and informs her seriously that the site is infected. Mum starts crying, she just wants to go home, she thinks she’ll die if she can’t go home. The SR prescribes a fourth set of antibiotics, and says Mum can go home, but if her fever spikes or if she starts vomiting to call and ambulance. She needs to go back to Gartnavel on Tuesday to get the wound checked and see if the infection needs to be drained. Then Thursday, she will find out the results of the biopsy with the breast expert who still hasn’t checked on my mother since last Wednesday when she removed her left breast. Dad asks glibly, will she be there? And the SR tells him to call first and make sure, which just, what the actual fuck. What in the nine circles of hell and damnation fuck.

Is breast cancer surgery her hobby? Is that what’s going on here? Is it me? Or are you supposed to check on your patients after you remove a sizeable chunk of their body? Did I hallucinate that concept of medical care?

Also, Dad took pics of the Queen Liz while they were there, it’s a £842 million quid state of the art hospital and it’s fucking manky. There’s dust balls on the floor the size of my hand, and considering they’re being investigated for deaths related to pigeon shit in the ventilation system, you’d think they’d be a little more careful about things like making sure the hospital looks clean? But apparently nah. £842 million and not a single bright spark thought to put pigeon wire over the ventilation intakes. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Anyway. Mum is home, and already feeling much better, simply by virtue of having her own bed to sleep in. She’ll have to go back up to Gartnavel on Tuesday morning to get her wound seen to. And who knows, maybe the surgeon will actually fucking be there. Either way, it’s 2am my time and Dad just texted me all the details I need to help him write a letter of complaint because he doesn’t know how to. Fortunately, Mum taught me the art of letter writing, particularity the art of flaying people alive via eviscerating politeness.

God fuck that hospital and all those people. Fuck those nurses and fuck the surgeon. I hope they stub their toes on the sharp edge of the coffee table from now until eternity. I’m so fucking angry I’m just sobbing. I thought I had a handle on it earlier when I first found all this out. Turns out I was just saving it up for the appropriate time to have a mental breakdown, which as we all know, is the allotted time between midnight at 3am. God fucking dammit.

#long post #medical abuse #medical neglect #personal #vent post #I'm so angry #and genuinely triggered cause haha #ptsd from medical trauma sure is fun #should text my therapist #*shudder*

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

Text

One Week - Peter Parker

The six times Peter Parker realized he was falling for you and the one time he did something about it.

Monday.

“So who studied for this test over the weekend?” Your voice, and the sound of your book bag slamming against his desk, jolted Peter from his day dreaming. Looking up he met your gaze and noted how your smile seemed to reach the corners of your eyes. He wished that you smiled like that all the time. He always thought you looked stunning, but when you smiled….you were absolutely breathtaking. To the point where Peter would become speechless.

“I sure didn’t!” Ned chimed in, helping Peter refocus. You nodded at Ned, explaining that you were in the same boat. Peter took the time to catch up with himself; but you were so distracting. Was it something different you wore or was it just that smile of yours? He tried to swallow the feeling that rose up in his throat.

“I don’t think anyone did,” you agreed, then glanced back to Peter. “Except Mr. Smarty-Pants here, of course.” You reached over and ruffled Peter’s curly hair. He let out a breathy laugh, hoping that it masked the pounding of his heart in his chest.

“I-I did, actually. I can give you the rundown if you want?” You smiled at him again, a new glimmer in your eyes, and the same tickling sensation swarmed in Peter’s chest once more. It was your smile.

“It’s alright, thank you though, Pete.” He opened his mouth to protest, offer his time up again. He wanted you to take his time. Peter found himself missing those days where Aunt May would pick you both up from school for play dates. Playground meetings turned to study gatherings as you grew and they felt so rare now. Ever since he had adopted the mantle of Spiderman, Peter felt more and more empty as he spent less of his time with you. It felt, like every time you were with him, he was left yearning for more.

“Y/N, do you maybe want to-” Before he could finish the bell rang, signalling the start of class.

“Good luck, fellas,” you said as you made your way to your own desk. Peter let the words die on his lips as you walked away. Ned watched as his friend’s shoulders fell. He clapped Peter on the shoulder.

“You nervous?” Peter gave his friend a quick glance before letting his gaze fall to you.

“You could say that, yeah.”

Tuesday.

“Peter?” The sound of his name falling from your lips sent shivers down his spine. Even over the booming beat and bassy notes that filled the living room, Peter could pick out your voice with ease. As if he had been finely tuned just for you. Turning, he drank in your visage.

“Hey, Y/N,” he breathed out, smiling at you shyly. You looked like what Peter could only describe as perfection. His eyes scanned up and down your form, wishing that you had come to the party with him. He loved Ned, really, but it was you. It was always going to be you.

“What are you doing here? You’re not a party person!” You wrapped your arms around Peter’s neck, pulling him in for a hug. His arms curled around your torso and he held you in such a way where he could feel your heart beating within your rib cage. He savored the smell of your body wash until you pulled away and he forced himself out of the haze.

“It was Ned’s idea,” Peter explained, gesturing to the boy dancing, or trying to, with a larger group of people. “He told me you were here so…”

“Aw, you came here for me?” A bright blush rose to Peter’s cheeks and he was grateful for the multicolored, flashing lights that hid it from your sight. “How sweet.” He bit his bottom lip and looked down at his shoes. When had just talking to you become so hard?

“Y-Yeah,” he started, but the threat of bile in his throat hindered him from speaking further. You stood before him, waiting for more from him. He scratched the back of his head, trying to summon any type of courage. At first he had thought it was just hormones. High schoolers are basically controlled by their hormones, he had learned that in Health class. This would pass; at least that was what he first thought.

But now, with the way you were looking at him, he knew that this was no passing feeling. He wanted you, he needed you in ways he couldn’t convey. He didn’t want to be your friend, not anymore. He wanted to kiss you, hold you; but there was that wall. The fear that blocked him from you.

“Well, let’s not just stand here!” Before he could question what you meant, Peter felt your hand grab his and begin to pull him after you. The music grew louder with each step and it took all he had not to run away. “C’mon, Pete,” you said, almost sensing his apprehension.

Soon enough, he was standing in front of you again with bodies twisting around the two of you. Your hands still held his and you began to guide his movement. Turning, spinning like his very world, you danced around him. Giggles escaped your throat and Peter wondered if you were laughing at his expression or if you were taunting his heart with the melody of your voice.

Soon, Peter started to move too. Without rhythm, but with you to guide him, he moved. If he closed his eyes, blocked out the hollers of the other around him, Peter could pretend it was just you. Just you and him, like how it was when he dreamed. Just like how he wished it could be.

Then the music slowed, the heavy beat turned into the soft strumming of a guitar. You slowed your movements and let go of Peter’s hand. He yearned to feel it’s warmth again. Peter dared to reach out, his fingers just skimming your forearm. You turned back to him, your eyes sparkling like stars in darkened skies.

“Y/N, I, do you-” Suddenly, you were plucked away from him. Your face turned away to look at whomever pulled you to the side. Peter had seen his face before at school. He had seen him undress you with his eyes and Peter had felt anger towards him. He wanted to save you, but as the music carried on, so did you. You were dancing and it wasn’t with him.

Sadly, Peter walked off of the dance floor. His brow was furrowed as he strode towards the door. As he walked out of the party, he mentally cursed Ned. This was a bad idea. As Peter Parker walked out into the night, Ned watched his friend’s heart fall away.

Wednesday.

People were still recovering from the party Tuesday night. Flash complained of a migraine while MJ mocked those who wore the same clothes from last night to school that morning. Their words fell weakly off of Peter’s numbed shoulders. Anytime Ned wooted and referenced the party, Peter would grumble. It wasn’t until you showed up during lunch that Peter’s demeanor changed altogether.

“Hiya, guys,” you said, taking the empty seat beside Peter. Immediately, he felt the warmth of your body against his arm. “You all have fun last night?” Your question was met with cheer and grunts alike, but Peter just stared at you. People began to reminisce again about the dancing and food. You had fallen silent, suddenly leaning against Peter’s shoulder.

“You okay?” He asked in the hopes of distracting you from the way his breathing had shallowed. You were so close to him now, your head resting on his shoulder and your arm curled around his own. Moving against him slightly, just enough to look into his eyes.

“How are you not exhausted?” Peter let out a small, nervous laugh.

“I-I left early,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear, “after we danced.” You cocked your head, your chin digging into his shoulder a bit.

“Really? You should have stayed. You were a far superior dance partner.”

“Oh-h, sorry. I just figured that the other guy-” A shout caught your attention, drawing it back to the whole of the table. A heavy sigh fell from Peter’s lips as he was cut off once again. It seemed to be a reoccurring thing whenever he tried to talk to you now. He figured it was just his own nerves and continued to watch you. You began to speak to everyone, but you body remained against his. You were so relaxed in this tired state.

Peter found himself lost in features. The fluttering of your lashes to the curve of your lips. He dreamed of a day similar to the current one, where you were still tired. You were sleepy, leaning against him, laughing with him. The tender imagined image in his head lulled him into a false sense of comfort. Feeling an overwhelming wave of contentment, Peter allowed himself a touch. With you head still on his shoulder, he rested his head atop of yours.

You shifted against him, but surprised Peter when you didn’t pull away. Glancing around, Peter saw that MJ had raised her eyebrow at the display and that Ned’s eyes had widened slightly. He felt self-conscious under their gazes, his knee began to bounce beneath the table wildly. Before his cowardice grew further and he pulled away, he felt your hand rest against his leg.

“What is it?” Your voice was quiet, soothing. Peter lifted his head and saw that your eyes were filled with concern. In that moment, he could have swore that his heart had burst inside his chest. You glowed it seemed, with your head cocked to the side as you studied his face.

“Uh, nothing,” Peter said quickly. He turned his face away from you then, anxiously looking towards the clock in the cafeteria. Despite his dismissal, your hand remained on his leg for the rest of lunch. The burning in Peter’s cheeks went unnoticed by you but, with a glance at his friends, Peter knew that they had seen it.

Thursday.

“Hey, Aunt May!” You cheered as Peter pushed the door to the apartment open. You rushed inside and ran to Aunt May’s open arms. Peter smiled at the scene, closing the door with his foot as he stepped inside.

“Y/N! It’s been too long! I hope you’re staying for dinner! We’re ordering out tonight!” Peter furrowed his brows, turning his gaze towards the kitchen. Pots were loaded up in the sink and a pungent odor wafted to his nose.

“The recipe didn’t turn out?” He asked his aunt as you pulled away from her embrace. She let out a huff, causing you laugh lightly. Peter’s eyes drifted to you the moment the sound reached his ears.

“Rachel Ray is overrated anyway,” Aunt May mused, “you kids get to studying. I’ll order the takeout.” Peter nodded and grabbed the bag you had left on the floor. “Y/N, we’re ordering from the place on Marvin Avenue, you know, that small place. You want the usual?”

“Yes, please!” You said, following Peter into his room. He smiled at the fact you were so comfortable with Aunt May, his family. As you both settled in his room, you turned to Peter, that same smile on your face. The one that haunts his thoughts constantly.

“What?” He asked, smiling up at you from his spot on his desk chair.

“She’s right,” you said, “it’s been too long since I've been here. I’ve missed home.” Peter felt his jaw drop slightly, causing him to turn away to compose himself. When he turned back to face you, you were already near his bed and thumbing through the fantasy novel on his nightstand.

“It has,” he agreed and he heard a hum escape you in response. You spun on your heels, still smiling but now facing him again. While you were only a few paces away, merely a leap across his bedroom floor, Peter felt like you were so out of reach. Yet you were right there, standing before him in all your glory.

“P-Peter?” Your voice was shaky when to asked for him, drawing your eyes to the floor for a brief moment before looking at him once more.

“Y-Yeah?” Peter asked, standing up. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. This was it. He was done for, and if not, he would make it so. There was a long pause after his question. You licked your bottom lip, a habit Peter had noticed you do when you’re thinking, and then shook your head.

“Nevermind, we should start studying before it gets too late.” You walked over to the desk and rummaged through your bag, pulling out the book you would be needing. Peter watched on, his whole body thrumming in anticipation. He needed to make a move, he wanted to. Especially now that MJ and Ned were texting him nonstop, pestering him with questions that he only wanted your answers to. Did you love him like he loves you?

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you.” You turned to met his hazel eyes and Peter noticed how your stance had changed.

“What is it?” You asked, leaning towards him slightly. Peter felt his resolve shaking. C’mon dude, you’re Spiderman, just do it, he thought to himself. He took a step closer, so close that your faces were a few inches apart. He saw your eyes dart from his to his lips and Peter tried his best to suppress the rush he got from that small tick. “Peter?”

His name again, in your voice; it sounded like a song. His favorite song. Even when you were both young, whenever you called out to him, a smile like the one on his lips in that very moment would decorate his features. Who knew that you both would have ended up here?

“I wanted to tell you that-”

“Y/N! They’re out of your usual order! Is there something else you want?” Aunt May pushed open Peter’s door, her cell phone pressed against her ear. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed how close the two of you were and Peter turned to hide his blush. “Am I-”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having then, May,” you replied smoothly. Peter, with his outstretched senses could hear the fast-paced beating of your heart. Had he scared you?

“Alrighty then,” May said before leaving his room. He glanced at her nephew one last time before disappearing behind the door. Peter now stood a pace or two away from you, his eyes glued to the floor. Perhaps now wasn’t the time. Maybe there would never be a time.

“What did you want to tell me Peter?” He turned at your question, his eyes meeting yours before he shook his head the same way you had.

“I-I, uh, I forgot. It’s okay, I’ll tell you if I remember later.” He reached out towards his desk and grabbed the books. He settled, crossed legged on the floor and looked up at you expectantly. “Study time?”

You smiled at him again and, damn it, he felt the ache in his heart return. “Heck yeah! Let’s do this!”

Friday.

“So let me get this straight,” MJ sighed, pinch the bridge of her nose, “Y/N came over to your place and you didn’t spill the beans?!” Peter nodded and MJ let out a groan. Ned sighed and shook his head at Peter.

“Dude, you’re gonna regret that!”

“I know, Ned, but I just….it left like, if I did tell Y/N, everything would change.” MJ glared at Peter as he spoke.

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” Peter’s brow furrowed and she continued, “you are friends with Y/N right now, but you want to be more, right?” Peter nodded. “Then things are going to have to change, Parker! I thought you were smart!”

“I know that,” Peter said, raising his hands in the air, “but I don’t want to, I don’t want to lose Y/N. I’m scared that if I say what I want to say that…”

“Pete,” Ned said, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Y/N would never stop hanging out with you. You’re like, best friends, more than you and I! You’ve known each other since grade school, right?” Peter nodded and MJ let out another sigh.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? You’ll be fine, Y/N will be fine, you’ll date and live happy ever after!” She waved her arms to emphasize the joy of it all but Peter frowned.

“Then why do you sound sarcastic?”

“It’s just the way I sound.” Peter raised an eyebrow at her and MJ sighed, looking around the room. Her eyes widened suddenly and Peter glanced in the direction she was facing. “Peter, don’t….”

It was too late. He was already looking. You were leaning a shoulder against the wall, talking with the guy from the party. He must’ve said something funny because you threw your head back, laughing in the way Peter wished he could play on repeat. The two of you continued talking and Peter turned back, his eyes diverted towards the surface of the table.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Ned said quickly, “they’re just talking!” Peter nodded, but his face betrayed him. Y/N was amazing, that guy would be stupid not to make a move.

“You’re right, MJ,” Peter said, standing from his spot, “I’m not that smart after all.” As he moved away from the table, he spared one last glance over his shoulder. You looked beautiful, even if you weren’t right next to him. He would just have to get used to feeling this way.

Saturday.

“Peter?” Aunt May’s voice sounded from behind the locked door of Peter’s bedroom. Rolling to the side of the bed, Peter’s eyes fell on the door. “Peter, can you open this up please? You’ve been in here all morning?”

Begrudgingly, Peter reached for his web shooter. Once it was on his wrist, he shot it towards the door. The webs spread across the brass handle and pulled, undoing the lock on the door. The web fell slack and Peter threw the mechanism to the side.

“It’s open now,” Peter grumbled, turning in his bed again. He heard the door creak open and the soft foot falls of Aunt May’s feet against the floor. Closing his eyes, Peter tried to block the thoughts of you out of his mind so he could hide from his aunt’s, undoubtedly, pestering amount of questions. As he felt the side of his mattress dip under Aunt’s May’s weight, Peter opened his eyes.

“Are you feelin’ alright?” Before he could respond, Aunt May pressed the back of her hand to Peter’s forehead.

“Aunt May,” Peter groaned, “I’m not sick.”

“Then why are you all bundled up in here? I’m sure Ned and Y/N are free.” Peter stayed silent and she nudged him, “C’mon, it’s the weekend.”

“Jus’ not feeling’ it today,” Peter lied. He had been ‘feelin’ it’ all week, and that was his problem. Aunt May sighed and made a ‘tsk’ sound with her tongue.

“You know, it’s like an Aunt superpower; detecting falsehoods.”

“Falsehoods?” Peter questioned, the slightest of smile gracing his lips.

“I can say ‘falsehoods’! It’s a fair use word!” Peter let out a weak chuckle, which only seemed to deepen the creases in his aunt’s face. “Now, what’s really the matter?”

“It’s….It’s Y/N,” Peter began, “I...think I….”

“You love Y/N?” The words that Peter had been trying to voice over the past five to six days flew from his aunt’s lips without a problem. How could it be that easy? Could it truly be that simple?

“Y-Yeah,” Peter stuttered, “I think….yeah, I do.” Aunt May smiled at him, as the weight that had been dragging Peter down finally dissipated. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

“Y/N doesn’t know then, I take it?” Peter nodded his head and Aunt May merely smiled. “Peter Benjamin Parker,” she ran her fingers through her nephew’s hair in a motherly gesture, “you are the bravest young man I know. You’re the smartest and sweetest on top of that.”

“Aunt May,” Peter mumbled, his face burning slightly.

“Y/N sees that, trust me. Those study dates you two have, I can feel it.” She leaned down a pressed a quick kiss to Peter’s forehead. “I love you, Peter.”

“Love you too, May,” Peter said, scooting up so he could hug his aunt. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she hummed, smiling down at him. “Just practice safe sex.”

“Aunt May!”

Sunday.

Peter’s feet landed softly on the fire escape outside the window of apartment J17. It was like greeting an old friend as he tapping on the glass. It had been ages since he had done this. Showing up unexpected at your window was a rare treat now that he was Spiderman.

His heart pounded as he waited beside your window. He hoped you were home, that you weren’t with someone else. Peter swallowed his fear, trying his best to calm himself down. His shaking hand lifted once more to rap his knuckles against the glass again. He shifted on his feet, waiting nervously.

Soon the curtains parted and Peter was greeted by your wonderful smile. Pulling the window up, you leaned outside. The breeze that soared through Queens messed with your hair just as it did with Peter’s. In the sunlight, you seemed to glow before him.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” You clambered through the window, meeting him on your fire escape ledge. Carefully, you balance yourself but you leaned to the side awkwardly. Peter grabbed your forearms to steady you, smiling at you brightly.

“I just wanted to see you, is that a crime?”

“No,” you laughed, gripping his arms tightly, “you just surprised me. I haven’t heard from you since Thursday night.”

“Y-Yeah, about that...I was thinking about it. About what I wanted to tell you.”

“You remember it now?” Peter let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head.

“I never actually forgot,” he admitted. Your brows knitted together and Peter smiled sheepishly. He could feel his heart hammering within his rib cage. “I just…”

“Peter,” you said calmly, raising a hand to brush against his face. His mouth fell open slightly at the contact, his eyes searching yours. Your eyes scanned his and Peter felt a rush of affection flood his heart. Now.

“Y/N,” he paused once more, before shaking his head. He would not let fear control him anymore. “I love you. I’ve been trying to tell you all week and I-”

“Peter, just shut up and kiss me,” you interrupted. It was the first time all week that Peter Parker was happy to be cut off. Letting out a chuckle and pressed forward, capturing his lips with yours. He could feel you smile into the kiss and he felt himself do the same. Your hands shifted, tangling themselves in his chestnut curls.

Suddenly, you began to laugh. Peter pulled away from you, resting his hands on your waist to hold you closer to him. You managed to calm yourself slightly, resting your forehead against Peter’s. You were so warm that Peter almost didn’t want to ask.

“Why are you laughing?” “You were trying all week?”

#spiderman #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines #spiderman x reader #mj #ned leeds #aunt may #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction

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ittakesrain · 4 years

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Psycho Education

Psycho Education: Things I Learned in the Psychiatric Hospital

I knew I needed to be hospitalized. I’ve known that for a while. Hell, I tried to get myself into a hospital prior to this, because I was desperate for some relief, and nothing happened. I guess it all accumulated for the past year or so, though. I went to my psychiatrist for a normal appointment on February 10th, and she sent me to the ER like, immediately. She actually called them and told them I’d be coming (I felt like such a VIP: very important psycho). My boyfriend left work early and picked me up and we went. And thus began an interesting journey where I learned a bunch of things that I’m going to explain in a vaguely chronological but unimportant order. This doesn’t include everything, and I have so many more thoughts that I’m dying to get onto a page, but I think it’s important that my first post is positive and talks about the last month as a learning experience.

I was in the ER for a day and a half. It was an overwhelming experience. I was crying a lot, and I just wanted to lay there on the gurney under the sheets and be “alone.” But I was on Constant Observation (since I was suicidal) and had someone watching me at all times. And apparently I couldn’t go completely under the covers because they had to see that I wasn’t killing myself under there. So I was basically inconsolable.

I hated the guy watching me, at first. He would ask questions and I’d try to answer, but I’d just start crying at the fact that I didn’t think he understood what I was actually experiencing. How much pain I was in. Like…was he belittling me? I couldn’t tell.

I came around to him eventually. I don’t know when, exactly. Maybe after he went on his break. The nurse manager watched me while he was gone, and she was really nice. We talked a little bit, and maybe that little bit where I was broken out of my shell helped me not feel so upset with Charles who had to sit there and stare at me. Not that he was creepy; he wasn’t. He was cool. It was just a hard situation, and I was emotional and all over the place. I realized that seeking comfort is okay and even brave at times, but at the end of the day, when no one else can do it you have to do it yourself. I was lying there, tossing and turning, my mind racing, all of my painfully confused…and I had to just calm myself down. I’m not saying I was successful at that (I wasn’t). But the lesson stuck with me. I asked for help, and I’m proud that I did. But I also learned that I can’t get help with everything. I can’t have someone help me control my emotions, it doesn’t work that way.

Charles and I eventually got into conversation, and he imparted a gem of wisdom that totally relates and that I wrote down as soon as I had a notebook in which to do so: no one can swim for you and no one can breathe for you. I couldn’t tell you what the hell we were talking about (I’m assuming it was the impending hospitalization ahead of me), but it’s true. The coming weeks were something I was gonna have to face on my own.

Yeah, definitely true. Although once I got to the psych hospital, I wasn’t completely on my own. I made friends almost immediately (once I stopped crying, showered for the first time in three days, and actually consumed some sort of food). I guess there’s nothing quite like being locked up together to bring about friendships. It also probably helps that we were all in a similar place mentally and emotionally. We related to one another. We grew into a weird little dysfunctional family.

And dysfunctional we indeed were. Lock a bunch of crazies up together and shit DOES get intense. I realized pretty early on that sometimes it’s best to just walk away. Walk away from a fight or confrontation, walk away from a trigger. Hell, sometimes you even need to walk away from someone crying who just needs to cry. I loved when the other patients there calmed me down as I was crying. A fist-bump and a sneaky hug go a long way (we weren’t technically allowed to touch each other). But there were moments I just needed to cry. And I saw the same being true of other people.

We were a unique bunch. It became increasingly clear to me why you should never judge anyone without talking to them first. Like, everyone has their own shit. You literally never know someone’s story without asking them. And human beings are interesting, so ask! Listen to everyone’s story and learn from them, because my god is there so much to learn. Not to mention that people are all complicated, with or without mental illness. We’re all just different. It’s fascinating.

I sat down next to the schizophrenic who needed to be restrained and sedated the day before and actually talked to him. I was happy I did because he’s got a lot of wisdom inside of him next to all his fear. We sat there on the floor outside the med window after each taking our cocktail of pills, and started talking. The day after that was not one of my better ones. And he was the one to sit down next to me. “Hey,” he said. “Put out your hands like this.” I wiped my tears and looked up at him. I held out my hands in front of me. “Do you see them?” he asked, to which I responded with a tentative ‘yes.’ “See? You’re here, you’re safe, you’re okay.” I used that technique to ground myself a few more times after that.

I can’t talk about lessons learned in the psych hospital without mentioning how I learned to be thankful in a simple but grand way. I vowed that when I got out I’d stop taking day to day conveniences for granted. My phone and my laptop are wonderful tools I have, and I’ll never again forget how fucking cool they are. I was, however, already thankful for the support I am lucky enough to have. Every morning we had a “community meeting” where we told everyone how we were feeling, what our goal was for the day, and who our support was. I never once forgot how special the people around me are that they love and support me as much as they do.

Then there’s the lesson I’m continually re-learning: let it go. I really tried to tone down my reactions to minor little things while I was there. Like, I put serious effort into it. There were a few instances in the beginning when I was uhh…using humor as a coping mechanism, and it wasn’t received well by some of the staff. So I was told to stop. Which, okay, that’s fine, right? It is, and looking back I realize it right away now. But my general response is to feel stupid and dumb and dwell on the situation for far too long and then feel stupid again and just continue on and on. But I’m actually damn proud of how I let it go because I literally forgot about how angry I was at that staff member until just now. We turned out to be chill with each other anyway, and I’m glad we turned out that way because I feel happy to have known the guy. But yeah, I’m giving myself major props for that one, and I’m gonna remember this exact paragraph next time I go to overthink about something like that. I also want to phrase it differently, in case I didn’t make my point as effectively as I wanted to: don’t worry so much about what’s going on in other people’s heads, because you don’t have to live there.

As I got more stable (I’m gonna write a whole post about how that was able to happen to begin with, because holy shit was it a process), I started to get the itch to get the fuck out of there. I wanted to go home. I was naturally going stir-crazy, as you can imagine would happen after being cooped up for over two weeks, and I was even getting anxious wondering when they were gonna release me. I was tentatively scheduled to be discharged Tuesday the 25th, but on morning on the day before, I’d just about lost my mind wondering if that date was still set. The weekends went slow there, and no doctors or social workers were there, so I was left hanging and wondering. Anyway, as I was freaking out, another patient pulled me aside and told me that in his struggle with drugs, whenever he told himself “just don’t do drugs” every day, he’d inevitably wind up doing them. But “when I told myself I was gonna get up, go for a run, make breakfast, and so on, guess what I did?” I stared at him for a second. “I’m gonna go home tomorrow,” I told him, and he smiled and nodded. The moral of the story, I guess, is either that you attract what you think about, or that it’s easy to spot what you’re always thinking about. And it turns out I did go home the next day!

As I was getting ready to be discharged, I started to reflect back. I’d filled an entire marble notebook with thoughts and feelings, but there was still a lot I wanted to think about. Still a lot I had to think about. I said to the counselors and my social worker that even though I’d done so much work and self-reflection, I knew I still had a lot more work to do once I left. And oh boy is there still a lot of work to do haha. Self-discovery is a never-ending process. I think I used to let that overwhelm me, but honestly? It isn’t such a scary thing. Life is a never-ending process. Self-discovery is just a way of life.

And finally, because I actually do feel hopeful that I’ll succeed in my quest to be the best version of me: remember to have hope.

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cristinablackthornkingson · 4 years

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It’s only Tuesday and I’m having a terrible week.

Fuck me it’s only Tuesday and already I’ve had such a fucking shitty week. To start off with I’m not entitled to a medical card, which will allow me to visit my doctor for free and only pay about 2 euro per item for anything I buy on prescription. I have multiple physical and mental disabilities but because I’m 20 and young, I’m not entitled to disability, they say I can be trained because I’m young, despite the fact that I can’t be in loud crowded places because of my SPD and I can’t stand for long periods of time without being in total agony because of my scoliosis. I am entitled to free GP visits at least, but still. I didn’t get the flu shot this year because I couldn’t fucking afford it, and then I ended up catching the flu and was really sick for about a week, I had to spend 50 euro to see my doctor and then spend 25 euro on medication and I only get 112 euro a week, I’m not entitled to the full dole/unemployment because I’m under 25. So apparently 112 euro is too much for someone to have free medical care and free prescriptions. I’m late on my period for the first time in the 10 years I’ve been having them, what if something is wrong and I need treatment? I won’t be able to afford that, no way in hell. I had plans to work through my fear of surgery in therapy, so once I got my medical card I could maybe get top surgery at some stage to alleviate my dysphoria, I am so sick of not being able to look in the mirror without feeling physically ill and inherently wrong. I was hoping my doctor would refer me to a specialist and I could get a brace for my back, the medical card would have payed for that, but I absolutely cannot afford that now.

Then to put the cherry on the cake, I’ve been having issues at work for months, since I started. I’m a volunteer and the people I work for are the biggest cunts I have ever had the misfortune to meet. They are extreme staunch Christians who expect you to pay a swear jar at work if you say ‘God’ or any variation of that (take the Lord’s name in vain, but he’s not THE Lord, he’s your Lord and you cannot force me to not say his name in vain, if you don’t want to that’s fine, but I don’t believe in God so taking his name in vain means nothing to me) they expect customers to not take the lord’s name in vain in the shop, they are extremely dismissive of customers and extremely rude to customers of color. They can be nice to white people, but if they’re talking to POC, they’re so fucking rude to them, it sickens me. It’s no wonder nothing fucking sells.

One day a few weeks ago when I wasn’t needed out the back, I sat out the front at the cash register to try and get some experience in and see if I remembered what my co-worker had taught me. I couldn’t get the hang of it but it was not a big deal at all, nobody lost money or anything like that, I had someone else with me to help me when i couldn’t get it..

The next day I was sorting through the clothes like I always do and one of my bosses (I work for a married couple, a man and a woman) basically told me not to go behind the tills or around the tills anymore, now this guy wasn’t there the day before, so his wife obviously squealed on me to him, imagine being a maybe 40 something year old woman, squealing to her husband on your 20 year volunteer because they couldn’t work the till perfectly the first go, pathetic. He then also told me that he knows I need to sit down a lot (which is true, like I said because of my back I can’t stand for long periods of time) but then proceeded to tell me to ‘Go for a walk’ when I needed to instead of sitting down out the back, he told me to go to the benches at the back of the shopping center the shop is located in. This is they guy who told me he needs to know where I am at all times. I left work early at one stage because I was having awful period pains, two co-workers saw me go and so did this guy, but when I came in on Monday after that, he told me I disappeared didn’t tell him I was leaving. The only other possible explanation was that he meant I went to the toilet for 5 minutes the other day, without telling him. I’m sorry man, but I was in agony and I needed to check if I was bleeding heavily because I didn’t have any clean pads with me, so I would have needed to go home straight away if I was bleeding lots.

Then yesterday, we got two bags of clothes donated, I took it upon myself as most of us do, to take them out of the bag, check they were clean, label them and write the size on them so all that was left for the bosses to do was price them. Well there was no room to hang these clothes up so I thought ‘Okay well I’ll label them and everything anyway and then put them back in the bag, that way whenever there is space we just need to take them out, put them on hangers and hang them up’. Well when my boss (the woman, we’ll call her Boss 1 from now on) saw this, she told me I couldn’t be taking clothes out of bags and putting them back in. ???? Why??? They would have been lying there anyway, it’s not like they were taking up any room, I took initiative,I did you a favor.

Another thing, before I get into the last part, is on my first day I was told to hang my coat and bag in the little toilet area beside the stairs leading up to the attic. I did, and I did the same the next day, but then they told me not to leave them in there because customers sometimes go in there to try stuff on and might steal from me. Right okay, so I would leave my coat and bag in the back. Well I got told not to do that today, I was told to put my coat in the toilet area, so I did. But then when I went to look for my bag when I was leaving, it wasn’t where I left it nor was it in the toilet area, I was starting to freak out because my purse was in my bag. Thankfully I found it a few seconds later, under a chair where it was more in the way than it was where I had initially put it. Those bastards had the audacity to take MY property and MY stuff and move it without telling me, to where it could easily be mistaken for a donation and sold on me.

And what really topped it all off was what happened today.

I go into work this morning and at first everything is fine, I do my usual tidying of the clothes, and once that’s done I go out the back to see what needs to be done there. While I’m there my co-worker asks if I’ve seen the pricing gun, as it’s gone missing. I say no I haven’t, and have a look around for it myself, can’t see it.Then boss 1 comes in and asks my co-worker ‘Does Michelle know where the gun is?’ my co-worker says no, and Boss 1 asks me where I left it yesterday when I had priced clothes. I told her where I left it and she basically blamed me for loosing it, telling me that I had to put it back in the drawer where we keep other stationary (Nobody ever does that we just leave it on the work top, and I highly doubt I was the last to use it yesterday seeing as I finished at 2 and the shop shuts at 5) Boss 1 kept saying how those guns aren’t cheap and cost upward of 30 euro, i’m surprised she didn’t demand I pay for a new one.

Then I was pricing some toys that were donated, and when Boss 1 saw me doing this, instead of just calmly and gently explaining there’s no more room for toys on the shop floor, she was very aggressive and rude about it, practically yelling at me, saying things like ‘No! No more toys I’ve no more room!’ Right okay bitch, you could have just said that like a normal person.

And then I was looking for something to do, I’m someone who always takes initiative, that’s why I was sorting through the toys. So I was looking around me to see what I could do, when Boss 1 tells me if I’m going to be there I need to do something. Then I was practically banned from the back room because it was so packed, but my other two co-workers were allowed in there no problem. That’s where I dew the line and just gave up and went home. I give them my effort and my time, I pour my blood, sweat and tears into that work, I am physically disabled so the work is no easy feat for me, but I do it anyway because I like to be busy and I want to help those in need, but I just get it thrown right back in my face.

I am a young, trans, gay person, I do not feel safe among these religious nut jobs, I feel forced back into the closet. I started my transition recently, I’m transitioning into a more androgynous look, I cut all my hair off and I started binding with sports bras until I can get a real binder and then surgery. Yesterday was the first day I went into work presenting agender, and man I was so, so scared, I felt sick and almost had a panic attack because I didn’t know how they would react. They didn’t say anything to my surprise, but fuck I was so, so scared, I haven’t felt that kind of anxiety in a long, long time, years. I refuse to feel afraid to be who I am. These ‘People’ are so evil and nasty and the least compassionate people I have ever met in all my life, and I hope everyone realizes exactly who and what they are, fuck them 100 times over, they are such awful, awful people and I hope they get their comeuppance.

#bad boss #volunteer #anxeity #agender #non-binary #trans pride #transphobes #christian religion #transition #medical care #money #disabled #autisim #vaccines work #scoliosis #rant over #rant and rave #rant alert

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snoozejoon · 5 years

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Too Much | Park Jimin

pairing: park jimin x black female oc (ft. jung hoseok.. again :))

genre: angst, fluff, a whoole bunch of lovey-dovey stuff n heartbreak

warnings: mental illness (specifically bpd - borderline personality disorder), mature scenes, vulgar language and mentions of suicide and depression.

word count: 3.3k

Solace Wright just wants to remove herself from her overbearing job and find some genuine joy in her life on her own terms. She didn't exactly expect to land in South Korea to begin making an acclaimed name for herself, and she definitely didn't expect to fall so easily in love. She knows what she came to do and isn't exactly fond of having such a large distraction, but her heart softens without her permission and leads her to experience things she never imagined for herself.

Did she want this? No. Will she stay anyway? Yes.

She may have bitten off more than she can chew.

PREMIÉRE

Past.

HOSEOK hated the heat. He hated L.A too. He loathed the bright, smoldering heat that made him have nightmares of lava eating away at skin before he fell asleep; accompanied by the restless sounds and people that enshroud him everywhere he seemed to turn. And if one more droplet of sweat dared to drip down his face one more time, he'd hop on the fastest plane to Korea within the next hour.

The moment his skin made contact with the summer sun here, he immediately regretted even coming. Why his father sent him out of all the other nice, heat tolerant people he has employed at his aquarium was beyond him. Beyond him. Literally. He knew little english, despised American food, and random foreigners that couldn't mind their business, so this was the worst job his dad could possibly give him.

The only liable reason he can come up with is that his father trusted him. Which was kind of a given, seeing as he was the only child he had that considered marine biology as a career path. He was also his dad's only child, so there was that aspect too. Hoseok was being sent to one of the biggest sea life aquariums in Los Angeles to sign literally one slip of paper and shake some probably cold hands just to confirm the conversion of the aquarium into the Jung corporation, due to horrible reviews on the well-being of their sea life, and poor treatment of their customers — and employees.

So naturally, sales dropped, and prices ran cheaper, but people never seemed to want to visit anymore. Hearing about their children's favorite killer whale dying the day after the family went to visit wasn't exactly the best look . . . at all.

His father, noting that every other company tied within the U.S simply refused to lend a helping hand, stepped in on his own. Being a businessman was his best attribute; this simple encounter alone was going to add millions to his company, evidently putting himself even more on the top of the marine world than he was already. He'd do his best to add more revenue to the aquarium under his ownership; since all of the 4 aquariums he owned in South Korea were healthily successful, he only expected the same outcome for the one here; but that would take time. A very long time.

That was great and all, but did it require a whole suit and tie ensemble? In black? He almost wants to cry, but for one: he'll for sure taste the salt in his tears and it's too hot for that, and for two: he's not trying to explain to an American the reasoning behind his tears in his kindergarten level English on this bus that was going way too fast for his liking. So no crying. He could sit and be pissed though, so that's exactly what he does.

It takes a good forty-five minutes to get to his hotel, just to fumble with his key to his room when it was handed to him, lug his too-heavy-for-a-week-stay suitcase into his room, and eventually fall into some strangely comfortable sheets and fall into the arms of a power nap. Jet-lag was yet another thing that Jung Hoseok hated, and he refused to let it hinder the pace at which he could actually leave this place. He had a big day tomorrow.

Hoseok knows that the sun is necessary for life and energy and whatever else, but waking up to it shining directly into his irises wasn't the plan. The universe just seemed to genuinely enjoy messing those up though, so who can really say that this wasn't expected anyway? The meeting was at 10, so he got up at 7, quickly regretting that decision as well; U.S time and Korean time were sworn enemies. But Hoseok prevails and tries his best: studying and trying to absorb every English word he could in the textbook he brought, he even got the mobile app so that his phone could speak to him while he fumbled with his tie. He practiced masking his accent — and evidently failed, but that's okay — and eventually said fuck it, grabbed his suitcase, and left his hotel room.

During the bus ride to the aquarium, he tries to mask his nervousness by continuing to study and attempting to make somewhat of a script for the meeting he had later. He tries to answer in his head any question that could possibly be asked — which shouldn't be many — until he's memorized just enough to get by. He's almost positive that he'll stutter more than necessary and say something incorrectly by default but he decided that was the best he could do.

After a long and almost unbearably bumpy bus ride, he finally arrived at the aquarium, and when he heard about the decrease in visitors, he didn't think it would've been this much. The aquarium was open for sure, but without looking inside, you would've thought it was during closing hours. No one was even remotely interested in the activities occurring outside; which was saying something, because it was a whopping 102 degrees today. The only people actually outside where the employees with the animals, feeding and bathing their assigned sea life.

The aquarium was huge. 2 long pillars held the building up from the sides, accompanied by the various games and activities surrounding it. An array of ticket booths stood outside as well, with less than about 15-20 pedestrians per line. Hoseok felt like he was at the entrance of a movie theater, much less a famous aquarium. Hoseok literally stops in his tracks; just standing to take it all in. admittedly, his father's aquariums were better, but this one was still something to admire. A shame, it was that it wasn't selling well. He knew his dad would fix that though.

As he entered the large building, he immediately makes eye contact with one too many sea creatures; they seem to literally stop and peer at what he's doing and silently ask why. His footsteps falter at his paranoia; was he serious right now?

Let's not make this visit longer than it has to be, Hoseok, he thinks to himself. Please don't.

Hoseok picks his head up, wipes his sweat with the sleeve of his blazer — unprofessional, but he doesn't care — and eventually just takes the jacket off. He wouldn't be forced to suffer anymore because he really couldn't feel the aquarium's supposed "air conditioning" at all. After doing this, he ignores the scrutinizing looks from the fish surrounding him, and begins his quest for the administrative's office to meet with the CEO. Not even five steps are completely taken before he's almost ran over by a woman with a box that definitely had no chance of lasting long in her hands. Way to not make this visit longer, huh?

The collision is heavy, but more so on his part; she actually remained standing, and the sound Hoseok made at his fall was too loud to simply apologize and not worry about potential injuries.

"Oh my God!” The woman exclaimed. “I'm so sorry-"

The box she held is safely placed on the ground before she reaches out to help pull her victim up — he hadn't even attempted getting up, but sprung up easily with her help.

"Thanks," he grunted, noting at how soft her hands were, and peeking at her white lab coat. Her eyes were a wide mahogany, matching her skin, and her hair was kept in a high and unruly bun. He decided that he had been irritated enough since he got here, and getting angry — angrier — would only slow him down.

"I'm fine," he inwardly grimaced at how his voice sounded, "I, uh. I think."

She kept rumbling off with apologies, because what a great way to end her last day here.

"I'm so, so, sorry! I was just moving out from my room and you were walking in front of my office and—" she blinked rapidly, taking in his appearance and then really looking for injuries, "wait, you look important, a-are you sure you're okay?" Her hands roamed his shoulders, head, and arms before he interrupted her with an embarrassed cough.

"Um." Immediately her hands left his arms, shooting behind her back and interlocking in embarrassment. She couldn't help it, he wore more than her rent and she was not about to get sued today. He felt his cheeks grow hot at her actions; he definitely wasn't used to that. He cleared his throat, loosening the collar of his shirt — was it hot in here? Significantly hotter than usual?

Eventually finding his composure, he directed his speech to her as carefully as he could. "You are okay." Her eyes met up to his, her heart was pounding too damn hard for a Tuesday morning. "Sorry, uh, my English isn't very good — I'm Korean. I'm trying though."

Her brows rose, and Hoseok had to stop himself from thinking the worst before she spoke, "Oh really? I studied marine biology in college, with Korean as my minor, I know the language, if that's easier for you?" She reached down and struggled to pick up her box completely; but Hoseok noticed and helped her to stand.

He couldn't even completely understand what she said, but he heard Korean and easier and put two and two together.

"Really? Yes!" he coughed, lowering his voice, "Ahem. Please. I have a meeting with your Ceo and I'm not sure how far I'll get." Pleading eyes bore into hers, trying to get his point across.

"I'm Jung Hoseok, by the way," he said, before she could reject him.

The woman's hands wrapped over the box tightly, and her lips turn to blow escaped hairs from in front of her eyes. Noting that he mentioned that Korean would be easier, she quickly remembered the honorifics.

"Hi Hoseok. I'm Solace. So, you need a translator?" She finally settled her box firmly in her hands and looked at him expectedly.

Solace. It was a beautiful name, it swelled nicely under his tongue when he repeated it. Her Korean was good; her accent was obviously apparent, but still understandable. "Yes," Hoseok answers hurriedly, "If you're not too busy."

Solace shook her head, "No it's fine, today was my last day anyway. Let me run this box to my car really quickly and I'll be right back." Hoseok can barely respond with his gratitude before her heels find their speed and she leaves the building.

When she returned, she also had to direct him to the administrative's office as well, he didn't exactly have a directory to the aquarium. While she was showing him the way, Hoseok had the opportunity to observe the aquarium fully; dwelling on how his father could fix this, and tweak that. And that was all before they even got to an elevator.

He tried small talk too. She was granting him a favor, so the least he could do was get to know her a little. Random questions that popped into his mind, he wanted them answered. He was still in need of a distraction; nerves were never something to be messed with.

"So," he raised his voice as he stepped in the elevator beside her, "did you quit? Is- is that why it's your last day? Or -" his eyes widened with interest, "were you fired?"

He saw her face turn to him quizzically, she couldn't possibly figure out how that was any of his business, but she let it slide. She clicked the circular 5 button for the fifth floor, and the elevator ascended upwards.

"No, not fired. I quit." she looked down at her fingers, "the reviews written about poor employee service weren't wrong."

"Oh."

Hoseok nodded, not exactly shocked by her answer; it only added to the things his dad could fix once he signed the contract. And maybe it was the close proximity of the elevator, but Hoseok knew the scent of a mango when he smelled it. There was something else in the air too — something tropical.

He didn't know if it was perfume or what, it just smelled amazing. So amazing that his body made decisions he probably shouldn't have; like leaning in towards the area of the smell — which was Solace. He only sacrificed a small sniff, but it was one sniff too many apparently — she tensed up immediately. Did he just? She didn't even see him do it; her attention was on the elevator door waiting to open.

Hoseok hasn't noticed her noticing him, and moved back to where he originally stood, unbothered. He realized that it was her hair that smelled as nice as it did, a dash of coconut and hibiscus scents accompanied the mango too; adding a nice, beachy smell. But Solace noticed, and didn't exactly know how to react either. Her head turned to him swiftly, an amused but weary expression residing in her eyebrow arch and smirking lips.

“Did you just smell me?"

Hoseok — looking embarrassed as ever and face so red he almost looks sick — Seriously debates acting as if her Korean was so accented he couldn't understand her. Too late for that, of course; but the suggestion still ran through his mind. He wonders if he should just lie, claim she was hearing things, but that would get him nowhere.

"I-I'm sorry! Something just smelled really good so I just-" his ears burn even more at the sound of her small laughter, she reached her hand to cover her smile.

"It's fine," she giggled some more, "does my hair smell that good?" Hoseok releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding when the elevator finally releases an anticipated ding and the doors separate from each other.

Solace disregards Hoseok’s small yes as an answer, and gracefully leads him to the Ceo's door. A closed door with a frosted window awaited Hoseok, who just stood in front of it beside her, frozen. Solace looked to him expectantly, but halted, realizing how nervous this guy really was. When she thought about it, she'd act just like him, let the roles be reversed. So reassuringly, she placed her hand on his shoulder, waiting until he turned to her.

"I got you, Hoseok. You've got this." She smiled, and Hoseok gulped. How embarrassing, Hoseok, really.

"Thanks," he said, before lifting his hand to knock.

"You did so good!" Solace smiled at him from across the dining booth. She was right; he greeted the Ceo and his associates with ease, Solace had to help him with just a few things. And after he signed the few documents he needed to, he took her out for lunch as an expression of his gratitude. And solace never says no to free food, so she happily obliged.

He had asked her what she wanted, so she went to the nearest restaurant that had chicken and waffles; she had been craving them, and Hoseok never had them. So she was in front of him now, indulging in her delicious chicken and dipping her waffles in maple syrup alongside it. Hoseok was watching what she was doing, trying to replicate her etiquette. He blushed for the nth time that day, hearing her bellows of praise. He wasn't complaining, though.

"Thank you," he beamed. "You were a really big help, I'm happy you were there today." He finally tasted his chicken with a syrupy waffle, and Solace watches his eyes widen with astonishment — that's almost everyone's reaction to the treat.

"Wow."

Solace looked knowingly back at her own plate. "I know."

After Hoseok drew himself back from waffle heaven, he asked curiously, "Wait, so where do you go now? Since it was your last day. Do you have like, a backup job? Something you're interested in?" He looked back at his plate, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth.

Solace chewed slowly, heeding his words while relishing in the simple calamity of the restaurant: the clinking plates and glasses, loud and quieted voices. This was a question she didn't necessarily have an answer to, so she silently searched for some sort of answer to tie him over.

She looked back up and him, frowning a little. "No, not really. I guess I'll just stay with my stepmom for a minute — like, literally a minute, the woman hates me — until I find something . . . else." She shied her face from Hoseok's worried gaze. She just couldn't stay at that aquarium, it payed fine enough, but damn, if it wasn't tiring.

Hoseok swallowed slowly after hearing what solace said about her job, and noting how uncomfortable she was talking about it. Great going, man. A thought crossed his mind — granted, it was a crazy, stupid thought, but a thought nonetheless — that consisted of inviting solace to her dad's aquarium back home.

He almost facepalms just for thinking it. In what world would that make sense? He finally removes it from his train of thought completely, but he sees her expression as she fell silent and looked outside the window beside her. She looked lonely, for a moment, although he was right there in front of her. He wished he couldn't relate so well. Maybe it would've kept his mouth from rambling off.

"You- you know, my dad just had a new aquarium built in the last, like six months. Since it's so new, we're a little short on employees, so if you want — since, you know you're fluent and all —" he gulps seeing her eyes widen, and her body suddenly becoming alert.

"Really?" Hoseok really wished he was kidding when he said she was fluent, just the way she said that one word made her sound like a native. "You are? I mean, it's a little far-fetched, but dammit I'll take just about anything." And he believes her, her heart had amplified it's beating, her excitement from his words noticeable like a star upon obsidian.

His face is burning roses, but his cheekbones raise in a smile; he wasn't lying, he just didn't even know she'd agree so fast — was she thinking this through at all?

No, just like your stupid ass, Hoseok.

Hoseok finds relief in the ice water that was placed next to him, he really couldn't let her down now. finally finding a voice, he breathes, "You sure about that? It might take a little while, but i'll see about getting you down there a little quicker. perks of being the director's son, heh. And you’re a nice enough girl." It was the least he could do. Literally. He won't allow himself to offer anything else.

Solace clutches her lab coat she didn't take off harshly, barely even believing his words. It would take a while, and who knows how long she'll actually be down there for? If she actually got the job? But she knew she wouldn't exactly miss being here. She wouldn't miss her stepmom, she wouldn't miss the loud, bustling people in L.A, and she definitely wouldn't miss that job. The only thing she might actually miss was these damn chicken and waffles. And she'd get to travel. The pros outweighed the cons, to her.

“It does sound nice, but where would I even stay? I’d be broke as soon as I got there," she said, sadly biting her nails.

He knew the answer a little too quickly. "I'm friends with a landlord in the heart of busan, right next to the beach. It's nice. Cheaper than most. I can’t promise anything, but maybe I could persuade him to lend you a room. If you'd like."

Music to her ears. "I'll take it."

Hello again! As I edit and prepare for the newer chapters of Fools, I decided to drop this one to hold you guys over. This is a Jimin fic, but I decided to start it off from Hoseok’s standpoint, because this is how Jimin and Solace’s stories begin, and that’s with Hoseok. At the beginning you will see the chapters fluctuate between the past and the present until they eventually meet up. I hope it’s not too confusing, but my inbox is always open if it is! As mentioned above, this story deals heavily with the themes of mental illnesses, but specifically borderline personality disorder, aka bpd. Jimin is the character with this disorder, so please be aware of that as you continue to read. I also want to point out that I absolutely do not condone romanticizing mental illnesses, so be assured that none of that will be included here. Thank you for reading, and I really hope you enjoy this!

#jimin angst #jimin fic #jimin #jimin ambw #hoseok fic #hoseok #hoseok ambw #bts #bts fic #bts ambw #kpop fanfiction #kpop poc

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zainbap · 5 years

Text

like autumn leaves, we fall

BangDae college/university AU • masterpost • AO3

words: 6231 warnings: alcohol, mild angst, sleeping pills, mental illness struggles

part five

Daehyun is standing by the counter, watching Sungwon refill the two cups Daehyun had brought from his and Yongguk's table. It's Tuesday, before noon, and the coffee shop is pretty empty. Sungwon is the only barista currently working, and per usual he's seizing every opportunity to chat when there's no line. Daehyun doesn't mind. For someone as vibrant and loud as Sungwon, he still doesn't understand why most his friends call him Sleepy.

"Anyway, you and Bbang should go see it," Sungwon concludes, wrapping up the conversation about a movie he'd seen the other day. "I think he'd like it."

Daehyun blinks.

"What?"

"You know," Sungwon scoffs, eyes on his hands as he places Yongguk's coffee on the counter top between them. "At the movies. It's still showing."

Daehyun parts his lips, feeling his heart do something ridiculous at the thought of him and Yongguk in a dark movie theater. The popcorn placed between them, hands brushing as they both reach for it.

"We don't really… do that," he says.

Sungwon puts down Daehyun's latte next to Yongguk's black coffee, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"You've been going out for three months and you've never gone to see a movie?"

Daehyun stares at him, dumbfounded. He feels heat rising to his cheeks, instinctively throwing a glance over his shoulder. To make sure Yongguk is still reading over by the table, that he's not hearing this. He looks back to Sungwon.

"We're not going out."

He tries to keep the regret out of his voice.

Sungwon pauses, eyebrows raising toward his hairline. Last week his roots had been black, the green in his hair a lot more washed out compared to when Daehyun first met him. But now every strand on his head matches his pink apron.

"What, for real? You're not— Really?"

Daehyun feels himself blush even darker at the genuine surprise coloring Sungwon's face. He scoffs, trying to play it off as amusement rather than embarrassment.

"Why would you think that we were?" He asks, heart racing, because he can't help but wonder what it means for one of Yongguk's closest friends to make that assumption. That him meeting up with a boy in a café to study would imply they're going out.

Sungwon's expression quickly changes, a sharpness to him that Daehyun has never seen before. He looks almost defensive, and it makes Daehyun's heart droop.

"Hey, man," he says, voice flat. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything—"

Daehyun feels hot panic stir in his belly, realizing how wrongly Sungwon had interpreted his reaction. That he seems to think Daehyun's got a problem with someone thinking he was not only going out with Yongguk, but with a guy.

"That's not— I'm not offended," Daehyun hurries to clarify. "I'm not an asshole."

Sungwon's face relaxes, an apologetic smile tugging at his mouth.

"Sorry," he sighs, waving a hand in the air as if to brush it all off. "Just— Some people, you know?"

Daehyun nods, actually moved by how Sungwon clearly was ready to defend his friend. Who may or may not like boys.

"Yeah," he agrees quietly. "I know."

Sungwon tilts his head to the side, regarding him with a soft expression. Daehyun feels like he's being x-rayed, willing his flaming cheeks to cool down. He turns his attention to the paper cups in front of him, slowly dragging them over onto his side of the counter. When he looks back up, ready to step away and return to Yongguk, there's a glint of something in Sungwon's eyes.

"You like him?"

Daehyun opens his mouth, but he can't come up with anything to respond with. He just stands there with his lips parted, heart stuttering at the prolonged silence. How it's an answer in itself. Sungwon's smile grows, and Daehyun drops his gaze onto the two coffees in his hands.

He looks over his shoulder again, just as Yongguk looks up from his books. Their eyes meet, Yongguk smiling even as he lifts his eyebrows in question. Daehyun hurries to smile back before turning away.

"Hey," Sungwon says, arms crossed as he leans in over the counter. He keeps his voice down, making sure no one but Daehyun can hear him. He's still smiling, looking as if he's fighting not to grin. "Don't worry, man. My lips are sealed."

Daehyun's breath hitches, the butterflies swirling in his belly. Because it feels amazing and horrible at the same time, that Sungwon knows. That he seems supportive of Daehyun's crush. And Daehyun feels ridiculous, wondering if he's done something to give his feelings away. If he's the reason Sungwon thought he and Yongguk were romantically involved.

"Okay," he says dumbly, not sure what else to say. Thanking him would be too much like confirming it, despite there being little room left for interpretation at this point.

Sungwon just grins, nodding as he straightens back up and Daehyun finally heads back to the table.

Yongguk puts his book down, adjusting his glasses before accepting his refilled coffee from Daehyun with a soft smile.

"What's that about?" He asks, amused.

"Nothing," Daehyun scoffs as he sits back down opposite from Yongguk, heart skipping a beat. "Just Sungwon being Sungwon."

Yongguk chuckles, cocking his head as if to say touché, and thankfully returns to his textbook.

They both return to studying in silence, although Daehyun's thoughts keep drifting back to Sungwon's words. The pure shock on his face.

Are we going out? Daehyun asks himself, sneaking a glance at Yongguk across the table. But that's ridiculous. Of course they're not. Daehyun would know if they were. And yet Sungwon's surprise makes Daehyun feel like he's missing something.

"Do you like parties?" He suddenly blurts out.

Yongguk looks up, blinking in surprise.

"Ah," he says. "I, uh— My sleeping pills don't really go well with alcohol."

"Oh," Daehyun says, feeling dumb and ignorant. He nods, looking back down into his book when feeling heat creep onto his cheeks. "Right."

"But I can… not take them," Yongguk continues, making Daehyun look back up. "Like, for a night. Or whatever. If I wanna drink."

Daehyun opens his mouth, hesitating.

"And that's… okay?"

"Yeah," Yongguk shrugs, smiling faintly. "It's fine."

The silence that follows is loaded, Daehyun's pulse quickening as neither of them break eye-contact.

"There's a party this weekend," he says finally, "at a classmate's house. I was just— You wanna come? I'm pretty sure Junhong and Jongup will be there too, so it's—"

He doesn't know how to finish that sentence. So it's not just me. He trails off, looking away briefly and shrugging with one shoulder. Pretending not to be as nervous about Yongguk's answers as he is.

When he finally looks back, Yongguk is just watching him with a soft smile.

"Sure."

Daehyun's belly is full of butterflies.

"Okay," he says, unable to keep the smile off his face. He ducks his head down, nodding. "Great."

Yongguk chuckles, nodding as well as they both quietly return their attention to their books.

It's nearly impossible to focus after that.

By the time Yongguk arrives at the house party that Friday night, Daehyun has had multiple drinks.

He's tried to play it cool, while in reality he's started thinking Yongguk wasn't gonna show up. That he would have something more important to do. It's silly, and Daehyun knows it, but he can't help it. It doesn't even make sense for him to be nervous about Yongguk actually showing up, either. It's not a date. Maybe they're not even gonna hang out that much. Maybe Yongguk knows half the people there and Daehyun will only see glimpses of him throughout the night.

In the end, Daehyun sees the moment Yongguk walks through the front door. He looks good, wearing a black v-neck beneath his jacket that's showing parts of that big tattoo that Daehyun hasn't seen before. His gaze scans the room, their eyes locking, and Daehyun watches Yongguk's face light up in a smile. He slips out of his jacket before coming over.

"Hey."

"Hi," Daehyun returns. His face feels hot, but it always does whenever he's drinking. He wonders if he's blushing. The thought alone probably makes it happen anyway. Bodies are treacherous like that. He smiles, feeling loose and happy. "You came."

Yongguk chuckles, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His glasses have slid down his nose just a bit, and Daehyun wants to reach up and fix them. If he'd been just a little more drunk than he is, he probably would have.

"Bbang!"

Junhong's voice is so loud and sudden it makes both of them jump, turning to see Junhong making his way through the crowded kitchen to join them in the hallway, a head taller than most of them. He looks downright shocked. Once within arm's reach, he playfully slaps Yongguk's shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

His words are a bit slurred, a beer bottle in his other hand. Yongguk scoffs, lowering his head briefly in a way that looks almost shy.

"Daehyun invited me," he says, looking back to Daehyun with a little smile.

"He did?" Junhong asks, shooting Daehyun a glance. Daehyun doesn't know how to respond, so he just smiles and shrugs. Junhong hums, turning back to Yongguk. "I mean, I would've, you know? It's just that you always say no."

Daehyun looks to Yongguk, surprised. Yongguk scoffs and looks away, the tips of his ears darkening.

As it turns out, Yongguk does know quite a lot of the people there. At the very least, they know of him. Many greet him by name, to which Yongguk waves back with a shy smile. Daehyun can tell he's not a big party-goer. Which makes sense, considering what he said about his pills. At first he doesn't seem to plan on drinking at all. He didn't bring any with him. But then Daehyun's classmate — the host of the party — offers him a drink, and Yongguk accepts.

It's the biggest party Daehyun has been to in a while, considering most students live in dorms or tiny apartments. So many bodies in every room of the house makes the temperature go up, and no one's protesting when someone opens the door to the balcony. Some go out there to smoke, which makes others want to close the door again to keep out the smell. It's a bit of a disaster.

Daehyun is tipsy, having a good time nodding his head to the beat and talking to Yongguk and others. The two of them stay close to Junhong and Jongup, at first. But then Junhong starts break-dancing in the middle of the living room and they leave Jongup to be embarrassed about it by himself.

"I can't believe he still does that," Yongguk laughs as they flee to another corner of the house.

"Still?" Daehyun repeats, sounding scandalized. "Is this a common thing?"

"Oh, yeah," Yongguk snorts, grinning. His cheeks are slightly flushed. He looks so good. "For as long as I've known him. He just… needs to dance sometimes. I don't know. You can't control him."

Daehyun laughs, loud and just a little obnoxious. Yongguk doesn't seem to mind, just smiles at him in a way that makes Daehyun's heart flutter.

Without thinking, Daehyun leads them up the stairs. There are plenty of people up there too, but it's a whole different vibe than downstairs. People come up here to get privacy. Or at least the illusion of it. There's a group of girls in the hallway having what they seem to think is a very private conversation. Daehyun blushes as he and Yongguk walks past them, though they barely seem to notice. Bedroom doors are closed, and there's a few couples hugging or kissing out in the open.

Yongguk doesn't say anything, just follows. Daehyun doesn't dare look over his shoulder and lock eyes with him, not sure what to say. He just keeps moving forward, hoping he'll find something.

In the end, they find another balcony. It's tiny compared to the one downstairs, but it's empty. Daehyun can feel his shirt starting to stick to his skin with how hot he is, and Yongguk doesn't object when he opens the door to let the autumn air greet them. The doorway is just wide enough for them both to sit there side by side, hips touching.

"Nice," Daehyun hums. He's referring to the starry night sky, but forgets to specify.

But Yongguk still hums in agreement. He shifts the red cup in his hand, and Daehyun blinks.

"Your nails are black," he says, reaching out before thinking better of it. He can't believe he didn't see it earlier. Yongguk lets Daehyun bring his hand closer to his face, studying it. He seems shy about it, yet amused by Daehyun's reaction. "Do you… paint them often?"

He feels like he should've noticed by now, considering how much time he spends sharing a table with Yongguk's hands.

"Just sometimes," Yongguk says with a shrug.

"It's pretty," Daehyun says, meaning it. It fits Yongguk in a special type of way. The way his glasses and beanie fits him. Before now Daehyun never would've guessed Yongguk owned nail polish, but now that he knows, it doesn't seem that odd.

Yongguk seems embarrassed then, gently tugging to get his hand back. Daehyun lets go, not having realized he was still holding on to it.

They sit in silence for a while. Daehyun's world is spinning a little bit, and before he knows it he's resting his head on Yongguk's shoulder, eyes falling shut. Yongguk is warm, and he smells familiar. Like his apartment, and the hoodie Daehyun has yet to return.

"You okay?" Yongguk asks softly.

His voice feels like it's very far away. Daehyun just hums in response, drunkenly nuzzling Yongguk's shoulder for a little while before realizing what he's doing. He straightens back up, eyes open.

"Sorry," he says.

Yongguk is looking at him.

"For what?"

Daehyun turns his head to meet his eyes.

"You seeing me like this. I was worried this would happen. I'm— I'm loud and clingy, sometimes. Especially when I'm drunk. Wasn't sure you'd like me, like this. Shit," he sighs.

But Yongguk just smiles. The light is not the same out here, but his ears and cheeks still look pink.

"I like seeing this side of you, too," he tells him.

Daehyun feels overwhelmed by that. Overwhelmed by how gentle and lovely Yongguk is. Their faces are so close like this, and Daehyun can't stop his gaze from flickering down to Yongguk's lips. He wonders what it'd feel like to kiss someone wearing glasses. He's never done it before. Would they get in the way? Would they have to find a certain angle?

There's something in Yongguk's eyes that's new, and it makes heat pool in Daehyun's belly.

"Please don't do anything too good right now," Daehyun mumbles. "I want to remember."

Yongguk exhales, his breath turning into smoke in the chilly air.

"Okay," he says.

As it happens, Daehyun doesn't remember much of the rest of the party after that.

He knows he and Yongguk head back downstairs eventually to find Junhong and Jongup reconciling. He knows he danced at some point, that smokers got banned from the balcony, and that someone else commented on Yongguk's nails, but he's not sure in which order it all happened.

He knows Yongguk offered to walk him home, with the party still going on. He knows he said yes.

When Daehyun wakes up the next morning, with a fairly bad headache, he vaguely recalls Yongguk following him to his door. He'd slept in his clothes from last night, still smelling of cigarettes and liquor, so he must've fallen asleep right away. He doesn't remember saying goodbye to Yongguk.

"God," Daehyun mutters, covering his face with his hands.

It feels strange, knowing that Yongguk's been here. And on the back of Daehyun's desk chair, in plain sight, is still Yongguk's hoodie he'd borrowed the other week. If Yongguk was in his room last night, he either didn't see it, or he did and chose not to take it back.

Heart fluttering, he remembers what he'd said on the balcony. What it had really meant, and what Yongguk had responded with.

Don't kiss me when I'm drunk, I want to remember it.

Okay.

Let's not cross that line right now, but later.

Okay.

Sunday afternoon, Daehyun is bouncing his leg beneath the table, checking his phone for the hundredth time. Sungwon is standing next to his table, leaning against a mop. It's raining again.

"Give him another minute," Sungwon hums, lazily moving the mop around while standing in place.

"It's been five," Daehyun says, voice flat.

Yongguk is late.

Yongguk is never late.

They didn't talk yesterday, even though Daehyun wanted to. He wanted to send Yongguk a text and apologize for being an embarrassing drunk, but thought maybe that would just make things even more awkward. He'd decided to wait till their usual study time, giving them both another day to recover. From everything.

Daehyun feels something cold and uncomfortable settle in his stomach, growing bigger and heavier by the minute. He's worried, in more than one way. Yongguk might be avoiding him, which is enough of a kick to the gut. But Daehyun also can't help but think something else happened. He doesn't want to believe Yongguk forgot he'd been drinking Friday night, and went home to take his pill anyway. Daehyun doesn't even know what would happen, if he did. He just knows it's bad.

"Still no response?"

Sungwon, of course, knows it too.

Daehyun shakes his head. He's told Sungwon everything already. He hadn't planned to, but after seeing the two of them here together so often, Sungwon had already figured something was off. And they're friends now. Daehyun thinks so, at least. At any case, it feels good to have someone around that knows Yongguk as well as Sungwon does.

One of the first things Sungwon had asked was how much Yongguk had had to drink that night. Daehyun wishes he could remember more clearly. It hadn't been an accusation, but Daehyun still feels guilty. If something's really wrong, it's his fault.

"Alright," Sungwon finally says, leaning the mop against his own chest as he takes out his phone. "I'll text him, tell him we just wanna make sure he's alright."

Daehyun nods, fumbling with his phone on top of the table. His and Yongguk's coffees are both gonna go cold. For once, he'd ordered for Yongguk rather than the other way around. He'd almost been excited about it, wanting to see Yongguk's reaction.

Sungwon's boss appears, and he gets busy mopping the rest of the place. Daehyun tries to take a sip of his coffee, but the mere smell makes his stomach protest. He puts it back down. He taps his phone again. Nothing. At this point, he's almost hoping Yongguk is just ignoring him. That it's nothing else.

A little while later, Sungwon returns.

"Okay," he says, his mouth a thin line. "I think you should go over there."

Daehyun's heart sinks like a stone.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. He hasn't replied. And it's— Something's not right," Sungwon says, looking nothing like the cheerful guy Daehyun has come to know. "He wouldn't ignore a message like that. Not from me," he adds, giving Daehyun an almost apologetic look.

But Daehyun gets it. They're close friends. He's… something else.

"Alright," Daehyun says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "I'll— I'll go by his apartment."

"Thanks," Sungwon tells him honestly, offering a weak smile.

Daehyun stands, grabbing his bag that's still packed with all his things. He pauses, eyeing the untouched coffee orders, but Sungwon waves him off.

"Don't worry about it. Next time's on the house for you two. Just go."

He's only been to Yongguk's apartment once, but he's got no problem finding his way. Sungwon had given him the code to the building, and it feels a bit like déjà vu when rushing inside from the rain. Daehyun feels like an intruder walking up the stairs to Yongguk's floor, his footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell.

Ringing Yongguk's doorbell, Daehyun immediately hears a soft barking from somewhere inside. The fact that Tigger is in Yongguk's apartment only makes Daehyun even more worried. Because he wouldn't leave the dog unattended for too long, which means Yongguk must be inside. Inside, but not responding to friends' concerned texts at a time when he's usually up and about.

No one comes to open the door, so Daehyun rings the bell again. He knocks on the door. Tigger is still barking softly inside, the travelling sound of it suggesting the dog is running back and forth. Daehyun's heart is beating too fast. His mind starts playing out the worst possible scenarios.

He wants to call Sungwon. He wishes he had Sungwon's number. He thinks about calling Junhong.

Then the lock clicks, and the door opens.

Yongguk is there, peering at him in the bright light, and he looks horrible. He's got dark circles under his eyes, his hair a mess. He looks naked without his glasses. Even with his eyes narrowed, Daehyun can see how bloodshot they are. He's wearing a big t-shirt and his tracker pants, standing barefoot in the door. Tigger is on the threshold, the little tail wagging at Daehyun.

"Daehyun?"

"Oh my god," Daehyun breathes out, relief flooding him. "Fuck. I was—"

Yongguk looks so confused, Daehyun struggles with what to say. Then, slowly, something else creeps into Yongguk's expression. His eyes flicker down to Daehyun's bag, blinking.

"Shit," he mumbles. "What day is it?"

Daehyun hesitates.

"Sunday."

"Shit," Yongguk says again, self-consciously running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't—"

He looks so exhausted, Daehyun feels bad for even being there.

"I was worried," he says, swallowing. His heart is still beating a little too fast. "Me and Sungwon. We— We were worried something was wrong. I thought maybe— After the party—"

His voice trails off. Guilt fills Yongguk's eyes. It makes him look even worse.

"No. Nothing happened," Yongguk sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "I just— I couldn't sleep that night, so yesterday—" He shakes his head, jaw setting for a moment before continuing. He doesn't meet Daehyun's eyes just then. "I took too many pills," he says eventually, voice quiet. "There's— There's two kinds. I took two of the stronger ones. And—" He sighs, shaking his head again. "It was stupid. I've done it before, and it's always— It completely knocks me out. I can barely wake up within the next day. I'm still—"

He cuts himself off, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Fucking hell," Daehyun mumbles. "Yongguk. God—"

"I know," Yongguk says, still unable to look at him. He runs a hand through his hair again. "I know it's bad. I shouldn't have done it. I just wanted to sleep. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't show up today."

"It's fine, it's— Whatever," Daehyun shrugs, frowning. "Jesus. Don't even worry about that. I'm just—" He shakes his head, exhaling shakily. He feels awful. "I shouldn't have asked you to that party."

At that, Yongguk finally looks up while firmly shaking his head.

"Daehyun, no. It was my call. I'm the one who messed up after."

"It's still bad," Daehyun insists. "I shouldn't have asked you. Not after you told me about— I shouldn't."

"Dae."

It's the first time Yongguk calls him that, or anything other than his full name, and Daehyun can barely process how intimate it sounds. Yongguk looks more alert than he has since opening that door, holding Daehyun's gaze steadily.

"I'm a grown man, I make my own decisions, and I'm responsible for taking my own meds. I came to the party because I wanted to. I had a drink because I wanted to, not because I felt pushed to it. Alright?"

Daehyun swallows around the lump in his throat, feeling tears burn behind his eyes. But he nods.

Yongguk nods, too, and smiles sadly. He blinks, changing his stance where they're still standing in the doorway. Tigger whines by his feet, earning their attention. Yongguk groans, rubbing his forehead.

"He needs a walk. I— Shit."

"I'll walk him," Daehyun says instantly.

Yongguk looks at him, something soft in his tired eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Come on. Let me help. I'll just walk the block or something."

"Thank you," Yongguk says warmly, looking around for the poodle's leash.

He hands it to Daehyun, their hands brushing in passing. Daehyun crouches down to put the collar on Tigger who finally connects the dots and gets incredibly excited about what's about to happen. Daehyun can't help but giggle, the sound shattering something lingering in the air. And when he looks back up, Yongguk is smiling faintly.

"Go sit down," Daehyun tells him. "Just be awake when I get back."

"I will be," Yongguk promises.

Daehyun starts turning away, before stopping himself.

"You should probably text Sungwon back," he offers.

It's a short walk.

Partly because Daehyun wants to return to Yongguk as soon as possible, but also because Tigger seems perfectly content once he's done his business. The rain has turned into a light drizzle, which is a relief, but Tigger walks through enough puddles to get most of his coat soaked anyway.

When returning to Yongguk's apartment, Daehyun only has to knock once to be let in. Yongguk meets him with a sheepish smile, cheeks pink as if he'd splashed some water in his face. He's changed shirt and put on socks. Daehyun helps him dry Tigger off best they can right inside the door, before the poodle gets free and flees into the kitchen.

"Let him go," Yongguk decides, scoffing weakly as they both stand back up.

Daehyun is just about to turn and leave, thinking he's got what he came here for, when Yongguk hesitantly opens his mouth.

"You wanna stay?"

Staying hadn't even been on Daehyun's radar.

"I… thought you'd want to keep sleeping it off," he says, unsure.

Yongguk shakes his head, eyes lowered.

"I won't be much fun," he admits. "But— If you want to stay, you can."

Daehyun studies him. He looks so open and vulnerable, and Daehyun feels his heart clench with how much he cares for him. There turned out to be a lot more to Yongguk than he first thought when they met, but nothing has stopped his feelings from blooming. His chest is burning with it.

The fact that Yongguk looks like a mess and desperately needs a shower, but still doesn't want Daehyun to leave. The fact that they both must know there won't be any studying done. It's always been the excuse, something to hide behind. But it won't work this time.

"Okay," he says.

Yongguk smiles.

They end up on the couch in the living room, Yongguk turning the TV on. They do watch it at first, sitting on each ends of the small couch with just a small space left between them. Yongguk is sitting curled up in his corner, legs pulled up against his chest. Tigger returns from the kitchen, licking his mouth, and trots over to settle into the dog bed next to the keyboard. Silence reigns for a while, but it's not the comfortable kind they usually have.

In the corner of his eye, he watches Yongguk turn towards him after a while, leaning his side against the back of the couch. His feet are inches away from touching Daehyun's thigh.

"Are you upset with me?"

Yongguk's voice is low, but it still cuts through the silence like a knife. Daehyun tips his head back, head turned to meet Yongguk's eyes. He looks so worried, and it dawns on Daehyun just how much his opinion matters to Yongguk. How concerned he is about what Daehyun might be thinking.

"No," Daehyun sighs softly. "I just— I was really scared," he admits.

Yongguk nods solemnly, brows furrowed with guilt.

"I get that," he says quietly. "And I really am sorry. I never meant to… put you through that."

Daehyun swallows, nodding. He believes that, even though he still doesn’t get it. He stays still for a moment before turning to the side as well, facing Yongguk. He rest his cheek on the back of the couch. For a moment, they just look at each other.

"Tell me more about it," he murmurs. "How it all works."

Yongguk seems to hesitate.

"Why?"

"Because I want to understand," Daehyun says honestly. "So that next time, I'll know."

"There won't be a next time," Yongguk protests, but seems to realize how hollow that promise is.

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair again. Daehyun waits. The TV is still on, having turned into background noise. Tigger is seconds away from falling asleep over in the corner.

"Like I said, I have two kind of sleeping pills," Yongguk finally explains, voice quiet. "Last time you were here— That's the first kind. It takes an hour or so to kick in, and it keeps me drowsy for about ten hours. If I'm lucky, that drowsiness is enough to help me fall asleep. But it doesn't always work."

"So you have a stronger one."

Yongguk nods.

"It's— That first one, I can take every night if I want to. It's not… dangerous. But this second one, the stronger one— I'm only supposed to take it every now and then," he admits. "You get addicted easily. They work pretty much instantly, and you get… high. I guess that's the right word," he sighs. "The effects don't last very long, but they're very effective for the falling asleep part. It's the one you might not wake up from, if you take too many at once. I— Every time I renew my prescription, they have to ask if I have any suicidal thoughts. They have to."

"Jesus," Daehyun breathes out.

"Yeah," Yongguk agrees, swallowing. "It's— It's really bad, to mess up like I did. But I promise, I just wanted to sleep. I didn't think."

Daehyun swallows down a dry throat, processing as he blankly looks back to the TV.

Yongguk lets him.

"So what did you take yesterday?"

"One of the first one, two of the second."

Daehyun nods, lips pressed together.

"And you still feel it?" He asks, looking back. Yongguk is already watching him. "What's it like?"

"My fingers feel numb," Yongguk hums, holding out a hand between them and spreading his fingers as if to demonstrate. "It's hard to do anything. I just feel… heavy. It's the combination of the two drugs. When it gets like this, it's difficult to do anything but roll over and keep sleeping."

Daehyun studies Yongguk's spread fingers, despite them looking completely ordinary.

"But it's safe now, right?" He asks. "To sleep, I mean."

Yongguk nods firmly.

"Yeah, I just feel… slightly dazed, still. But most of it is out of my system by now."

Daehyun hums, not sure what else to say right away. He drops his gaze to their toes in the middle of the couch, so close but not touching yet.

"Then it's okay," he says eventually, "if you wanna sleep some more. Really."

He looks back into Yongguk's eyes to let him know that he means it, that it's okay.

"I don't wanna sleep when you're here," Yongguk murmurs, and the honesty of it makes Daehyun's heart flutter. "And I'm… sorry for being so gross right now," he adds, grimacing weakly.

Daehyun huffs.

"It's okay." A pause. "I like seeing this side of you, too."

Their eyes meet again, a smile tugging at the corner of Yongguk's mouth.

"I wasn't sure how much you remembered. From the party."

"Not everything," Daehyun admits. "But most of it, I think. The end of it is a little fuzzy. I remember us being on the balcony." He sees something flicker across Yongguk's face, and even though he can't tell exactly what it is, it still makes his face heat up. "I remember you walked me home. I— Thank you."

Yongguk's smile grows even stronger.

"Thanks for inviting me. It was fun. Just— I might be all partied-out for a while."

"No more parties," Daehyun decides. "I should've just asked you to the movies." At that, Yongguk's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and Daehyun realizes what he just said. "I mean— There's a movie Sungwon thought you might like," he splutters. "You know. So."

Yongguk's smile grows big enough to show his teeth and gums. Daehyun loves that smile.

"I'd love to go," he says with a small shrug. "Next Saturday, maybe? After my shift?"

"Okay, great," Daehyun exhales, wondering how the hell he pulled that off.

Yongguk grins, mirroring Daehyun and tilting his head to rest on the back of the couch. They're still for a moment, before Yongguk pushes his feet closer, covering Daehyun's toes with his own. Yongguk is wearing white, fuzzy socks while Daehyun had taken his off, damp from the rain. He hadn't realized how his feet were slightly getting cold till now, and he can't stop the pleased humming noise slipping out of him. Yongguk chuckles, the tips of his ears pink.

"You could borrow some socks."

"No, this is fine," Daehyun mumbles.

They fall into silence again, and it's nice. Daehyun turns his head slightly, lazily altering between watching the TV, the raindrops slapping against the window, and Tigger sleeping in his bed. Yongguk seems to do the same thing, though Daehyun notices him blinking slower and slower.

It doesn't take long before Yongguk's eyelids seem to grow too heavy, and he finally closes his eyes. Daehyun gives it a minute, but then he can't help but watching Yongguk's face as he falls asleep. He looks peaceful, despite the dark circles under his eyes. His lips are slightly parted, his breath steady and deep as his chest moves with it. His feet are still on top of Daehyun's.

Butterflies are swirling in Daehyun's belly, warmth spreading from the center of his chest. He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to wake Yongguk up. He can't wipe the stupid smile off his face, happy and relieved to be where he is.

It's still scary, to think Yongguk had just overdosed on his own sleeping pills, no matter how accidental it was, but at least Daehyun understands more about it now. It feels good, that Yongguk trusts him with that information. He can't help but wonder how much Junhong knows. Or Sungwon. Probably all of it, he realizes. Which is probably a good thing. Yongguk needs a good support system.

Daehyun doesn't got a clock within his line of sight, and he doesn't want to risk stirring Yongguk by going for the phone in his pocket, so he can't tell for how long he sits there, Yongguk sleeping next to him. Tigger changes position on his bed at least seven times. The rain stops, one show ends on the TV and another begins. Yongguk slides just a little further down on the couch, their legs all tangled.

When Daehyun's phone suddenly vibrates against his thigh, he jerks out of a haze.

"Fuck," he says under his breath, glancing over to Yongguk as he digs his phone out. But Yongguk only shifts a little in place, eyes remaining closed. It's a text from one of his dorm mates, asking where he is. They had agreed to all clean the common area Sunday night. "Fuck," Daehyun whispers again, finally reading the time, and how many hours he's spent at Yongguk's.

Carefully, Daehyun untangles his and Yongguk's legs so he can get off the couch. Yongguk still doesn't wake up, just lets his leg fall without Daehyun's support. Daehyun stands frozen for a moment, watching Yongguk curl up on his side, facing the back of the couch. His shirt is so big, his spine poking up from under all the fabric. Tearing his eyes away, Daehyun tip-toes to the bathroom.

When he comes back out, Yongguk has turned around. First then does Daehyun notice how much darker it's gotten outside, Yongguk's face mostly lit up by the light from the TV now. Daehyun bites down on his bottom lip, hesitating for a moment, but decides he doesn't just want to leave without letting Yongguk know.

He crouches down next to Yongguk's head, reaching out to gently shake his shoulder.

"Yongguk," he whispers.

Yongguk blinks his eyes open, looking lost for a moment before his eyes focus on Daehyun in front of him. Daehyun smiles, not even sure if Yongguk can see his face. He thinks about withdrawing his hand, but doesn't.

"I'm sorry, I need to go."

"Didn't mean to sleep," Yongguk mutters, rubbing at his eyes.

"It's okay." Daehyun grins. "I guess we're even now."

Yongguk relaxes against the couch again, making no move to sit up. He smiles back.

"Hey," Daehyun says. "Eat something, yeah?"

"Yeah," Yongguk agrees, voice raspy from sleep. "I will."

Daehyun gently squeezes Yongguk's shoulder, letting his hand linger for just a moment longer before he lets go. He can't read the look in Yongguk's eyes in this light.

"See you later," he whispers, before quietly leaving the apartment.

#b.a.p #bangdae #bap #bang yongguk #jung daehyun #bapfic #my writing

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