#every day my mom leans further and further right and it's so fucking depressing

[veshialles]

"I'm just trying to get you out of your bubble" girl you're the one living in a bubble if you think The National Post is a neutral-party news source

#and then trying to accuse me of ''not listening'' and ''not knowing what [i'm] talking about'' the audacity lmaooo #ah the next 2 weeks are going to be so blissful. a taste of freedom from this hellhole of a house #every day my mom leans further and further right and it's so fucking depressing #ruby rambles #AND THEN trying to shift the blame onto my BPD #like mom I always look up newspapers when I haven't heard about them before #because it's very important to know your sources and understand your sources #because if you don't that's how they sink their hooks into you. that's how propaganda spreads #like I do have a bias and that bias is towards actyually fucking learning and researching when I gain new information #sorry your brain stopped working at age 55 and you've decided you would rather be spoon-fed or whatever but that's a you problem #stop trying to shift the blame onto me as though this is my issue when. literally all I did was #actually look up the source :| #god this is getting fucking pathetic holy fuck get me out of here #tipping on in case anyone wants to help fund my future exodus from this hell <3

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 1. petrichor

Next

You move to a small, rural town, in the middle of nowhere, accompanying your mother. Nockfell, she says. A boy named Larry Johnson introduces you to his friend, Sal Fisher, occasionally dubbed "Sally Face." Your feelings cloud your judgement and you get yourself caught up in what seems will change you and Sal Fisher's life, forever.

[warnings: cursing, smoking]

"the kind of blue that makes you ache."

—

Sticky wood against your skin, the hard pressure of the surface beneath your face. The unrhythmic pulsing of the migraine that pressed at the sides of your skull—like phantom palms, relentlessly squeezing your brain.

You slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before squinting as you adjusted to the dimness of the room. The noon sun filtered through the windows and cast its golden warmth over every surface. Its comfort found its way over your face, and you breathed in slowly.

You could see the dust particles floating through the air. The sunshine opened out its rays over the beige carpet. You crawled from the dinner table, laid on the soft floor, and allowed yourself to bathe in the welcoming heat.

Your fingers absentmindedly began to play with the looped fibers beneath you as you stared up at the dull ceiling and thought. Today you and your mother had awoken at an unearthly hour of the morning to start your travels to a town called Nockfell.

You'd arrived hours later. At the moment, your mother, who was named Michelle, was out at her new job—a supervisor position at a bank, or something. She'd also worked at a bank in your old town but was promoted to another location and that was the reason for the move.

You had the apartment to yourself. It wasn't much better than your last flat—equally as unsettling as the last.

Your body jerked and you murmured a frustrated curse as the resoundingly impressive knocking of your door frightened you into an upright position. You scrambled onto your feet, the heated carpet warming your soles.

After you'd approached the door, you turned the doorknob and pulled it open as far as the safety chain would allow. You then settled your weight on your right foot and leaned toward the opening. The cool, dead air of the hallway breezed your face.

A boy, with long brown hair and dark eyes. Seemed to be around your age, and taller than you. He was tanned. You assumed it was genetic, as your mother informed you the weather in Nockfell was almost always droll and depressing.

You had to incline your chin upward an inch to meet the brunette's eyes.

A person stood behind him, with eye-catching blue hair that wisped past their ears and brushed their shoulders. Matching eyes, a bit lighter than their cerulean hair. The only thing about this person that seemed a bit jarring was the mask they wore. They were smaller than the boy beside him, and you were able to look them right in the eyes.

You weren't any type to judge off of appearances, so you didn't spend much time staring.

"Hello," you press a shoulder against the door, awkwardly fidgeting. "I'm- do you.."

Before you can painfully struggle for something to say, the tallest boy resolves your conflict. "Hi," he grins easily. "I'm Larry, and this is Sal. He and I had the idea to swing by and welcome you to Addison's.."

He trails off, noticing your disheveled state and tired eyes. You were conscious enough to recognize his hesitation and quickly rubbed the sleep from your eyes. "Oh. Oh. Sorry- I know I look so bad right now.." You quickly passed a hand through your hair and licked your lips. "I was laying on the floor when you knocked."

Why did you say that? You've made yourself out to be a real weirdo, haven't you, Y/N?

"Larry", glances over at his friend "Sal" amusedly, almost like he knew something you didn't. His eyes then revert to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but his blue-haired friend beats him to it.

"You're going to Nockfell, right? I'd say you're 16, like us.."

Yeah, okay. Any suspicions a person could have about Sal's gender upon just seeing him—you didn't, his build was masculine enough and you'd already watched his Adam's apple bob, and Larry had referred to him with male pronouns prior—would probably cease upon hearing him speak.

After realizing you should speak, and not silently trail your eyes down his body, you replied. "Oh, yeah. I'll start the same day as everybody else. Shouldn't that be tomorrow, or-"

"After that," Sal tentatively cut you off, and you watched him swallow. It was sweet, his resignation. Like he was constantly worried about offending. "The day after that."

You felt as though you were missing something.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, embarrassment washing over your features. You quickly tell them your name, regretting not having said it earlier.

Beneath the tank top, you were wearing, your bra strap slipped further down your shoulder. You felt it slide. Oops, you thought, comprehending the fact that it had been misplaced the entire conversation.

Quickly, you pushed it back up and reached for the doorknob. "Okay, um, see you guys then!" And then basically slammed the door in their faces.

You slapped a palm over your mouth. "Oh my god," you breathed, abashed at yourself. "That was horrible."

They'll probably make fun of how awkward you are at school, you thought. "I wouldn't blame them," you told yourself.

At the time, you didn't realize the importance of that meeting. But, then and again, if it hadn't happened that day it would definitely have later.

The next day you and your mother settled further into the apartment. Your mother was supposed to start work the following day so that meant she had time to properly furnish your apartment. The moving vehicle had arrived a day after you'd arrived in Nockfell, which was "highly inconvenient and unconventional", to quote your mother directly.

Uninterested in watching your mother painstakingly put flower arrangements together, you took it upon yourself to explore the property and familiarize yourself with Addison's Apartments. There wasn't really much of anything besides trees and grass and the view of buildings in the distance. Oh, and the treehouse. Curiosity got the best of you and you made your way towards it.

It had rained in the night. You could smell the scent of water on dry earth and feel it against your hands and face. You tasted mist on your tongue and your sneakers squeaked on the wettish grass. You could practically feel the dampened mud staining the white soles.

You almost slipped climbing up the ladder and into the treehouse. You were glad you weren't being watched because the face of terror you'd just made was really embarrassing.

The structure was actually pretty impressive. If you could live in it, you would. A few posters here and there and a lot of storage for nicknacks and food. A family photo and a stool. A toolbox, some other shit- it was almost as if people hung out in this extremely well-kept treehouse a lot.

Fuck. You didn't expect the damn thing to be lived in. You'd expected the thing to be made in the 70s and extremely old and abandoned. You'd practically just broke into someone's property! You'd burglarized this treehouse!

"I have to get out of here," you murmur, frantically. "Before we get evicted."

That actually wouldn't be too bad, you replied to yourself. Pissing Michelle off would be really funny.

Letting out a breath, you move from the window and pivot around to climb back down the ladder and run like hell. Instead, your ears absorb the sound of creaking and boyish laughter. You have no time to react before the blue-haired boy you'd met the following day is climbing into the treehouse and meeting your eyes.

His laughter ceases and you scramble to explain yourself as his brown-haired friend follows him into the treehouse.

"I am so sorry," you rush. "I thought this thing was abandoned. I had no clue it was yours. I'm really, really sorry. Seriously. I, um- I'll leave, and I swear I've-"

Larry jerks like he was trying to hold back laughter and promptly fails. He sounds like he's going to bust a gut and you feel your face growing hot. Through your heavy embarrassment, you're concerned he's going to fall out of the treehouse from where he sat on the edge of the entrance.

His friend sends his elbow in Larry's ribs. Larry groans in pain.

“I think what Larry was trying to say there was that it's perfectly fine," Sal looks away from Larry and his steady blue eyes meet with yours. "Really. Not a big deal. Right, Larry?"

Larry wheezes promptly.

"See?"

You can't help but giggle. You quiet yourself as quickly as it starts, and hoped he hadn't heard. When you look away from Sal, you miss his softening eyes.

Larry grins at you. "Laughing at my suffering, it seems. I see how it is." He grunts in his effort to get himself up and on his feet. He's on one knee when he speaks again, an elbow resting on his knee. "What the hell is in that lanky ass arm, Sal? Steel?"

"Something like that," Sal replies, the sound of a smile on his tongue. You meet his eyes again. "So," he says your name, slowly. You breathe in but it hitches. "Why'd you move to Nockfell?"

"No reason that's interesting," you state. "My mom was relocated for work." You step back toward your back presses against the wooden wall and relax your shoulders. "And why did you?"

Sal blinked from behind his prosthetic. He doesn't answer your question but instead returns it with his own. "How'd you know I moved?"

"You don't sound like you're from here," You answered. "Where are you from?"

"Jersey." He returned, gazing at you curiously.

"You guys are like old people," Larry has finally got to his feet, brushing off the black denim on his knees with his palms. He rises to his full height and momentarily startles you. Despite his statement, he asks you his own question. "You miss your friends back home?"

You smiled despite everything. "Oh. Haha, no. I didn't really have a best friend or anything like that. I sort of floated. Never really met anybody."

He pauses. "Well, you live in our complex now." Larry runs a hand through his hair and looks down at you. "If you want, we can both be your friends."

Your eyes widen, and a wholesome feeling flutters in your chest. "Oh!" You glance over to Sal. "I- sure! If you'll have me."

Larry flashes his well-kept teeth. "Good! We need some more females within the gang, don't we, Sal?"

Sal looks as though he cringed. "Please don't call them females. And, uh- sure, I guess."

After that, it isn't a few minutes until you all sit down. You pull your legs criss-cross applesauce and plant your elbows in your knees, resting your chin on your hands.

"So," Larry says your name. "Ever smoke before?"

Your eyebrows raise.

"Sweet Jesus," Sal mutters. "Larry, you can't ask her that." Despite himself, he reaches for the cigarettes Larry's just pulled from his pocket.

"I only asked a question. You're a bully."

You look on in amusement. You can't help but feel a bit nervous about the prospect of doing something you've seen be demonized so often. "I haven't," but this is a new start, right? "Are you offering?"

"Oh, sure," Larry leans toward where you're sat directly in front of him. "Do you want to? Just asking. You seriously don't have to."

It was amusing how hard he was trying not to be to peer-pressure you. You still felt an anxious feeling, but that was only natural. The want to do something "rebellious" overpowered your inner unease. "Uh, yeah. I'd like to."

And with that, he resigns to his own cigarette and slowly lays back onto the wooden floor, brown eyes stuck on the ceiling. Smoke cascades from his mouth and floats through the air. The treehouse begins to smell like a bonfire, the earthy scent sticking to the wood.

You move closer to Sal and maneuver yourself onto your knees.

"Alright," he starts, to himself. He grasps your hand—which makes your heart jump, and you can't tell whether or not you're nervous or his touch had just heightened your attention for whatever reason—and places the cigarette in your hand. "Put the smoke between your teeth."

You follow his instructions. Sal's suddenly closer to you, flicking the lighter with the pad of his thumb and birthing a flame. "Okay, stay still." Suddenly, his unoccupied hand is brushing your hair aside and ghosting the side of your neck before sliding back and flattening on your nape. Chills erupt all over your body from being touched so personally by the opposite sex.

Your nerves are all over as he gets even closer, inches the flame to the end of the cigarette, and lights it.

He pulls back. "Alright," Sal watches you intently. "Now take it and inhale."

As you do so, you notice him stand and walk to the side in your peripheral.

Inhaling it into your lungs tastes like oxygen deprivation and extremely burnt steak. Your entire body is shaking and shuddering as your body instinctively attempts to repel whatever you've just sent into it. Suddenly, there's a water bottle in your hands, and the cigarette has been taken away. The cap has been unscrewed prior, thankfully, and you drink the water. It tastes like god's tears and rainbows and angel dust and you gasp in relief.

"Sweet Jesus," you choke out his earlier statement unintentionally. "What the hell was that?" You raise your head, and he's got his head bowed, bottom straps of his prosthetic unbuckled and he's smoking your cigarette from beneath it. Smoke filters from behind the shadows of the nose and eyes of his mask and into the air and slowly dissipates around you both. "And how are you doing it so well?"

"The first time around is absolutely horrible," he replies to you attentively. "It's all burnt and stuff. Drink some more water and you can try again if you want."

You do as he says, and shortly after you're trying again. It's nearly as rough as the first time around but you hold it in for long enough to do what it's supposed to and breathe it back out.

"Oh," You murmur. "Huh."

Larry chuckles at you from his place on the floor. Sal sends him a lighthearted glare before returning his attention to you. "See? It gets better." Empathically, he adds: "I don't want you doing that much this time, though. The nic sick sucks."

You didn't ask what nic sick was but it was safe to assume it was the effect of smoking past your tolerance and ultimately resulting in nausea.

You pass the cigarette back and forth—Sal taking a lot more hits than you, but that wasn't saying very much—until it was useless. Sal placed it beneath his shoe and put it out. He and Larry both dispose of the cigarettes and return to you, matching your position on the floor.

"So, how was it?" Larry asks you, amusedly curious.

You shrug and smile. "Wasn't bad after the first few hits. Couldn't have done it without Sal, actually." You then meet the boy in question's eyes, who meets yours back steadily, But after a moment, he looks to the floor and sharply exhales through his nose, reciprocating your amusement.

Larry's face moves in your peripheral, and you look towards him, but his features are already changed to how they were before you'd looked away from him.

Huh.

By the time you'd all left the treehouse, the sun was falling behind the horizon, and the sky above you was becoming a darker blue.

The two boys walked you to your apartment.

"That was a lot of fun," you expressed warmly as you stood at your door. "Thanks for that."

"We'll see you at school tomorrow," Sal responded, shifting his weight.

"You can walk with us!" Larry grinned. "If you want."

You found yourself genuinely looking forward to it, agreeing on the suggestion, and turning to your door to open it and retreat inside. Before you could, you were stopped.

"Wait," Sal blurts. You turn, gazing at him curiously. The mask shifts on his face. "Make sure your hair doesn't smell like smoke. Mine always does. Shake it out before you go in."

You doubted your mother would even be awake, nonetheless notice your presence, but you appreciated his advice and followed it anyway. You passed your hands through your hair before shaking it for a moment. You flattened it as well as you could afterward and laughed at yourself.

"Think that was good?" You asked, flashing your teeth.

Larry raised his eyebrows, thoroughly humored. "I think so. What do you think, Sal?"

Sal's silent for a moment, like he's forgotten he's there. Just staring at you.

"Sal?'

He blinks, shaken from his reverie. He quickly recovers, as it'd never happened. "Oh. Yeah," he states, moving to turn around and leave. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

With that, Sal's down the hall and making haste toward the elevator.

Larry exchanges a glance with you and laughs, bids you goodbye with a wave, and departs from you by following after his blue-haired friend.

You think nothing of Sal's quick departure, grin as you think of the fun day you'd had, and enter your quiet apartment.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

[loveislattes]

Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Talk of depression and stressful life, mentions of unnamed character death, mentions of beheading/dismembered head and some minor blood/gore (not too detailed), cursing, mentions of family in the hospital, demon!Dark (akin to jinn or genie), and pet names.

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! This first chapter is allllll story setting. Part two will have the good ol' rough and dominating Dark fucking.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Look, I think it’s just best if you take some time off.”

Though worded nicely, you instinctually felt the pang of panic and anger already bristling in your chest.

“Time off…” you murmur, eyes sliding down to your boss’s desk in thought, “As in, a week or two or…?”

You let the implication hang heavy in the air. There was a telling silence that followed your question. When you finally met his gaze again, your boss let out a hefty sigh. Before he even said anything, you knew what his answer was by the sympathy on his face alone.

“We won’t fight your unemployment for the first few months, which hopefully will be enough time for you to find another place of employment. I’m sorry, Miss Y/N, but between the company making cutbacks and your recent drop in productivity, I had to-”

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed sharply, interrupting him before he could finish the excuse.

Rage fueled your motions, forcing you to your feet while your eyes narrowed on the man you’d once thought a decent person.

“A drop in productivity?” you scoffed, “My apartment building was just destroyed in a freak fire two weeks ago that, of course, my insurance refused to cover. I’ve been bouncing place to place between motels and friend’s homes until I can afford another deposit on the measly pay you give us. My mother is in the hospital, in the ICU, after a freak hit and run. My car broke down yesterday and I walked thirty fucking minutes in the pouring rain today just to make sure you assholes weren’t a man down with all this work. And you knew all of this, but you still decided to fire me? I can’t- You know what, fuck you. Fuck you and fuck this place! I hope this whole company shuts down and you get to experience even a modicum of the instability I’ve had to!”

Before he could respond, you slammed the chair back into place against the desk and stormed from the room. You could feel the confused gazes from your coworkers as you marched to the door but didn’t dare spare them a glance. Most of them you considered to be your friends and you knew you’d have to explain everything later, but you couldn’t allow anything other than anger to inhabit your body at that moment. One bit of sadness and you would crumble. Rage would keep you safe until you made it to your temporary home for the night.

Little curses and fury-filled resentment spilled from your lips as you stepped out into the dreary public. Of course, it was still raining. You hadn’t even dried off from your trek to work and now you were thrown right back out into the storm. A timely crack of lightning rumbled across the sky as you shot one last middle finger back at the door.

“I can’t believe this shit,” you grumbled.

Pulling your raincoat up over your head, you kept your gaze down and began your journey back to the hotel. The one upside to all the rain was that the sidewalks were nearly barren. Cars sped by on the busy roads but you were alone on foot. In fact, you didn’t see a single soul until you were on the block housing your hotel, and somehow that lonely occupant still managed to slam into you.

“Excuse you,” you muttered.

“So sorry, please excuse me.”

The person’s voice sent shivers down your spine and every last hair stood up on your arms. Reflexively you pulled back as a hand touched your side, ready to give them a mouthful, but they were moving on by the time you could gather your wits about you. All you caught was a tall form in a black business suit striding off in the opposite direction.

With an irked tsk and a mutter of “Fucking asshole”, you rushed into the lobby, stomping the rain from your shoes along the rubber mat. Sure you were pissed off but you still had the human decency not to create more work for others.

You managed a little nod to the desk clerk on your way by to the elevator. As you watched the numbers climb slowly down, you mentally questioned the fates if the world was against you. The elevator stopped on literally every- single- floor; All 25. Trying to maintain your composure, you leaned up against the wall and let your eyes flutter closed, slowly breathing in and out rhythmically. Just a little longer and you’d be in the safety of solitude. You could let it all out.

The ding of the lift doors opening pulled you out of your little meditative session and you immediately let out a grateful sigh of appreciation upon realizing it was empty. Being stuck in a small metal box with others for an undetermined amount of time made your skin crawl, much less when you were already on the edge of snapping. You mashed the close button repeatedly until the metal doors finally sealed shut and the elevator began to move. The rest of the journey was a blur until you stopped at your room door and fished your card out of your pocket, coming out with not only the plastic key but a large silver coin.

“The fuck?” you muttered.

As the door buzzed open, you flipped the coin over in your fingers, trying to think back on when you had gotten it. You were pretty sure you’d never seen anything like it before; completely void of any details on one side but the other filled with finely engraved words.

The loud startling thump of your keys as you threw them on the nightstand wasn’t even enough to draw your concentration away from the interesting little trinket. It took a few minutes and some good lighting but you eventually figured out what was written; the discovery only confusing you further.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“Yeah… that’s not creepy at all,” you sighed.

Tossing the coin on the nightstand next to your keys, you sloughed off your wet clothes and tossed them in the small hamper next to your duffle bag. After this horrid morning, you needed a long hot shower before you pondered on any strange coins or the mental shithole that had become your life.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you spent under the burning water but, by the time you exited, you were both hungry and in dire need of some caffeine.

“Or a nap. A nap could be heavenly,” you murmured to yourself.

Towel around your head, you dropped into the bed naked and took a moment to revel in the sheets against your freshly lotioned skin. There was hardly a better feeling. Thank god you had the good sense to buy some of your own sheets rather than rely on whatever the hotels had to offer. It made your day the tiniest bit better.

As you leaned back against the headboard, you snagged up the coin once more. The metal was cool against your warm fingers as you flipped it around and around. Did you dare give it a try? What was the worst outcome: You felt silly for believing a random coin and no one would ever know? Although, what if it was legit...?

Now that thought made you feel silly. A little chuckle passed your lips before you clasped the coin between your hands and brought it to your chest, closing your eyes as if about to pray.

“Alright, I don’t know how this works so I’m just gonna state my wishes out loud. I hope that works for, well, whoever you are. First off, I want that backstabbing business ruined. They fucked me over after I bent over backward for them, now they deserve to feel the same. Please. Second, I don’t know how you could do it, but I’d really like my insurance company to finally approve my apartment claim so I can find another place soon. Third-”

You trailed off as emotions immediately welled up behind your eyelids, the burning already tingling in the back of your throat from holding them in.

“My third and most important wish, please, if nothing else, find the one that put my mom in the ICU and make them pay. Those idiots down at the police department couldn’t find them, or so they say anyway, so just… give them what they deserve, please.”

With a stifled sniffle, you wiped away the few tears that had escaped and fell back against the headboard, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling as you let the pain wash over you; Rage, dread, hope, apathy, desperation. Eventually, the unending barrage became too much to deal with. This wasn't a new thing in your life, but it had certainly culminated into something worse with everything going on in your life; clinical depression exacerbated by a series of unfortunate events.

With no other plans for the day and the weight of your heart heavy in your chest, you chose to simply roll over and bury yourself, and your troubles, in the fluffy comforter. You’d feel better after a nap. You were almost certain of it.

Even as you drifted off into sleep, the tears didn’t cease.

When you first woke, you weren’t sure what had roused you but you knew it wasn’t good; All you could feel was bone-trembling terror. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, felt frozen in place with only the ability to stare at the now dimly lit wall; watching the shafts of setting sunlight ever so slowly creep down by the minute.

“Come now, darling,” a low voice crooned in the void behind you, “I know you’re awake.”

Like a rubber band snapping, the grip on your body suddenly released and you shot up in bed, immediately turning around to find out who had spoken. You weren’t sure what you expected but it certainly wasn’t the devilishly handsome man that was seated next to the window. The sunlight pouring down on him made it very obvious that his skin was lacking any range of melanin, rather being pallor shades of whites, blacks, and greys, but that didn't detract from his appearance at all. In fact, he looked like something out of a Gothic romance novel or a Tim Burton movie. Once the enchantment of seeing him began to wear off, you finally noticed what sat on the table next to him.

A human head.

“Holy fuck!”

A hellish screech escaped your lips as you hastily scrambled backward, trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible, only to go careening off the edge of the mattress. The pain of impact on the floor couldn’t even deter you. As your back hit the wall, you kept your eyes pinned on the intruder, watching for any sign that he was going to follow you or attack.

“While I’m certainly not minding the show, don’t you think you’re rather underdressed for this occasion?” he spoke suddenly.

It took a few moments for his words to sink in but the moment they did, you launched yourself back at the bed with a hushed curse and promptly pulled the sheets up around your naked body.

“Who are you? How did you get in here? I-Is- Is that real?”

Long clawed fingers made their way into the matted, bloody mess of hair and pulled the body part free from the table with a sickening pop.

“It is undoubtedly real, but I figured you’d believe me much quicker if I had a visual aide to my claims,” he replied, dropping the offending thing before tossing you a sharp, seductive, smile, “The name is Dark. I’m a demon and the owner of the coin you wished upon.”

Your tongue felt too heavy to move while you watched in horror as he licked the blood from his fingers like a cat bathing itself.

“I- I don’t-”

“You don’t understand,” he supplied helpfully.

As he rose from his seat, you stared at him owlishly, unable to take your eyes off his graceful form as he nearly glided across the floor to stand in front of you.

“That coin,” he hummed, pointing at the metal disc in question, “It belongs to me. When someone makes a wish while holding it, I’m able to hear them. In your case, I heard all three.”

Trepidation tickled the nape of your neck when your eyes slowly rolled over to the head once more. It was as if you couldn’t breathe. Sick crawled up your throat and it took every ounce of your strength to keep from vomiting at the man’s feet. You don’t know how long you sat there, struggling to breathe and ease the nausea but, when it finally went away, rage took over.

“I didn’t want you to actually KILL them!” you shouted.

The demon casually arched a brow in your direction before saying, “You specifically wished for the one involved in your mother’s accident to get what they deserved.”

“Yeah! Like prison! Not death!”

A soul-trembling crack resounded through the small hotel room as he slowly craned his neck side to side, ethereal pulses of red and blue emanating from his being. Some of the previous ire slipped from your hold when he moved even closer, step by step until his knees were touching yours.

“I will never understand you humans and your sense of righteousness. Would it ease your mind to know this wasn’t the first time they had committed such heinous crimes?” he asked.

“W-What?” you questioned softly.

“I will not delve into details but rest assured that your embarrassing sense of compassion was lost on them; they were vermin,” he explained, “Now, that makes three wishes fulfilled. You have two remaining.”

You thought back on exactly what wishes you had made and were immediately overcome with dismay.

“Wait, what did you do?!” you demanded, jumping to your feet and glaring up at him, “You didn’t kill anyone else, did you?!”

A twinge of disdain passed through his features. His hand landed heavily on your shoulder and you were shoved back down onto the bed with a 'tsk' of disapproval, as if scolding a misbehaving child.

“Fortunately for you, no. Your previous place of employment has simply been condemned for multiple code violations that have mysteriously come to light during a surprise investigation, and your insurance company has been informed that they’re facing a lawsuit if they don’t reevaluate your claim with a more positive outlook.”

Relief flushed through your veins and you thanked him meekly. You wouldn’t have been able to live your life knowing you had caused the deaths of so many people, let alone friends.

“So, what now?” you asked.

“You have two more wishes before your soul belongs to me.”

He said it with such finality and ease that you almost didn’t react at first. Once his words settled in though, oh, panic quickly followed.

Gaping up at him in wide-eyed disbelief, you tried to stammer out some rebuttal or plea, but nothing would come out. Panic soon gave way to defeat as you realized there was no obvious way to get out of this ordeal. It had been clear as day on the coin.

Thinking on the offending piece of metal, you looked over and snagged it up, reading the inscription once more.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“So that’s what this meant,” you sighed quietly, before gazing at him once more, “And there’s no way to bargain out of this?”

He looked mildly pleased by your inquiry, letting out a little hum before falling back into an ornate chair that definitely hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“And what would you bargain?” he purred, “What could a simple little human such as yourself have to give to me, other than your soul of course.”

You cursed his infallible logic and stayed quiet as you tried to think over your options. Truly, you had nothing else to give him; no money nor gifts. Your soul was the only valuable thing you owned, and there was no undoing what had been done. A person had died because of your wish.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up to your full height and prepared yourself mentally.

“Is there a time limit? Do I have to make my wishes today or can I think about them?” you asked.

“You’re free to use them when and wherever you wish. However, do not think this a loophole. Choosing to postpone your wishes until death does not release you from this contract. Your soul will still belong to me when you die.”

Well fuck. There went that option. If you were doomed no matter what, you might as well make use of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity... right?

“I’m going to need time,” you whispered.

“Fair enough,” he replied, finally taking a step back, “You have my calling card. You can call for me if you have any questions, otherwise, you know what to do.”

He strolled back to the window and snagged the dismembered head, flashing you a wide smirk that framed his fangs perfectly.

“I’ll just be taking this with me. Hope to hear from you soon, darling.”

#Demon!Dark #Dark/reader #female reader #PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS PEOPLE #This chapter is a little dark #heh... dark #pun not intended #two part series #Chapter 1

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 30

The Stars Look Very Different

Social Media AU

previous chapter

tag list: @yellowballoon @cleocc @ijzermanora @boldlydeepestcupcake @pduwd @notallthereyall @gingerhead007 @groeneweiden @nyttvera @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @curiouskopf @engelkeijsers @xiaomailab @honeyandsinn @lauren-bk @saraben00 @tailsbeth @boysrunaway @howlingsaturn @menamesniall

I only decided to do this this morning and that’s why it’s so late. super sorry. I hope you still like it ❤️ and as always, sorry for any mistakes

Warning: discussion of mental illness

~^~

Robbe pulled Sander after him, away from where Jens and Lucas were still curled up on the sofa, into his bedroom where he could shut the door tight behind them. He almost expected Sander to flop right onto his bed, but instead he stayed right behind Robbe, ready to bring him closer once he turned, shifting a hand into his hair and connecting their lips.

Robbe made a small sound in his throat and then sighed, gripping at Sander’s waist to pull him closer, even though the other boy had already done well at eliminating the space between them. Still, the kiss was kept soft, free of their usual urgency but with a familiar neediness, the constant desire to be ever closer. This was evident when Sander pulled away only to press his forehead against Robbe’s, eyes shut and hand still firm on the back of his neck, not letting him pull away. Robbe wouldn’t have even if Sander wasn’t holding him. He had no reason to want to be anywhere else.

“Your bed looks very appealing,” Sander mumbled, lips brushing against Robbe’s.

Robbe hummed. “You also look very appealing. I think a combination of the two would be truly mind blowing.”

Sander huffed, and Robbe just had time to trace a fingertip over his smile before he leaned back in for another kiss. Robbe gladly reciprocated, but moved his hands to slide under the edges of Sander’s zip-up hoodie, pushing it off his shoulders and tossing it onto the end of his bed. Then he gave the same shoulders a careful push, and Sander let himself be guided backwards, finally falling onto the mattress with a pleased sigh. He held his arms out immediately, however, making grabby hands towards Robbe, who complied without an ounce of hesitance, crawling over Sander and settling on his hips. He cupped his face and squished his cheeks, making Sander laugh through puckered lips that Robbe eventually leaned down to kiss.

“This is why it’s better being at yours,” Sander mumbled, and Robbe couldn’t argue. He ducked his head down to trace kisses along Sander’s jawline, peppering his cheek, the spot behind his ear, further down his neck. Sander melted further with every press of his lips, sinking lax into the bed underneath him. It left Robbe grinning against his skin, nipping at it lightly with his teeth to make Sander whine and squirm away.

Sander huffed as he pushed Robbe off him, only to follow him onto their sides and pull him back in by the waist. Robbe giggled and slid his hands back over his cheeks as he kissed him again.

“Wait, do that again.” Sander drew his head away, gazing at Robbe in something a little too much like awe, making him turn his face into the pillow and groan.

“Do what?”

“That little giggle.”

Robbe groaned again. “Oh my god.”

“Please, Robbe, it’s so cute. What do I have to do?”

“Leave me alone, preferably.”

Sander pouted, shaking his head rapidly at Robbe’s denial, squeezing his sides pleadingly. It had the unintended effect of making Robbe wriggle, an aborted laugh escaping him.

They both froze.

“Oh my god—“

“No,” Robbe warned.

“—you’re ticklish,” Sander finished, and now that was definitely awe. “Oh my god. Why did I not know that?”

“I am not ticklish.”

Sander rose a disbelieving brow. His fingers twitched against Robbe’s side. Robbe’s hand flew down to still them.

Sander snorted and kissed his nose, tugging him in closer and slotting a leg between Robbe’s. “Too cute.”

“You’re so annoying,” Robbe breathed, in the instant before Sander’s lips connected with his and all words were lost. He couldn’t help but make this kiss deeper, threading his fingers into Sander’s hair and parting his lips. The faint ache in his head had all but slipped away, soothed under Sander’s gentle touch.

Sander himself was a little more lethargic than usual, but no less responsive. He reacted easily to Robbe, lips parting and tongues tangling and hands drifting. Robbe had to keep his grin under control as Sander’s hands slipped under his shirt, skimming over his sides to settle against his back, tracing light patterns. Robbe hummed against his lips and felt him smile, and then Sander brushed over a faint scar.

Robbe’s heart skipped, but Sander’s movements hadn’t stopped, so Robbe kissed him harder and hoped that would be enough. Instead Sander’s hand trailed back over his side, around to his front, and landed on another old mark.

“You really like getting yourself into trouble, huh,” Sander said, and Robbe lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He didn’t want to discuss this.

Instead, he thought of a new tactic, and lifted himself up before pulling his shirt over his head. He rose a brow as Sander gazed up at him, unflinching, nothing giving him away but the slight uptick of his lips. It didn’t take long for him to reach out, sliding his hands back over Robbe’s skin as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. However, instead of drawing him into another kiss, Sander leaned forward and pressed his lips to Robbe’s collarbone, where another scar rested over the bone.

He looked up at Robbe through his lashes, and Robbe smiled at him and gave his hair a light tug. “And you call me the cute one,” Robbe mumbled.

Sander smiled brightly as Robbe traced a finger down his cheek and kissed his forehead. He remained silent as Robbe dropped back onto his pillow with a sigh. Sander followed, rolling onto his side to face him and waiting patiently.

“You remember how I told you about...why I’m staying here?”

Sander nodded, expression gentle. “About your mom?”

“Yeah. I didn’t really explain.”

“You don’t have to,” Sander said softly.

Robbe offered him a smile. “I don’t, usually. It’s not really something I talk about. But I want to tell you.”

Sander’s nod was encouraging.

“She, uh. She suffers from psychotic depression.”

He waited, but nothing in Sander’s expression changed, so he went on.

“She’s always managed it okay. Even when she’d have her episodes of psychosis—she was brought out of them pretty easily. Then when I was thirteen, her mother died. She didn’t take it well. Her episodes got worse. But it was still something we managed, still something she had control of. Then I turned fifteen, and my dad decided he’d had enough. He packed up and disappeared. A few weeks later she was admitted for the first time.”

Sander gently took his hand where it lay between them, rubbing his thumb over the back of his fingers.

“I had to stay with Jens for a week. I’ve had to a lot of times since then. But I never wanted to—to actually leave her. We managed. She was only ever gone for a week or so at most, and it really wasn’t that frequent. Then this past year...it wasn’t so good. She’d space out more often. Talk to herself and then act like nothing happened. She was admitted again just days after I met you and they haven’t been able to release her since.”

“Fuck, Robbe,” Sander muttered.

Robbe shook his head. “When I went to see her—the time I told you about it—it was bad, Sander. They called me because they’d had to sedate her. She was convinced she was being held prisoner, that someone was coming to her. To hurt her. She knocked down one of the nurses. But when I went to see her—“ Robbe paused, choked, “—she didn’t know who I was. She just looked right through me. It was like she couldn’t see me, couldn’t hear me. She acted like I wasn’t even there. That’s never happened before. They called me because—because I’m the only one who’s always been able to calm her down. But she couldn’t even remember me. I meant nothing to her.”

Sander shook his head, ready to protest, but Robbe went on before he could.

“That’s why I drank so much and why I—why I just needed you there. I just felt so...so alone and so stupid and so insignificant. And I knew I’d stop feeling like that if I had you. I never feel like that when I’m with you.”

He looked between Sander’s eyes intently, begging him to understand, and Sander shifted forward and wrapped him up in his arms. Robbe sunk against him, tucking his arms around his waist as Sander kissed his cheek and then tucked his chin over his shoulder. He ran his hands soothingly up and down Robbe’s back, and Robbe was horrified to realise his cheeks were wet. But Sander hadn’t said anything, and he still wasn’t. He simply held Robbe together until he stopped feeling like he was about to crack apart, and Robbe clung to his shirt and allowed his comfort to seep through him.

“I’m sorry, Robbe,” Sander whispered against his neck. “I had no idea.”

Robbe pressed his face to his shoulder and shook his head. “There was no way you could have.”

“I could have been here more.”

“Sander, if you were here anymore, your parents would start to think you’d been kidnapped.”

Sander didn’t react the way he’d expected to the joke. He barely reacted at all. He just tightened his grip on Robbe and said, “You shouldn’t have had to deal with all that.”

Robbe shifted away, onto his back, as he shook his head. “She’s my mama, and I love her. Sometimes the worry just takes over. It’s just—the first thing they did was tell us all these ways it could get worse. Like she had more chance of developing further psychotic problems, or that it could develop into bipolar disorder. I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. It just gets too much.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, harsh, as Sander remained quiet. When he looked over, Sander wasn’t looking back. He’d dropped his gaze to a spot on the sheets, even as he continued to stroke absentmindedly over Robbe’s hand.

Robbe smiled self-deprecatingly. “What a way to kill the mood, huh?”

Sander looked up at that, and there was something equal parts fierce and haunted in his gaze as he stared at Robbe. He moved his other hand up to stroke over Robbe’s cheek, then leaned forward to kiss him deeply. Robbe couldn’t even feel surprise, too relieved as he kissed back, allowing Sander’s intensity to encase him and remind him there was nothing unsure about this.

He pulled back and looked at Robbe seriously as he wiped the remaining dampness from his cheeks. “Thank you for being honest with me, Robbe.”

Robbe smiled, sneaking a short kiss to his nose. “Thank you for listening to me.” They lay and watched each other for a moment, and then Robbe chanced a lazy smirk. “I suppose it’s too much to pick up where we left off?”

Sander smiled again, and this time it was tired. “I don’t think this hangover is going to appreciate much more action, to be honest.”

Robbe snorted and gave his hand a tug, laying flat on his back again and drawing Sander with him.

Sander lay his head on his chest and dropped a kiss over his heart, hugging him tightly around the waist. “I just wanna stay here with you for a little while longer.”

The words were no more than a whisper, and Robbe held him tighter and dropped a kiss on his head as a weight slipped from his shoulders. “You can stay as long as you like.”

#sobbe #rosander #robbe x sander #wtfock #sobbe social media au #the stars look very different #tslvd

[chansmuffin]

Golden Bridge | three

When your soulmate rejects you and you feel like your worlds ending, you meet someone who puts your pieces back together.

Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut - soulmate!au

Pairing: minhoxfem!reader, changbinxfem!reader

Word count: 2k

mlist, one, two, three, four, five

“That was taken off the menu yesterday,” Minho said regretfully when you ordered your normal.

“Shit,” you muttered, “I’ve had that every day for the past two months.”

He nodded, “And for two months I wondered when you’d switch it up, I guess now is the time,” he replied cheerfully.

You groaned, “I don’t know what to get though.”

It was just past midnight and the coffee shop was dead save for one person tucked into a corner on their laptop.

Minho gave you a shrug, “I make a really mean cup of coffee.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Lyn always makes my coffee.”

“Am I not good enough?”

“You are a cello player,” you reminded him, “I have to doubt your taste.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lyn interrupted, “no nerdy orchestra debate here.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Do your best, cello player.”

He squinted his eyes at you, “You’re gonna turn that frown upside down when you taste my coffee.”

You watch him from afar, taking in every detail of Minho as he worked. His perfect sculpted face caught in a look of concentration, his hands carefully but quickly moving around the various machines, and his arms, oh his arms straining and veins protruding while his hands went to work.

There was no doubt that Minho wasn’t attractive and if it wasn’t for his gold eyes, you were sure he’d be easy to crush on. But you knew better. Unlike some people, you wouldn’t fall for someone already taken. You wouldn’t ruin someone’s happiness like that. Not the way whoever she who took Changbin away did.

Minho caught your gaze a couple of times, giving you smiles in encouragement as he continued to work.

Finally putting a lid on the coffee with perfect slender fingers, he slid it over to you, calling your name in a way that caused you to shiver.

“See if it’s good enough for the high and mighty violinist.”

He went to cleaning the counters while he watched you blow threw the lid, trying to cool the hot liquid before taking a sip. As soon as the liquid touched your tongue, you gasped in shock and because fuck, it burned your tongue but fuck, it was delicious. You weren’t sure you had a cup of coffee so good in your life. Your eyes caught Minho as you noticed what seemed to be tattoos peeking out from underneath his quarter length sleeves. Oh my god he really was perfect, huh?

He had tattoos adorning his arms, just like Changbin. You shivered.

“That good?” He asked, eyes heavy with amusement.

Nodding, you gave him a wave, “Looks like you were right.”

Maybe you could be friends after all.

🎻

“Okay, you won’t believe this,” Minho said storming through the shop, “but I found the perfect sad song.”

Pursing your lips, you watched as he smacked the piece of paper down on the counter in front of you.

“Read it and weep,” he said tossing his head back and forth.

With a raised brow, you hummed the notes to yourself and while it wasn’t the saddest piece of music you’d played, it was pretty damn sad. You had to hand it to Minho because in a sea of happy and vibrant pieces of music, it could be difficult to find something depressing. Not many musicians chose to play as such. But you had because now your mom had been gone for five months and Changbin gone for two and things were just that; sad.

Had you gotten over Changbin?

No.

How could you?

He was your best friend before all else and losing a friend was hard enough. You wondered what he was doing, if he was happy and if she was making him feel loved. Selfishly, you wanted him to be miserable but for the sake of the person you loved, you hoped things were going well. You didn’t want him giving you up to be in vain even if you were miserable.

You’d almost give anything to see your eyes gold again even if you swore you’d gouge your eyes out. You just missed the bright shade when you looked in the mirror. You missed the way your eyes danced with happiness. It had been so long since you saw yourself happy without bag accentuated eyes.

What was happiness like?

The only joy you felt was seeing Minho and Lyn when you got your coffee and Gale when you went to your shift at the bookstore. Could that even be considered happiness though? You couldn’t even be happy when you spoke to your father because he was more broken than you were. You may have lost your mom and your best friend that was your soulmate but your dad lost the love of his life, his soulmate and his best friend all in one fail swope. And not only that but he lost her for good whereas you were sure the day would come when you would see Seo Changbin again and you couldn’t decide if that was a good thing.

Some part of you wanted to see him and hoped he’d see everything he missed out on but the other part, couldn’t stand to see him again. He walked out on you. He could have held on because he knew you were loyal. You never tried to lure him towards you as he dated other people, you merely kept your distance and provided him with companionship that any friend would. You knew that trying to seduce him was crossing a line and you respected him. You respected the choices he made and put him being your best friend before being your soulmate.

If only he’d been as loyal to you as you were to him.

You wondered what your mother would have done to comfort you after Changbin left. You wondered what she would think about him falling in love with someone other than you. What advice would she give you?

Surely, you could confide in your dad but at the end of the day, he couldn’t be your mom. Mom’s comfort was always different than your dads. Besides, how could you lay your pathetic heart break on him when he was going through something so much bigger?

The closest thing you had to a friend was your damn baristas and your boss and neither of which you could confide in.

Which led you to Oliver, your dutiful violin that you’d had since Changbin gifted it to you in your sixteenth birthday. Something he’d saved up for, for more than a year. It was hard to play it knowing that he gave it to you but Oliver was all you had and you were yet to give him up. It’s not like you could afford a new violin anyway.

Everything else had been taken from you. Where else could you expend your energy in a healthy way?

So you continued to play him, even if it caused you more heartache than you could handle because he was all you had.

🎻

“Have you ever thought,” Minho mused, “of I don’t know, buying a coffee pot?”

You looked him dead in his liquid gold eyes, “Are you telling me you don’t want my business?”

He put his hands up in defense, “No, that’s not it. You just spend so much on coffee and sometimes you’re here twice a day. It may be a worthwhile investment.”

You raised a brow at him, “You gonna come make my coffee every time?”

He just smiled.

You sighed, “Okay, okay,” you mumbled and then dropped your voice an octave to make it quieter, “I don’t know how to make coffee.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to make coffee,” you spat. “I have a coffee machine but I just can’t do it right. My mom always made it for me.”

He put a hand on the counter and leaned towards you, “I know you’re probably on your own and wanting to be independent but you should ask her to teach you.”

“Ah,” you turned away, “She died a couple months ago.”

Minho put a hand up to his mouth, “Shit, I’m sorry,” it was the first time he cursed in front of you and you found yourself slightly shocked hearing the word slip past his perfect lips.

You shrugged, trying not to get teary eyed about all the things you missed getting from your mom before she died, “‘Sokay,” you responded. “That’s why I spend my hard earned money here. I need coffee to play and I have to play.”

He didn’t press any further, “I understand. I haven’t left my cello alone in months. I’ve wailed on Red so much these past few weeks that he’s covered in rosin.”

“Red?” You asked, happy for the subject change. “Is your cello cherry wood?”

“My little sister named him, okay? What’s your violins name?”

You licked your lips, “Oliver. My er, ex named him,” you said honestly. Ex may not have been the right word but how else could you call Changbin? Were you supposed to say “my soulmate best friend who also rejected me”?

His gold eyes seemed to probe you for more but you just smiled and asked him to make you a usual before the conversation could get any deeper.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” And as you grabbed the cup, your hand grazed his. Instantly you jolted away, feeling sparks ignite in your skin. Minho seemed to do the same.

You carefully nodded before slowly reaching for your coffee again, hoping whatever happened wouldn’t happen again.

That night, you stupidly tried to make yourself coffee and in the end when it came out overly strong and with a bite to it, you sat on the floor of your apartment crying. No matter how many times you’d tried to get it right, you could never make it like she did. The coffee addict who had raised a coffee addict mini-me, knew her way around a coffee pot. You hadn’t been so lucky. Even your dad didn’t make coffee the way she did. Whether in a coffee pot or French press, it always came out divine.

You made a mental note to look for a cheap French press when you could. Maybe that’d be easier?

If all else failed, you’d just continue to buy coffee upwards of three times a day if you had to. Thankfully the coffee Minho made was cheaper than the seasonal drinks you always got.

Times like this, alone and with tear stained cheeks, you really missed your mom.

But as she taught you, you took all your negative energy out on Oliver. She had been a violinist too and always wanted you to develop healthy coping mechanisms. When you cried, she’d force you to play. When you were angry, she’d force you to play.

Her forcing you to play may have been frustrating at first and making you cry or making you angrier but after several times, you got her point and you were sure to redirect every emotion you had.

So once again, there you were, crying and playing Oliver at two o’clock in the morning.

It was just past three when you made a visit to Minho, with still freshly wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. For a moment, you thought it was good to see him but then that emotion passed as you realized, Minho didn’t care for you. He wasn’t a friend. You shouldn’t be happy to see him. His golden eyes reminded you that you needed to stay away.

Not only romantically but in any sense, you couldn’t stand to be around any more happy soulmates.

“Hey, I just saw you - woah. Hey are you okay?”

You avoided eye contact, “Totally good. Can you get me one of your specials, Minho?”

“Sure, sure,” he replied quickly, busying himself with making your coffee. You felt his eyes on you the whole time but you avoided his gaze. Last thing you needed to explain was how you’d been crying over not only your late mother but your ex best friend soulmate who rejected you.

Not that you’d explain it to him anyway.

“Y/N,” he called from where he was standing by a machine.

You dragged yourself over towards him, meeting his gaze just for a moment before looking away.

“Did you maybe want to have a jam session or something sometime?”

#lee minho fanfic #lee know fanfic #lee know angst #lee minho angst #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know series #lee minho series #stray kids series #stray kids fanfc #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skz series #skz fanfic #skz angst #skz fluff #lee know x reader #leeknowxreader #changbin angst #changbin fanfic

[the-hopeless-haze]

Somebody Hurt Me Too Deep (Being Alive Ch 14)

Previous Chapter

A/N: I AM BACK omg ok like I’ve been through it in the last month..... yeah. This was of course based on “Being Alive” but also “champagne problems”... thank Taylor Swift for any emotional distress I cause :)

CW: talks of mental illness, brief mentions of past trauma and car accidents

Taglist (thank u all for reading ily): @caked-crusader @thatesqcrush @law-nerd105 @blackeyedangel9805 @moon-river-drifter @the-baby-bookworm @dianilaws @xecq @lv7867 @arabellathorne  @teddybluesclues​ @averyhotchner​ @houseofthirst​

“Carino? I’m home,” Rafael says as he steps through the apartment door, placing his briefcase down on the recliner. It was only 3pm, early for him to be finished with work for the day, but he had been getting out earlier recently to accompany you to physical therapy appointments. You were doing well, at least physically. It had been a long six weeks, but today might be the appointment that cleared you to go back to work full-time and maybe get out from behind the desk a little.

Mentally, though, it was a mixed bag. Some days were easier than others, and that was to be expected, but it was hard to tell the squad you were doing better when you couldn’t even bring yourself to text them back. Still, he pleaded otherwise, said every day was a new day and carried on even if they didn’t believe him.

Today, though, today was the turning point, he could feel it. You were doing so well, and eventually, your brain would have to catch up with your body. So tonight, he booked a reservation at a restaurant… not any restaurant, but the Cuban restaurant he took you to the night you asked him out and he barely used your first name and he swore he hated you with nearly every fiber of his being.

Right. As if he hated you even then.

You’re in a good mood, albeit not as elated as he hoped, but the physical therapist approves you for work but to “take it easy” and you’re laughing at his wry remarks and squeezing his hand in the back of the taxi on the way to the restaurant. His nerves almost dissipate, but they don’t. And maybe that should’ve been his first sign that tonight was not going to go as planned.

Rafael was never a superstitious man, but you order the same dish you ordered the first time he took you out, and he can’t help but think this is a sign to push forward.

“Oh, fuck it,” Rafael murmurs, a surge of anxiety overcoming him. “I was going to wait until after dinner… but…. I have something I want to ask you.”

And just like that, your face falls, but Rafael can barely take that in, he just keeps talking, his mouth moving faster than the neurons in his brain that tell him to stop, now isn’t a good time.

“I love you so much, (y/n), and I know these past few months have been so hard, and this isn’t the way either of us have wanted this year to start, but… we got through it together. I never thought I’d be in a position in my life, with someone who I love… that I’d be willing to do this, but… (Y/n)... will you marry me?”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, but it feels like hours, days, months. “Can you get up off the floor, Rafael? You’re embarrassing us,” you finally say hollowly, and it’s true, the whole restaurant is stopped in their tracks staring at the two of you. Rafael couldn’t possibly care less, though, he couldn’t comprehend anything that was going on - he was just thinking “well, she hasn’t said no…” and then you’re getting up, throwing your napkin on the table, shaking your head, saying “I can’t do this.”

Rafael gains some of his senses back, enough to follow you outside into the tempering late February air. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, Rafael, I don't,” you say stiffly without turning around to face him. “I’ll get my stuff in the morning. I need to be alone right now.”

“I just… I didn’t know you weren’t happy,” Rafael says, his voice breaking, and that gives you enough impetus to turn around.

“You didn’t know I wasn’t happy? Goddamn, Rafael, do you even live with me? I’ve been unhappy for months.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you know?”

“Jesus, (y/n), maybe because I’m not a fucking mind reader?”

“Right. You honestly thought we were in a good enough place to propose tonight?”

“Obviously! Or I wouldn’t have done it!” he snaps. “You honestly think we’re in a bad enough place that you couldn’t say yes?”

“Obviously! Or I would have done it!” you throw his words back at him, and god do they sting.

“You never told me anything. You just withdrew.”

“Yeah. Maybe that should’ve been a sign. Look. I’m moving back home. I was going to tell you tonight.”

“What? Is that all it was? (Y/n), if you want to move back, I could work something out--”

“No. No, you can’t, Rafael. You’ve never been able to work anything out in your life because you’re too scared to! You just operate on fear - and this is no exception. You thought I was going to die six weeks ago and that’s the only reason you’ve been acting this way, and I’ve been slipping away recently and you’ve just been trying to consistently deny it so you just get on one knee and think that’s going to solve everything, think that’s going to make me stay. That’s not how it works! I’m not happy. I need to go home.”

“Oh no. You know what it is? You’re afraid. Don’t try to put this on me. You’re the one who’s walking away. You’re the one who’s running back home.”

“Fuck you, Rafael. Your family is all here. Mine isn’t. My brother’s getting a job for the first time, my mom just got on disability, I miss my dad… I’ve spent too long here. I’ve spent too long with you.”

“What happened? What the fuck happened?”

“What the fuck happened every other time, Rafael? You’ve gone through this plenty of times before.”

Rafael scoffs, shakes his head, leans against the outside of the restaurant. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m fucking sick, Rafael!” you’re screaming now, your cheeks turning red, your eyes leaking angry tears. “All this time, since the accident, I’ve been fucking drowning and you didn’t even notice!”

“Sick?”

“Depressed, Rafael. Anxious. Liv wanted me screened before I came back and the therapist said so. AGain. For the fucking umpteenth time in my life. But this time, I thought I had someone who cared--”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know if you didn’t tell me?”

“Couldn’t you see?”

Rafael shakes his head slowly, but now it comes back to him, all these subtle signs, the days you wouldn’t make it out of bed until 3 pm, all the days and nights you spent staring listlessly at the walls, the inability of anything he said or did to make you feel better. But it came and went, and Rafael just took it as you being upset sometimes at the limitations placed on you by your injured leg. Never did he think there was something more serious going on. Or maybe he just didn’t want to think that, and he ignored every signal.

“I’m sorry, (y/n),” he whispers, but he knows that’s too little, too late. Both of you were at fault - that was clear to him now - but was it clear to you? “I really didn’t know.”

“Evidently,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“But you can get help. We can work this out.”

“I just… Rafael. I’m not ready. You of all people should have some sympathy for that.”

Ouch. You were going for the jugular now, hurting him where only you could, rejecting his proposal, leaving him crestfallen on one knee in the middle of a restaurant, but somehow your words hurt worse. Anyone could reject a proposal. Only you could psychoanalyze him and hurl the worst remarks his way, things no one else would be able to come up with.

“Then okay,” he sighs. “We won’t get married yet, or ever, if that’s what you want. But you really want to throw this away entirely?”

“I don’t know, Rafael. I don’t. Look, I’m sorry too. I just… I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Do you think… do you think maybe--”

“I don’t know,” you say firmly. “I don’t even know if I really want to go back home. I just know I don’t want to live like this anymore, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“But it isn’t going to drop. I just fucking proposed. I’m in this for the long haul. And fuck it, if you want to go back home, I’ll work it out.”

“This fake optimism isn’t you.”

“This lack of optimism entirely isn’t you! What happened to the woman who got through some of the worst shit imaginable and landed on her own two feet? You got into a car accident, (y/n). You lived! You should be thankful, not sitting here sulking like your world’s gone to shit.” Again, his mouth moves too fast to register the look on your face as it falls, and tears start to stream down your face. He can’t stop but push it further, hurt you in retaliation.

“Seriously, Rafael, how insensitive can you be? I tell you I’m struggling and you invalidate my feelings? Fuck off.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“Why’d you say it then? You know what, I’m done. Goodbye, Rafael.”

“But--”

“No. Give me space. You owe me that.”

He does. And god, it hurts to watch you walk away, his abuelita’s ring burning a hole in his pocket when it should be on your finger. But maybe.... maybe this isn't the end. Maybe all you need is space.

Maybe Rafael's wishing on a pipe dream. He doesn't know anymore. All he knows is the sting of this pain.

-----

You walk alone in the dark, your leg still aching slightly, and you just feel like utter shit. You can’t remember ever feeling quite this low, but you can’t remember feeling rage like this, either. No one’s hurt you like Rafael.

But that’s because you loved him enough to let him.

You still love him even now, but spending day in and day out with him coddling you, you couldn’t handle it. And maybe you should’ve acted like an adult and told him and stopped pretending everything was fine when you knew it wasn’t. If only you weren’t so fucked in the head, right? Just how it always went, your life, cycles of feeling fine and cycles of feeling like you’re scraping at the bottom of a barrel for a will to go on. And yeah, sometimes even you would question why you were taking this so hard - so what, it’s a car accident, you were lucky to have lived - but Rafael didn’t understand and you didn’t know how to make him. How were you going to get in a passengers seat again without having a panic attack? Would your leg ever fully heal? You’d wasted six weeks staring at the walls of Rafael’s apartment, doing menial paperwork for Olivia that anyone could have done. How could you not feel entirely worthless? And then for Rafael to make it seem like you were overexaggerating like you should just get over this… you hated him.

But you didn’t, really. You know deep down he’s just angry the night didn’t go the way he wanted it to, with you promising to be his for the rest of your life. Still, rage is a truth serum of sorts, like cheap wine, and it makes you wonder how deep that resentment runs. How could he not notice you were upset, though? That’s a hell of a blind eye to turn.

At least back home you had Ben if nothing else.

But here, you had everything else. The squad, your career, Rafael… You couldn’t even begin to think about marriage right now - Lord knows Rafael isn’t ready either - but did you really want to throw in the towel? How do couples move past a rejected proposal, though? Hadn’t you hurt him deeper than anyone else could have? And would he ever figure out how to propose again?

Maybe to someone else, you think, someone who didn’t have all these fucking issues.

Before you know it, you have a cigarette in your mouth and a lighter in hand and you’re leaning against the side of a convenience store, watching girls walk by in stilettos hanging on to their men or giggling with their group of friends, the taxis blurring past. Then you realize you broke the first promise you made to Rafael: you bought cigarettes in New York.

Had he really wanted to collect on that promise? It wasn’t like you were addicted, it was just a stupid habit you started in high school to take the edge off, but you supposed some people had the inclination to start and never stop, but you always could when you wanted to.

Your vice wasn’t cigarettes, no, it was love. You gave all you could to whoever would take it because you were so used to people wanting nothing to do with you since you isolated yourself due to your past trauma. Once you got to college, you refused to hide in the background, and you took chances you weren’t used to taking and loved in color, you loved until it made you blue when the boys would cheat or your so-called friends would find different cliques.

You were still like that, albeit in so much a desperate way, and you had been loved in return, now, not just by Rafael but by the squad too - even if you had your squabbles. You loved them to death and back.

But friends were easier to keep than lovers.

Maybe it is scary to think Rafael was going to be the end. That he’d be the last man you ever kissed in love or passion. That you’d be the last woman standing in his long list of ex-lovers - the only one who didn’t get crossed off.

How do you love someone that much? You always said you wanted that, but the thought always terrified you anyway, and maybe it’s why you did push people away when they felt too close because you felt like you didn’t deserve it, like you were still atoning for some sin you didn’t remember committing but you still feel guilty for all the same. You wonder if Rafael feels just as guilty.

You inhale the smoke, feeling the familiar, carcinogenic burn in your throat, causing yourself pain to cause Rafael pain only to cause you pain in return; an endless cycle of hurt.

With ambivalence, you put your cigarette out and hail a cab, and tell him to drive you to your apartment which you haven’t seen in weeks. There’s dust on every surface, it’s freezing as hell, and you don’t know how you’re going to sleep tonight, alone, so you light up another cigarette, sitting solitary with your nerves running haywire underneath your skin. What the hell were you going to do now?

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba

[qlistening]

Is Now a Good Time to Become a Hippie?

Ha ha fun little opening note: I opened my iPad to write this and saw the Cornell notes template and now I’m wondering how the people who had to take Cornell notes to get through college are doing these days. Probably not well.

I’m cracking open the blog again this summer to really do some justice to the two month identity crisis that I, and maybe you, have been experiencing since graduation. I’ve been through the wringer, like most people, with the classic post-grad crises of “What am I doing with my life?” and “What am I even good at?”, and “Will I ever have fun again like I did in college?”. But honestly fuck those crises. That kind of shit is so cliche and boring to talk about. I need bigger broader shit on my plate. The type of existential garbage that can really wreck you. The types of questions that can’t be answered by your Mom saying “it’s okay honey”.

So the set I came up with is as follows: “What rules should I live my life by if I truly believe that our society will crumble to climate change in 1 - 2 generations?”, “How can I ever protect my soul from capitalism when I need the constant stimulation of city life to distract me from my depression?”, and “If I reconnect with my hippie childhood, will it destroy my chances of happiness and success later in life like it did for my parents?”.

I know what you’re thinking: “That’s an awesome list Ava. I wish I could have come up with that myself”. Sorry you can’t be me. 

It’s got just enough “this girl needs to lay off the acid” undertones to be dismissed by the common man, yet is valid enough to make any stoner or stoner+ (the + is psychedelics) a little itchy. 

Whithought further ado--I left this typo in here because I couldn’t stop laughing at it--, lettuce unpack these crises.

1. What rules should I live my life by if I truly believe that our society as we know it will crumble in 1 - 2 generations? I wish the answer was as simple as “more whippets”, but sadly, it just never is. There are actually a lot of sub-questions here like “Is enough change to reverse the course of climate change even possible at this point?”, “Does our species even deserve to be saved, or should we lean into the suffering and let the deer dance on our graves?”, “What the fuck are you supposed to be with your life when you can’t bring yourself to reproduce because the world is ending so you have to constantly invent a sense of purpose for yourself instead of just using your kids as a cop out?, and lastly “What if you’re making a mistake by not going to Mars with Jeff and Elon na d the vibes there end up being super lit?”

You see, I’m really good at coming up with these questions, but pretty bad at answering them. All I’ve come up with in terms of the rules and purpose part is just to vibe it out and focus my energy on good ol’ drugs, sex, and rock n roll till the end. But UH OH! Now I’ve become my parents. 

Perhaps I could focus on nature, gratitude, and spirituality? OH CRUD! Now I’m Rose, who has definitely reconciled these issues better than me, but has the advantage of being an introvert. Shorty don’t need that social stimulation like I do and can just go hermit mode when the going gets tough. Not I. 

How about a commune? Tempting, but I’ve heard about a lot of commune drama in my day and don’t really want to get whisked into some Midsommer shit by accident. 

Comedy? Can’t go monetizing my best coping mechanism, now can I? 

Pose your questions to a broader audience in folk songs like Bob Dylan? I think I’m too street for that and I can’t play the guitar. 

Focus on work and being successful? Nope. Work blows and I’m supposed to be protecting my soul from capitalism.  

I tend to treat this question like the hard ones on the EOGs and just skip it and plan on circling back later.

2. How do I protect my soul from capitalism when I need the constant stimulation of city life to distract me from my depression? And when I say I need that shit, I mean it. New people. New shit to do. All the time. I ain’t havin’ no baby, so settling down isn’t in the cards either. There is no scenario where I am going to move out to the suburbs just to stare at my husband every night for 30+ years or, in a more likely scenario, stare at the wall. I’m staying on the scene for a long time, maybe forever. 

That being said, the city is ripe with capitalism. Everyone works like a dog 24/7, switching back and forth between 2 - 4 Apple devices to accomplish God knows what in the grand scheme of things. Tech, finance, and marketing (the classic city trio) have to be the most pointless and cutthroat industries we have come up with to date. It feels like you have to have to have one of those jobs to live there. To afford it, sure, but beyond that, to know that you beat out someone else to get it and that you have successfully stepped on your first of many necks on the way to the top.

I’m moving to Chicago in like 2 weeks to work in tech/finance and sucking my own dick for having a management position so, clearly, I am not above any of this. But I sure wish I was. Even the first month of my soul-selling transaction feels like it has taken years off my life and dulled my flame quite a bit more than school ever did. So I am on the LOOKOUT for ways to get my mouth on some deep dish pizza and fine Chicago men without all of these bullshit side effects. 

And Finally…

3. If I reconnect with my hippie childhood now, will it destroy my chances at happiness and success like it did for my parents?

I feel like this one needs to be elaborated on a little more. For anyone who doesn’t know, my parents are both raging Dead Heads who practiced the art of escapism together on tour for 20 some years until Jerry Garcia died tragically in ‘95. In a desperate search for a new purpose, they popped out me and my sister and now we’re all living the middle class dream in a ranch house on the outskirts of Greensboro. “But at least they’re happy and they love each other right?” Nope. Ls all around.

Sadly, this isn’t just my parents. This seems to be the classic hippie timeline. You feel good, get high, get laid, and indulge your senses in your 20s and you realize that none of it is monetizable and come out the other end begging for capitalism to take you back and bless you with a mediocre career. I know I sound like Nixon right now, but I’m just reading off the data from what I’ve seen. 

Shit is really fucking sad man. I just want to think and feel and vibe and enjoy the world for what it is before it gets too crispy but I feel like I can’t. Any step away from my career feels like it will just land me at the bottom of the totem poll with a job that sucks even more than the one I started with. And yeah, I’m a lot smarter and slicker and decidedly childless than my parents, but it feels like a big fucking dice roll to do the same thing that they did and expect a different outcome. I mean they are the two most genetically similar people to me on the planet, after-all. I really do think I have to be careful and stick with the straight and narrow for now. Bummer because I would like to just bool before the world ends, but unfortunately, that’s going to take a little too long for me to avoid these problems. 

In conclusion: I believe the answer to the question I posed in the title is “Not really and I should probably start hashing these things out with a therapist instead of a tumblr blog sooner rather than later”.

And if you are wondering, no I am not high right now, but I am about to be because that shit was heavy.

[aries-writingblog]

Stay With Me (2)

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes had never looked at himself as a family guy. He never even thought of it until she came around, flipping his world inside out. Bucky likes trouble and this girl? Well, she seems to invite chaos to dinner.

Pairing: Mob! Bucky Barnes x OC! Alex Grant

Chapter Word Count: 1898

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, actual violence (one little hit, nothing big)

A/N: This is an OC story but I try to make them with the least amount of physical description as necessary. The pronouns used are feminine for the character.

“Hey, Alex- you’ve got another package on the front porch.” Wanda announced, walking through the door with Peter and Pietro in tow. The woman groaned, pressing her head to the kitchen island countertop.

“Again?” Alex asked, she looked over to Peter. “It’s the third time in two weeks- are you telling your boss the supplies we need?” Peter’s eyes widened and he shook his head. For the past two weeks, three unmarked packages arrived on Alex’s doorstep. The first just had some essentials for wood working- stain, paint, putty, a couple of new carving knives. The second had been similar- then she read back over a receipt as she was balancing her cheque book, noting the exact same products were present in the boxes. She could only imagine what was in the next one.

And she absolutely refused to change hardware stores- the workers were always so kind to her and the youth that typically dropped by- most of them attending the annual auctions to show support. More than once, they banded together and presented the group with a donation- which prompted Alex to make holiday cookies for the store employees every year. So, no- she would not give up on her family simply because of one idiotic, stupid rich criminal, who seemed hell bent on forcing his way into her life.

“What makes you think they’re from Bucky?” He asked, snatching a drink from her fridge. Pietro grunted, jumping up and sitting on the island, leaning over to Alex.

“If he’s giving you free shit, I wouldn’t complain.” He commented, tugging at her hair gently. Alex looked up, cocking an eyebrow at the teen. “Wring that fucker dry.”

“Pietro.” Wanda scolded, slapping her brother’s arm. “I don’t blame you, Alex. He’s a shady character, with even shadier money.”

“Okay, why are two teens giving me advice, right now? Shouldn’t you be... I don’t know, cleaning your rooms or something?” She snipped, pushing Pietro off the countertop. “People eat here, get your ass off.”

“I’m serious, Alex.” Pietro stopped her, gazing at her. She stopped pushing, meeting his electric blue eyes. “It would help with some of the expenses here. You know that.”

“We aren’t broke. You are, dickhead.” Alex shoved him down the hallway. “Now go- I need laundry in five minutes or your ass is grass.”

Wanda laughed, following her brother down the hallway. The two had been orphaned kids when Alex found them. They were on the streets, trying to survive. Pietro had been caught stealing from a grocery store, Alex stepped in and apologized for his behavior. The, at the time, nine year old played along and then told Alex their situation. She immediately offered them a place in her home. Pietro had accepted, trusting her fully. Wanda had been suspicious but eventually warmed up to her. They’d lived together for six years, the teens would have their sixteenth birthday in a few months. Every time Pietro or Wanda offered to help out and get a job, she turned them down.

“I make plenty of money at the hospital. You’re only kids now, enjoy your time as kids.” She’d tell them.

“They’re right, you know.” Peter supplied, tossing his backpack to the floor. “He may make dirty money but he has plenty of it. If he’s blowing it on you- what’s the problem?” Alex scoffed, swallowing her last bite of cookie.

“The problem is that you don’t live here, Pete. Why are you always here?” She passed the last of the dessert over to Peter.

“Aunt May is working night shift again and I told her I would stay with you so she wouldn’t worry.” He explained, trying to talk around a mouthful of cookie. He swallowed, taking another swig of his drink. “Plus, Pietro and I have a science report due tomorrow and we haven’t started it yet.” Alex took a deep, calming breath, closing her eyes.

“That’s great, Peter. But I’m also working night shift this week. So, you’ll be here by yourselves.” Alex stood up, stretching her back out. “Don’t burn my house down.”

“Sure thing.” He beamed at her, a chuckle falling from her lips as she started up the stairs.

Alex quickly got dressed for work, pulling on her scrubs. She made sure she had her ID badge, clipping it to her pocket. She then stopped by Pietro and Wanda’s rooms to double check if the clothes were picked up. On her way down the stairs, she heard quiet whispering from the teens.

“- what’s the harm in a date with the guy?” Pietro asked. Wanda sighed, Alex could almost picture her pressing her fingers to her temples in annoyance.

“So what she doesn’t want to date anyone? Just let it go, Pietro. And no one said anything about her dating Bucky, Peter just said that he has an interest in her. And sending random gifts isn’t gonna win that woman over, trust me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, do you know something?” Peter asked. Alex stopped on the steps, curious to hear what Wanda was going to spill to the group.

“Well... here’s the thing. In the back of Alex’s closet, there’s a-“ Wanda stopped, turning around and greeting Alex with a sheepish grin. “Oh, hi Alex.”

“Kids...” she narrowed her eyes, skirting around the group and going into the laundry room. There was a pause before three pairs of feet scurried after her.

“Can we order pizza tonight?” Pietro batted his eyelashes at her, giving his signature pouting smile. She returned the smile, mocking him.

“Pizza in the freezer. And stop going into my closet, Wanda.”

“In my defense, you told me I could borrow that top a few weeks ago and it fell off the hanger. So, was I really in your closet?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. Alex cocked an eyebrow and continued the laundry.

“What would you do, if hypothetically Mr. Barnes was like really interested in you?” Peter asked her, leaning over the washing machine.

“Peter.” She sighed. “I’m not dating your boss. End of story.” She started the machine before turning to Wanda. “Pizza’s in the freezer, keep an eye on it while it’s baking. Don’t let strangers into the house and keep an eye on your brother and Peter. Keep the laundry going and don’t work with any of the auction stuff until I get home. I don’t want any of you showing up at the hospital, wounded. Got it?”

Wanda nodded, repeating everything back to her. Alex grabbed her phone and keys, tucking them into her pockets. She hugged Wanda goodbye, ruffling Pietro‘s hair, before going out. She passed by the large box on the porch, groaning. She pushed it over to the edge of the porch, kicking it for good measure. Then, she got into her car and started to the hospital.

~~~~~~

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Bucky.” Steve advised, crossing his arms. He’d been slightly pissed all day, as soon as Bucky told him of the plan. Sam laughed, watching the buildings out of the window. Bucky groaned, throwing his head back onto the headrest.

“I’m just gonna ask if she got the deliveries. That’s it. No flirting, no banter, nothing. Zilch. Just a question.” Bucky reviewed, once again.

“But in practice, the deliveries are flirting tactics.” Steve pointed out, rolling his eyes. “She threatened to shoot you if you came back, Bucky. Leave it alone.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Bucky griped, cutting his eyes over to Steve. “You never give me shit for anything- girls in clubs, you’ve seen me beat guys senseless, shoot people, more questionable things than being interested in a woman.”

“She’s a woman who has her life together, man. Don’t pull her into this life.” Steve sighed, causing Bucky to shut his mouth. The SUV pulled to a stop in front of the house. Bucky unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. He jaunted up the steps and rapped his knuckles against the door. When it opened, he saw a teenaged boy with bleach white hair behind it.

“Can I help you?” He asked. He didn’t let the door open further than his shoulders. It was excusable. A strange, tattooed man at seven thirty standing on the porch of a woman who threatened to kill him. Bucky flashed a bright smile.

“Is Alex around, kid?” He asked, glancing over and spying the box still sitting unopened on the porch. “Ah... she hasn’t opened them?”

“You’re Bucky Barnes?” He asked, ticking an eyebrow up. Bucky nodded, reaching a hand out to shake hands. Pietro didn’t reciprocate, keeping the door tucked to him. Alex trained these kids well. “Well, thanks for the shit but Alex said she didn’t really want it.”

“Pietro, you left the oven-“ A girl with red hair stopped in her tracks. “What’s going on?”

“This is Barnes.” Pietro looked back at her.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Barnes!” Peter peeked his head around Pietro, opening the door wider. Pietro grumbled something but stood back a little to accommodate for the other boy. “What are you doing here?” Bucky silently sent a thanks to any deity currently listening in. Peter he could work with, the other two kids weren’t gonna give him the time of day. Much like Alex.

“Alex around?” He asked, trying to peek into the house further. Pietro shifted, blocking his view. He crossed his arms, scowling at the bulky mass of a man standing on their porch.

“No- she’s at work-“

“Peter!” The girl hissed, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Shut up!” She turned to Bucky again. “Listen, mister, we don’t want your gifts or you loitering on our porch. We’ve found Jesus, don’t need your depression pamphlet, and we don’t want any of your fucking cookies. Our mom doesn’t condone talking to strangers. Good day, sir.” She slammed the door in his face, the audible sound of several locks clicking.

“Wanda- what the fuck! He could kill you, you know that right?” One of the boys shrilled on the opposite side of the door. Bucky stood in shock- mom? Alex definitely did not look old enough to have two fifteen year olds.

“Oh please, as if. That’ll look real good to Alex, wouldn’t it? He won’t touch either of us.”

Bucky turned and jogged down the steps back to the car. When he opened the door, Sam was doubled over, laughing so hard he was crying. Steve was watching with a ‘I told you so’ smile.

“Alright, you’ve had your laughs.” He grumbled. Shoving his way into the car. Sam snickered, straightening up and looking over at the man.

“That little girl kicked your ass!” He burst out laughing again, pounding his fist on his knee. Bucky mimicked Sam’s words mockingly as he began a search on his phone.

“Whatever.” He breathed out, looking up to the driver. “Saint Quincy’s Hospital, Davis.” The driver nodded, starting the car.

“Why are we going to a hospital?” Steve asked, mirth in his voice. Sam began wiping the laughter from his face, sniffling. Bucky turned to Steve, unbuckling his seat belt.

“Punch me in the face.” He instructed, unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt. Steve raised an eyebrow, cocking his head. Sam turned, serious again.

“Now, wait a minute-“ Sam was interrupted by Steve throwing a punch directly into Bucky’s nose. Bucky doubled over, holding his now bleeding nose. His eyes watered, stomach rolling.

“Shit!”

#bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fic #bucky x oc

[cialbi]

Boy with Hope: Lavender - Chapter Four

Summary: Severely depressed and addicted to alcohol, you had given up entirely on life. Your passion was gone, your friends had left you and you found yourself completely alone. As you closed your eyes for the last time, the smell of lavender wafted through your nose and a boy with purple wings appeared above you.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fantasy

Pairings: Angel Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: Language, Depression, Alcoholism

⤎Previous

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

The smell of citrus had you blinking your eyes open. It was a familiar smell, comforting. A scent you hadn’t smelled in a long time.

As your vision adjusted and your foggy head cleared, you noticed a display of stick-on stars plastered to the ceiling, glowing faintly against the autumn colored sunlight. You’d put them on almost every inch of your childhood bedroom when you were ten. Living in the city, stars were a rare sight, so you had concluded that this way, every night would be a starry one.

You sat up, knees hugged to your chest. A Disney princess blanket was draped over your lower half and ruffled pink pillows supported you comfortably as you leaned back against the headboard of your childhood bed. Looking around made you feel nostalgic, happy even. Seeing the array of stuffed animals that surrounded you and the zoetrope on your white wooden nightstand left a warm feeling in your gut. But something poked at your brain, telling you something was not right.

‘How did I get here?’ You wondered, though the thought felt distant, unimportant.

Before you could dwell on it, there was a knock at your door. “Y/N, can I come in?” That voice. You knew that voice.

“Yes, come in.” You said, almost automatically.

The door creaked open and the curly brown head of your mom poked in from behind. “Hi there sleepyhead, how are you feeling? I brought you some dinner.”

How were you feeling? “Um.. fine, I think?”

Your mom gave a soft laugh, entering your room with a tray of her special spaghetti and a tall glass of water. She placed the delicious smelling food on your nightstand before taking a seat beside you on the bed and reaching to place a hand on your forehead.

“Hmm… you’re still a little warm.” She confirmed. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Scrunching your brow, you tried to think about how you’re feeling, but all that comes up is a groggy mush and that irking in your tummy. An irking that this is an unusual situation and you’re not supposed to be here.

“Well…” You started. “I don’t feel sick.”

She smiled, her pale pink lipstick looking like a flower petal. “That’s good to hear. You really had us worried.”

Looking at your mom was surreal. It had been so long since you’d seen her face; her beautiful, soothing face that always put your mind at ease. On many occasions she’d been your support, held your hair back as you vomited from the overindulgence of alcohol. She’d scraped you off the steps of your house and helped you bathe away the sweat and barf in your hair. She had held you close as you cried from the pain of intoxication, and nursed you the next day with lots of water, alka seltzer and tums. She’d done so much for you, and in return all you did was fall deeper into the hole you were digging. And as you looked at every line of her face and her softly applied makeup, you couldn’t help but pull her into a hug.

“What’s this?” She giggled, hugging you back.

“Im sorry, mom.” You murmured, your voice muffled by her wool sweater.

“Oh, honey.” Ever so softly, she began to rub your back, something she did whenever you were distressed. It was soothing, familiar, and full of love. You couldn’t help but cry.

“I’m so sorry.” You blubbered, burying your face further into her shoulder.

“You should be.” The tone of her voice suddenly changed.

You blinked. ‘What?’  

That irking feeling began to scream as your mom’s grip tightened. The digging of her nails burned your flesh and had you yelp in pain.

“Mom what are you doing? Stop!” Wriggling, you tried to break free but she was too strong. When did she get that strong?

She laughed. Not the kind hearted laugh like before, but a morbid laugh that sent a chill down your spine. Nuzzling your neck, her lips ghosted your ear. “You’re a disappointment.”

Your eyes widened, tears spilling down your cheeks at the comment. Your mom had always expressed her concerns for you, her doubts and sadnesses, but she had never said anything so cruel before.

There was a tiny tickle on your cheek. With surprise, you used all your strength to pull yourself away from her chest only to see the woman you loved most crawling with cockroaches. Screaming, you scooched back against the wall and away from her. ‘Not this again. Please, not this again.’

Your mom didn’t move, sitting there with a deep frown on her lips. “How were we so unlucky to have a daughter like you?” She scowled.

Whimpering, you cried “Mom! I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry? You’re always sorry, but you never change. You can never change!” She grabbed your shoulders, fingernails piercing your flesh. You shriek in agony. There was a chirping noise as the cockroaches began to flood the room and creep their way up onto your bed. You bit your lip, sobs leaking out of your mouth. Shaking you, your mom growled. “You’ll never change! You’ll never change!”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” You repeated.

The chirping noise grew louder as the roaches overtook your arms, little legs writhing like snakes against your skin. You screamed again, trying to free yourself from her death grip but failing miserably. As you struggled, your mom relinquished one hand, only  to grab your forehead in another strong hold. You gasped as she began to smash your head against the wall.

“Die!” She raged.

“Stop!” You cried. Your scalp became wet as  blood trickled down your neck. “Please stop mom!”

“Die already!” Her eyes flashed red, her flower petal lips pulled back in a horrifying snarl. “Just die! Just die!”

Just.

DIE!

Your eyes shot open, the sight of your ceiling fan welcomed you with gentle blows of cool air. ‘Ugh. Just a dream.’ You groaned aloud and flopped your arms across your face in exhaustion.

“So, Sleeping Beauty finally wakes.”

You sat up abruptly to see the black-haired man from the hallway sitting in your desk chair with his legs apart and hands folded neatly in his lap. There’s a clear smirk on his striking face as he eyed you in amusement.

“You… what the fuck are you--” The throbbing in your head cut you off. You put a hand to your forehead and breathed deeply, sweat soaking through your shirt.

“I take it you didn’t sleep well?” He quipped, the look on his face made you want to smack him.

Ignoring him, you rubbed your temples and swallowed thickly. Your mouth was dry and there was an irrevocable thirst that itched in your throat.“Wh-um--what the hell happened?”

He adjusted himself, leaning back against the chair and crossed his arms over his chest before extending a ringed finger to point at your bedside table. “Water’s over there.”

You looked to where he pointed, and sure enough there was a tall glass of water and two tablets of Advil just beckoning for you to claim them. Your muscles groaned as you reached for them, swallowing the tablets first and then finishing it off with desperate gulps of water. When you finished, you placed the empty glass back on the table and wiped at your lips.

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow at your eagerness. “Better?”

You coughed, choking a little on some spit. “Um.. yeah. Thanks.”

His pretty lips tugged into a sneer, a suitable expression for his intimidating appearance. “Don’t thank me.”

An awkward silence flew between you two. You looked at your hands and pinched at your wrist, not daring to meet the scary angel-man’s boring stare. At least you assumed he was an angel too, since he seemed to be Hoseok’s friend. And he had one of those silver crosses. But you would not at all be surprised if he turned out to be the devil's incarnate.

“So.” His voice broke the silence, startling you to look up at him. His chin was angled so that his lashes cascaded a shadow down his cheekbone, making him look even more beautiful and even more frightening. “What do you remember?”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts. Your head was fuzzy, but you could faintly remember running barefoot like a maniac all the way to Martin’s Liquor. “Did I…?

“Drink?” He snorted, leaning forward to rest his chin on top of his folded hands. “No. But you did cause one hell of a shitstorm princess.”

You furrowed your brows quizzically. “What do you mean?”

The dark-haired man cracked a smile. Not a cheerful, warm and fuzzy smile like Hoseoks. The kind that makes you feel like the whole world is in on a joke about you. “Went absolutely bananas. Destroyed half a liquor store. Almost killed a guy. Any of that ring a bell?”

Your eyes widened and before you knew what you were saying, the words started to tumble out. “That wasn’t my fault! I was being attacked. They were everywhere, those… those…” You gasped, finally remembering everything. “Cockroaches.” Shifting your position, you were now completely facing him, eyes almost pleading. “You have to believe me. They were there. It wasn’t a hallucination, I swear.”

“Oh I believe you, sweetheart.” He licked his lips, eyes rolling to look at the ceiling in a bored sort of interest.

“You.. you do?” You leaned forward eagerly.

The angel brought his head back down to level with yours. His expression was unreadable. “I believe you thought they were there.”

Your jaw clenched. “So you think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re sane.” He said matter of factly.

On top of being terrifying, this guy was a colossal jerk. Tears started to well in your eyes. You felt frustrated. You knew what you saw. But none of the other store clerks had seen it. Could you really be crazy? After everything you put yourself through, have you officially snapped? You were obviously seeing things that no one else could see. You trashed a store and, like the angel said, nearly killed a guy. The friendly, freckled face of the store clerk, soaked in blood flashed through your mind. A deep pang of guilt stabbed through your heart.

“That guy… is he ok?” The shame made you stare at the floor as you begged the question.

The dark-haired man sighed. “He’s fine. Hoseok took care of everything.” The dubious look you shot him made him sigh again. “With magic. He took away their memory and healed that guy you shoved. You don’t have to worry about a lawsuit anymore. All they’ll think is that the store was trashed by a crazy robber, or something like that.”

“Oh…” Was all you could say in response.

“That’s it?” He raised a brow. “No questions?”

You shook your head.

You should be asking more questions. This whole thing was utterly perplexing. Magic? Erasing memories? You knew about the healing, but it still caught you off guard. You should be freaking out, or running out the door again. But you had no energy left and you felt like you were going crazy. So you slumped back against the wall and allowed more tears to fall.

“Oh god. I’m completely insane.” You whimpered, lip quivering.

The dark-haired man fished out a pack of cigarettes followed by a silver lighter. He stuck the cancer stick between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag and exhaling deeply. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Ok that’s enough.” A stern voice called.

Hoseok appeared from behind your kitchen door. He was holding a plate of steaming food and a glass of orange juice. His eyes were fixed with a warning stare which he directed towards his stoic friend. With a tut, he made his way over to your bedside and placed the food in your lap and the OJ in your hands. You sniffed, wiping away the tear stains and taking a little sip.

“Yoongi-hyung.” His voice softened but remained firm. “You can’t say things like that to her.” He turned his attention back to you. “Don’t mind him, love. He’s an incurable asshole.” You heard a grunt of disapproval. “Here, eat something. You must be starving.”

It felt like a millennia since you last ate, but as you looked down at the nicely prepared pancakes, you couldn’t find it in yourself to eat. Instead, you avert your eyes to the two men who are now seated side by side, with Hoseok seated criss-crossed on the floor and Yoongi still comfortably reclined in your desk chair.

They both stared at you in intense silence, as if you’d explode if one of them dared to move. You looked once more at the food, then back at them. A new found frustration boiled in your veins. How in the hell did they expect you to eat now? The entire situation was bananas, you felt bananas. And despite your exhaustion, you now had questions and a burning desire for some sort of emotional release.

“I’m sorry.” You started. Biting back the hostility in your voice, you slid the food off your lap and placed the OJ on your nightstand. “You have to forgive me. It’s been--well it’s been quite the day. First, some strange man breaks into my apartment, claiming to be an angell and heals me with his bare hands. And then, would you know it, sprouts enormous purple wings. Ok yeah, that’s weird. But then his moody, outcast-wannabe friend appears out of nowhere, tries to grab me--”

“Moody outcast? Is that me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m the strange man with purple wings.”

“--and basically calls me crazy.” You continued, throwing them a ‘shut-up and don’t interrupt me' glare. “I see hundreds--no thousands--of disgusting mother-fucking cockroaches trying to flipping eat me, but no one else seems to see that. Instead I’m just this batshit-bonker balls lady who almost killed a guy and probably backrupted an entire store. Than this brooding asshole--”

“Yoongi.”

“--I don’t care. Tells me you--” You throw your arms up at Hoseok. “--apparently erased their memories, and used your magic-hands to heal that poor guy, which still sounds ridiculous. So please. Forgive me for asking. But just what in God’s fucking name is going on here and should I check myself for a psych-eval now or just wait until I actually kill someone. Because honestly, I still have no fucking idea if this is all in my head, or am I really--am I really standing here, venting my life problems to two of the lords chosen ones who have been the entire center of this loony-tunes day.” You take a deep breath, regaining all the lost oxygen you have just spent on your tirade, and turn to face the dumbfounded expressions of angel-dee and angel-dumb. “So now, I’m going to be quiet, and hope that for heaven’s sake, one of you will explain.”

“Uh…” Yoongi was the first to speak up. Not breaking eye contact with you, the dark-haired angel slapped a hand across Hoseok’s shoulder. “Wow man. Good luck with this one.”

Hoseok blinked in disbelief, like he doesn’t know where to begin. “Uhm… demons.”

Now it’s your turn to blink in disbelief. “Guzuntight?”

Blinking a few more times, Hoseok seemed to regain his composure. “Yes. Those were demons.”

“I’m sorry, demons? I thought you guys were angels.” You narrowed your eyes at Yoongi. “Except maybe this one.”

Yoongi returned your glare with sparks flying between you two. “He means the cockroaches.” He explained, sliding back into his collected demeanor.

“Wait.” You wiggled a finger next to your head as if the motion could somehow translate english to english. “The cockroaches… are… demons? Demons?”

Hoseok cleared his throat, preparing for a long explanation. “Yes. Well… sort of.” The ‘I-do-not-follow’ look on your face urged him to continue. “Let me put it this way.” He stood and held out a hand, palm facing up. A single glowing orb generated from his hand and hovered inches in the air. You gasped, because despite everything you’d seen today, you were still not used to this who magic-thing. “Every human has a soul. Bright, hopeful, full of light.” He said. “But when that soul is shrouded in darkness, it invites demons to come and manipulate that soul until there is no light left.” As he said this, the orb’s glow gradually dimmed until it was completely gone.”Our job as angels is to protect these particular souls and help them to find their light again, so that it doesn't disappear and leave the human empty.”  

You nod. This all sounds completely bonker-balls, and you’re not entirely following, but you decide to probe further. “So… those cockroaches were demons… coming after my… my soul?”

Hoseok grinned, squinty eyes twinkling as you were finally putting it together. “Yes!”

Demons coming after your soul. Not the most illogical thing you’ve heard today. “Ok, but wait. Why haven’t I seen them before?”

There was a pause. Hoseok’s eye-smile dropping, lips dipping into a said frown. “You tried to kill yourself.”  At the same time, all three of you lowered your gazes to the floor. Another moment of silence passed before Hoseok continued. “That’s when the soul is almost completely consumed by the darkness.”

You bit your lip. “So then I’m…”

“No! Don’t worry. Before I could let that happen to you, I brought you back.” The orange-haired angel assured you. “It’s just now… everytime you reach out for that darkness… it’s like a perfume for demons. They’re attracted to that scent of humans giving into their… well… personal demons. They take on your worst fear and use that fear to devour you. Your soul is still so sunk in black that even the slightest relapse will send them on your tail.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Could you say that in a way I can understand?”

“You drink, you’re demon food.” Yoongi chimed in.

Hoseok’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as he breathed through his nose. “As a manner of speaking.”

You laughed bitterly. “Great.” The one thing your body desperately wants and you couldn’t have it. Because if you do, your soul turns completely black and demons get to eat your innards like spaghetti.

“Think of it like a cockblock. Don’t drink and the demons won’t bother you. Simple.” Yoongi affirmed, giving you a solid thumbs up which made you groan. Hoseok was right. Incurable asshole.

“Well no. It’s not that simple.” Hoseok smacked his friend’s leg. “We need to find a way to bring back that light in your life. And until then, I’m here to stay.

You frowned. You almost thought it was better when he was just a psycho on the loose. Because having a legitimate messenger of God all up in your business was way too much pressure. And to be frank, kind of scary. “And for how long?”

Hoseok scuttled over to take a seat next to you. “See this?” He tugged at the cross around his neck and presented it to your line of vision. He tapped softly next to an onyx jewel embedded in the middle. His gorgeous face beamed with excitement. “This is your soul… well a representation of it. When this completely turns white, then I’ve completed my mission and I’m out of your hair. I swear.”

Looking over to Yoongi, you eyed his necklace which also had an onyx jewel in the center of his cross. The dark-haired angel followed your gaze and looked down too. Then suddenly he stood up.

“And with that, I’m outta here.” He said plainly. “Got my own business to attend to.”

“Still haven't found her, hyung?” Hoseok asked his friend.

Yoongi sighed, a ghost of a sad smile on his lips, which surprised you to see any sort of emotion from him. “She’s a tough one to find.”

Before you could ask what they’re talking about, Yoongi made his way to your window, opening the latch and raising the pane all the way up. He perched like a hawk about to take off, the glowing autumn light casting a lovely glow against his porcelain skin.

“Hey!” You yelled, jumping to your feet but not daring to move.

“Don’t worry princess. They may not be purple, but they’re just as big and just as strong.” He said, sending you a little wink.

Your mouth opened and closed, wondering what he meant until two huge black wings burst from his back. They beat a couple of times to adjust themselves, sending a soft current of wind against your face.

“Oh my God.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yoongi chuckled melodically, a beautiful sound you never thought his snarky lips could make. “Not quite.”

“Let me know when you find her, hyung!” Hoseok shouted after the dark-haired man as he leapt from the window and disappeared from sight.

Your head began to spin as yet another unbelievable thing just happened today. As you sat back down on your bed, you turned to look at Hoseok, trying to find any words. But all that could come out was, “Can’t you guys just use the friggin’ door?”

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

A/N 

Again, pretty much unedited. Will go back later to edit. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! 

Cial

#bts fanfic #bts fan fiction #Jung HoSeok #bts hoseok #bts jung hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hobi #bts hobi #bts hoseok x reader #angel hoseok #angel hoseok x reader #bts #hoseok #new writers corner #fan fiction #bts min yoongi #yoongi #min yoongi #bts yoongi

[vtforpedro]

LONG POST, medical update. ptsd, suicide TW: I’m really tired. I feel like I’ve been saying that for a year but I am exhausted. mind, body and soul exhausted my head got better after I lost the water weight my chemo pill was packing on (I was 15lbs lighter than the three weeks previously. so it was pretty bad lol) but now it’s getting bad again. it never gets to the point of relief, but it gets manageable and now it’s becoming unmanageable again. it’s not water weight but it might be cause I’ve put on a couple pounds over the holidays (just barely a couple pounds, I’m eating much lighter in general) anyway I don’t see the point of being scared to name what it is my neurosurgeon and I believe this is anymore. my psychiatrist thinks it makes sense, my pcp, even the ER doctor I saw on dec. 2nd lol but I am 99.9% sure this is what I have and it does makes sense but every fucking time I think about it for a while it makes me so angry. so so so angry y’all. I wish I could sit every single medical professional I interacted with over the last year or so who didn’t believe me and tell them it’s all been real, they failed me to such a degree I have ptsd and anger problems that I’m going to need therapy for, and tell them to learn how to be better providers. blegh so I saw my neurosurgeon (one of the best in the country) for the first time in april. his thoughts? anxiety with muscle tension in my back and neck that led to tension in my head. as in the muscles around my bones, not inside of my skull. didn’t listen to me or believe me, thought all my crazy symptoms were just anxiety and possibly the chiari malformation but there’s no treatment for that beyond surgery and mine is so mild no one wants to go that route (me most of all lmao) I put off seeing him again because I saw different neurologists and my PCP over the months who basically all said the same thing. like my PCP believed me and gave me referrals to the neuros, but one told me to ‘stop worrying about this and just enjoy life’ and the other sat with me for an hour, the first half of which she was all on board the ‘anxiety is fucking with you, none of this is real’ train until I had to tell her to LISTEN TO MY SYMPTOMS firmly enough that she did. she went the opposite way then and said yeah ok something ‘mechanical’ is happening, you need to go back to a neurosurgeon. turned out she loves the neurosurgeon I saw in april (worship the ground he walks on, were her words) but told me maybe I still needed a second opinion. she did also mention that I’ve been living with this for so long that I’m ‘married to it now’ which still implies I’m making it worse than it actually is but :) whatever, she couldn’t think of what it could be decided to just go back to that neurosurgeon and tell him the physical therapy he prescribed in april I had to stop because it made things worse. his PA tried to prescribe me more PT on the phone before I firmly told her I needed to SPEAK with him face to face because my quality of life is gone, because I get close to killing myself weekly because of how bad this is and nothing has improved since april. only gotten worse. so I had my appt with him in late October I think? I explained all of my symptoms (again) and told him how nothing has changed, things have gotten worse, when I do x y z I have an episode, etc etc. he said he still doesn’t think it’s the chiari but he said it *might* be IIH idiopathic intracranial hypertension first time I’ve ever heard of it and even though it was over 11 months into this, it might just save my life now that I have idiopathic = we don’t fucking know why this happens, intracranial = HAPPENING IN MY SKULL AND BRAIN, hypertension = technically high blood pressure, but for here just high pressure cause my BP is good it is rare, it is unknown why people get it and why others don’t, it is most common in women of child bearing age who are obese. the thought is that the weight on the body causes the brain to very slightly inflate, decreasing spinal fluid flow and increasing pressure in the brain, sometimes CAUSING a chiari malformation to appear, which can cause other symptoms on top of IIH it used to be called pseudotumor cerebri because IIH makes the brain behave like it has a tumor while no tumor is actually present (which means normal MRI/CT scans and the main reason everyone told me I was faking it) I gained 80lbs in less than two years due to severe depression and ptsd. I’ve been at the same weight for almost two years now and was at that weight in Feb 2019 before things started happening in Dec 2019. sometimes it does just come on one day. it can be chronic, it can randomly go into remission and come back, and they have no idea why it even happens. it’s rare enough that no neurologist I saw could even think of it. rare enough that one of the best neurosurgeons in the country didn’t think of it until he decided he believed me lol he leans even more heavily into this because I gained weight so quickly (one of the hallmarks of getting IIH) and I had not a single symptom like it before the weight gain I don’t trust anything or anyone right now and I am extremely pessimistic and have no hope. but the one thing that’s given me a little hope, that’s made me believe this is what I have, is the fucking wikipedia page on IIH. it lists one specific symptom that I’ve seen nowhere else (and is EXTREMELY specific lmao) that I have and that everyone thought I was crazy explaining. beyond destroying your quality of life, the one thing IIH can do is cause permanent blindness. I’ve had a fuck ton of problems with my vision since this all started happening. one of the worst is that if I’m in the middle of an episode and I look up or to the left, it makes it h u r t and makes the episode worse. which is on the wikipedia page! which explains why I couldn’t fucking do EMDR therapy which involves rapid eye movement from side to side :) :) :) even my therapist was thinking this was all in my head and I was just letting my anxiety tell me EMDR would send my head into an episode instead of it actually happening lmaaaao god I am so angry y’all my mom and my uncle The Doctor wanted to commit me in March/April. I had an entire ER nurses station mock me for ten minutes for coming in repeatedly and having bizarre symptoms that, because they were unexplained, they thought I was faking. they belittled me when talking to me. one put the tv remote (no tv in the room) instead of the call button in my hand when I was too out of it to notice. the ER doctor that day told me I was making up a story, none of this was real, and to continue seeing my psychiatrist. I went home that day, told my mom I was fine for her to go back to work (she was angry with me and wanted me to go to a psychiatric hospital), took a shower and planned on swallowing a bottle of pills. I was in agony, utter agony, every single day multiple times a day I thought I was going to die, and it was being made clear to me that no one, not even my mom, believed me. I told my best friend and she talked me out of it, but I came very close and I will forever be heartbroken and angry beyond belief about this (my mom came around not long after this after seeing that this wasn’t going away and has thoroughly apologized for wanting to commit me. she has been helping me every single day since this started even tho she thought it was anxiety. I’m angry but I don’t hold it against her, not after the incredible sacrifices she’s made for me for a year) so yeah. every bizarre symptom, every agonizing thing I go through, the weird discomfort, pain and burning, vision problems, etc etc, all explained by IIH. the very specific ‘looking in a certain direction makes it worse’ has been there since day one. it’s because pressure has increased on the nerve behind my eyes so looking in a certain way aggravates the affected nerve further gaining all that water weight and having my head get so so so severe, enough to send me to the ER again, made me also think this was a real possibility and the ER doc agreed that the fluid retention was making pressure in my brain even more severe and it did ease quite a lot once that was all gone, another reason I believe this is IIH if you read up on IIH or read stories by people with it, it is life altering, debilitating, and agonizing to live with. most people will also have the same story of doctors not believing them and saying it was anxiety before getting this diagnosis the good thing? there’s a cure and while some people may need additional help later on, it works for most people. and it is, very simply, losing weight. 10-20% of body weight (some places say relief can start at just 3%) seems to completely cure it for most people because the brain is no longer inflated and because of that, any chiari malformation (cerebral tonsils sitting in the spinal cord opening) will actually go away, because it makes room in the skull for the tonsils to go back to their normal place I have some trouble knowing that I am partially at fault for gaining weight like I did, but my mom keeps telling me it’s so rare and how could I have possibly known and it was after severe trauma so. trying to deal with that too lol but yeah! weight loss journey. my chemo pill, if you read my last update, completely fucked me up for a while (including the fuckin weight gain despite a low calorie, low fat diet since like nov 1st) so it’s made it hard to lose weight. but now that I’m off of that pill, I’m down 7lbs and I will continue to lose. I have never been more motivated in my life to lose weight lmao and I’ve successfully done it before! I can’t exercise but my neurosurgeon said as the weight comes off and my symptoms start getting better, I will probably be able to incorporate more movement in my life. I can’t even walk around my apt for too long right now cause it builds pressure in my brain. it fucking sucks because this is something they don’t understand, it’s really only diagnosed if everything else has been ruled out (and with a lumbar puncture, but I am too fucking traumatized to have that done. but if I showed high pressure with no reason for it, it would be an ‘official’ IIH diagnosis). but I’m choosing not to do the LP because if I start to have my symptoms relieved as I lose weight, it’s pretty obvious that’s what this has been from the start my brain thinks it has a brain tumor and is going absolutely batshit insane and no matter how much I tried to get people to believe me, it took 11 months to get there. I will carry this with me for the rest of my life and once covid eases, I’m finding a good trauma therapist and working through this if my symptoms DON’T ease, we’ll talk brain surgery. but I think this is what I have and I think I’ll be okay when I lose enough weight (and I’ll feel better all around lol) anyway I’ve had an extremely bad couple of months and I wanted to get this off my chest, sorry it’s so long. if you can please, please, please cross your fingers for me and wish me luck that this is what it is and that over the next handful of months I lose the weight and get my life back, I will appreciate it more than I can say I’m going to thank all of you ahead of time because I lack spoons to reply right now and I also want to thank you all for your support over this last year and never doubting me. for always offering me words of encouragement and for being angry on my behalf. thank you thank you thank you I love you all <3

#personal #medical #health update #tw suicide #long post

[burnedbyshoto]

Seven Days Late - Part Two

todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: angst, semi anti-Endeavor content

word count: 5,716 (it’s long yall, sorry)

A/N: ooookay! thank you for every like, reblog, and request after part one was posted! I wasn’t actually expecting to write a part two... but without further adieu: 

Part One

Seven Days Earlier

Shouto couldn’t sleep, he had been trying for hours, but he just couldn’t seem to keep his eyes closed. Instead, Shouto found his eyes staring at your sleeping form. Drool was appearing out of your mouth, and you sniffled way too much for someone asleep. But still, he smiled, you were beautiful.

He placed a hand on your cheek and almost laughed as you responded to his touch, even though you were asleep.

Shouto pushed back a lock of hair delicately and froze. 

Oh.

He was in in love with you.

Shouto has been in love with you for ages now, since the second year of high school, but this feeling right now. This unadulterated form of love that spread through him as he watched your sleeping form scared him shitless. He bolted up, his heart racing.

He knew that marriage was the next step in your guys’ relationship and that you had discussed being married, but the theoretical was so different from the realistic. No matter how much y/n had changed the way he observed love when it came to marriage the way it transpired between Endeavor and his mother was the only love within marriage he understood.

He knew that his parents were a special circumstance, one of the rare many, but still, he was scared that one day the two of you would parallel his parents. So he got out of bed and went to the bathroom. 

Splashing cold water on his face, Shouto stared up into his reflection and studied at his face. At this moment it haunted him.

He could see the terror and the abuse his father created on his left side, and the horror and depression of his mother on the right. Shouto needed to get out. Immediately.

Pausing, he cursed under his breath, today was his day off as it was yours too. Today’s plans consisted of a lunch date, followed by a dinner party with Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida. Still, he needed out, he needed to think.

Carefully going back into the room, Shouto grabbed his costume that hung on the door and returned to put it on. Finishing up, he went to the bed and sat down, turning on the lamp on the bedside to help him put on the final touches of his uniform, typically you never wake up to his lamp.

Today, he wasn’t so fortunate.

“Good morning, Shoucchan.” He heard you whisper, your voice groggy, and he stilled not having anticipated seeing you awake. Still, Shouto had been raised to be respectful, and with the love of his life speaking to him he managed a response.

“Morning.”

Shouto could hardly focused as you asked about why he was in costume, and he lied effortlessly. You then reminded him of the dinner party, and he mentally cursed. Why were his friends and significant other so social? But he nodded at the reminder turning to face you one more time. 

As he looked at your tired figure squinting at him, leaning onto your arm for support, he smiled but the worries of his lies made it hard to smile at the one he loved. Your eyes glistened the way they did when you locked eyes, and Shouto caved. Grasping your free hand gently in his own, he raised it to his lips and kissed it softly.

“Goodbye, y/n”

Shouto stood up and left after turning off the lights.

“I love you, Shoucchan.” You called after him.

“And I, you.”

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Night One

Shouto found himself knocking on Midoriya’s apartment door that night. It was nearly midnight, but when he tried returning home he felt like he couldn’t face you with these newly uncovered feelings.

Was he supposed to propose to you? Get married? Eventually, turn out to be just like his father and hurt you emotionally and physically? He couldn’t even think about it.

Shouto also knew that he couldn’t just ignore these feelings or else he would quite literally act out because he never enjoyed lying--especially to you.

Was he supposed to break up with you? Shouto knew that if he did that sure you would hurt, but you were you. Unimaginably sweet, kind, beautiful, and amazing. Sure, you would hurt for a while, but hey, you would definitely find someone that would befit your needs better than he ever could, or at the very least would never turn out to be someone like his father.

So there Shouto stood, in his costume, knocking on his best friends apartment because he wanted to be somewhere where he wasn’t reminded of his home-life, or of you.

“Todoroki-kun?” Midoriya answered the door in an All Might sleeping shirt and matching bottoms. “W-What are you doing here so late? Y/l/n-chan was really worried about you not being there for dinner!”

“I know,” Shouto said softly, “I got her text, I, uh, can we talk for a bit, I’m not ready to go home.”

Midoriya looked at Shouto with wide eyes, looking panicked for the future of his friends' relationship as he quickly assumed the worst, “Y-Yeah, come in, guest slippers are the purple ones, I’ll get some tea for us going.”

Shouto walked into the apartment, switching out his shoes for his slippers and made his way over to the couch. Ever since moving in with you, Shouto discovered that the snugness of apartments really grew on it, it was comforting, soft, homey. However, even though the basic layout of Midoriya’s apartment was nearly identical to that of your’s, it just felt so wide and open. Not like home.

“Here you go,” Midoriya concentrated on the two mugs of hot tea in his hands, handing one over to Todoroki who took it with a thank you. “So, what’s wrong-”

“I’m in love with, y/n,” Todoroki states his eyes locked onto the tea.

“Oh, uh, I thought you two were already on that stage? C-Congrats?” Midoriya laughed awkwardly unsure of how to really take in his friends’ statement.

“No, we are, but it’s...” Todoroki paused, it was hard spilling out his guts to people, but he knew Midoriya was the only one that could help him right now, “I want to propose.”

Midoriya choked on his tea. “Oh shit, Todoroki-kun! That’s h-huge, congratulations!” Midoriya cheered, his eyes wide, smile large.

“I’m not going to though.”

“W-What?!”

“If I turn out to be like Endeavor to y/n, I would never forgive myself.”

“No, you would never be like--”

“I spent ten years of my life unknowingly acting precisely like him, how do you know that when it comes to marriage I won’t be like him until it’s too late?”

They stared at each other in a reserved stillness for a few minutes before Shouto shook his head, “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Day Five

After three days sleeping on Midoriya’s couch, and fifty missed calls from you later, Shouto was leaving Sero’s apartment after staying there for one night. Having been yelled at by Bakugou about how much of a “fucking dumbass bitch” he was being during a meet up between Sero’s other friends really ruined the entire staying over the thing for him. Bakugou also relented that if Shouto for claiming he was in love with you but continued avoiding you better than the worst criminals, he was a fucking moron. Shouto sighed, he didn’t really have any other option of where to stay except with his family now.

Shouto walked up towards the stairs to a grand door and knocked on it twice.

Tensing, Shouto watched as the doors opened, and out popped Fuyumi’s head, her eyes immediately locking on him, and a stern eyebrow hiked, “Oh Shouto, you’re in some hot water, huh?”

While Shouto relaxed knowing that it was his sister who opened the door, meaning that Endeavor was probably not home, but tensed again because if that was how his caring older sister opened the door that means y/n and Fuyumi were still conversing.

“Yes, I know exactly what happened, and let me just tell you now: so does mom!”

Well shit...

Despite Fuyumi’s constant provocation Shouto managed to get his sister to stop prying for the night and just let him sleep.

Shouto stood in the doorway of his childhood and teenage room, his eyes swept over the vacantness of it all. His tatami was still perfectly placed in the far-middle of the room, with a light grey futon on top of it, a desk to the left of it, and the wardrobe to the right. Everything seemed perfect. Shouto forgot how big his room was. Hell, in comparison to your apartment, his room could fit your kitchen, living room, and bathroom in it just fine.

It really hit Shouto then, just how much he missed you. He wished he could just go over with an attested plan on what to do, Todoroki Shouto always had a plan, but he didn’t have one and it was making his head throb. Slipping into his old bed, he groaned, your stupid soft and comfortable mattress had grown on him and now his old bed was uncomfortable.

The buzzing of his phone alerted Shouto, and he glanced at it. It was another call from you, your contact picture was from the night of your first anniversary. You were smiling wide, mid-laugh as you ate an ice cream cone that would be snatched by a seagull seconds after the picture was taken. Shouto watched the screen go black as the call ended, he wasn’t going to pick up without a plan.

New Voicemail, the notification read. Being that it was your anniversary three days ago, Shouto caved, and unlocked his phone reading through your plentiful of texts, your worried texts, your texts that expressed love and hope, and the texts that spoke of your love and gratitude regarding him over the course of your three year relationship even if he was ignoring you. Exiting the text app, Shouto opened up his voicemails.

86 New Voicemails.

Putting it to his ear, Shouto listened to the first one.

‘Hi Shoucchan, you haven’t been home in two days, and I’m just... really worried love. If I had to guess, you’re at Midoriya’s right now! Okay, I didn’t guess he texted me that you’re there, but I hope I haven’t done anything to make you upset or irate! Come home soon, okay? Bye, I love you so much.’

Every voicemail ended up being like that in one shape or another, except each one passed with growing sadness in your voice, and it tightened Shouto’s throat thinking about it. He was hurting you, a lot, but he couldn’t call you back, not yet.

It was hurting him, Shouto wanted more than everything to go back to you. To slip back into your messy apartment, and climb into your mattress that was capable of swallowing someone whole with how soft it was. Shouto wanted you like no other, but as he lay there staring at the ceiling of his room, he realized that he couldn't go back without a plan, and he wasn't sure when that was going to come together.

Day Six

Shouto woke up and got ready for the day, it was his day off after all. Walking over to the dining room, he was met with Fuyumi staring at him with the same raised eyebrow, “Are you finally going to explain to me what’s wrong, Shouto? This isn’t like you!”

Shouto grabbed the bowl of white rice topped with an egg waiting for him before he nodded his head, better to get it over with. Shouto sat across from Fuyumi at the table, explaining to her what he had felt that morning he couldn’t sleep, explaining that he wanted to marry you, but most importantly he expressed his anxiety of becoming alike to Endeavor.

“Shouto...” Fuyumi whispered as Shouto wiped an angry tear away.

“Everyone keeps telling me that it won’t happen, but fuck, what happens if it does? What if I hurt y/n and all everyone can think is that they had been wrong all along!”

“No.”

“Y/n is the person I love most in this world, a-and I can’t just let her agree to marry me without her knowing that I can become exactly like him!”

“No!”

“On top of that, I wouldn’t even blame y/n for hating me at this moment, maybe all this avoiding will make it seem like I’m no longer in love so that their future will be happier than it would be with me.”

“NO!” Slamming her hands onto the table, Fuyumi screamed, her eyes filled with sympathy and tears for her little brother. “You won’t be like our father, Shouto! Not even a little bit! Are you kidding me? You think y/n would even let you bully and berate you as our father did to mom? No! If you want to propose Shouto, propose to y/n, it’s not just your worries! I’m sure y/n has plenty of insecurities of their own!”

Shouto froze, not sure how to react about how passionate his sister was being, but Fuyumi wasn’t done quite yet.

“You told me that you felt completely in love with y/n, and that scared you, it’s understandable! You, in particular, went through so much growing up, and you saw the worst of it all, but if this is pure love, true love, I won’t let you sit here and cry about it when you can be doing something about it! Talk to y/n, Shouto, I’m sure they’ll help carry you through every insecurity because marriage isn’t an easy thing! Just like relationships! But don’t you dare throw it away! You’ve never been this happy before, Shouto, please don’t give it up.” Fuyumi gasped for air as she fell over to the ground, her emotions draining her.

Shouto didn’t even move a muscle, his hair was in his face, concealing any emotion that could potentially leak out, and Fuyumi looked at her brother who finally looked at her. His eyes were flowing with tears, and her jaw dropped, “Will you come with me, to a jewelry store, I-I think I need an engagement ring?”

“O-Of course!”

Day Seven

Shouto was cleaning up his room, a bundle of dirty clothes in a bag, and a small velvet box in his hands, he was finally unhesitant to go home.

“Fuyumi, I’m going to head out now, I’ll let you know how it goes.” Shouto semi-shouted as he walked towards the front door ready to correct any and all damage he may have done.

Shouto looked into the hallway hearing the floor creak gently, and halted, his body stiffening as he stared at the one and only Flaming Hero: Endeavor.

“Shouto.” Endeavor greets, shifting to stand parallel to Shouto.

Shouto watches Endeavor emotionlessly, “Endeavor.” He returns the greeting.

They stare at each other for a long time, neither one daring to move or say anything. Shouto concentrates in on Endeavors eye-movements and shifts when he sees him fastening onto the engagement ring box in his hand.

“Is that a—“

“That’s none of your business, Endeavor.” Shouto interrupts, scowling as he shoves the box into his pocket, internally cursing on why he didn’t do that, to begin with.

“You’re proposing to y/h/n? Are you serious, Shouto?!”

Now typically, those words from a parent tended to be one of celebration and excitement, but the words that left Endeavors lips were only ones of objection and irritation.

“Yes, I am serious, just like my relationship with y/n is serious,” Shouto replies back, a scowl on his face.

“You’re really stupid if you think I’m going to let my prized possession marry some D-Class quirk, I won’t allow it.” Endeavor states, taking a few steps towards Shouto who only glared with higher ferocity and hatred as he neared. "Your quirks won't match up at all."

“Grow the fuck up, Endeavor, like hell I’m going to let a man who fucked over my mother have a say in my relationship.” Shouto just about hissed at Endeavor who suddenly had a mood change to bemusement.

“Oh, I see now.” Endeavor ‘tsked’ as he smirked, “You got scared, didn’t you.”

“Wha—“

“Y/h/n suddenly wasn’t working with my successor, and it made national news, hell reporters even came seeking me for answers.” Endeavor smirked slyly, his voice taking on a sing-song tone, “You’re afraid of turning into me, aren’t you? You don’t understand, and you won’t ever understand why I did what I did. I can live with my mistakes, but you? No, Shouto, you have Rei’s weak spirit so, of course, whenever you act like me you don’t even notice and better yet it consumes you.”

“That’s not—“

“True? But it is. You’re going to bring an undesired person into my family, and then you’re going to live in hatred of becoming me while never realizing that you’re acting as I once did. I think of it as irony, don’t you?”

Shouto could not bring himself to answer, his body trembling slightly as if he was once more a small child learning the cruel world of being a hero.

“You may surpass me, Shouto, but you’re still a failure. You’ve failed so many times when your relationship fails with y/h/n, I won’t even be surprised.” Endeavor snarked as he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Shouto alone in the hallway his once confidence now destroyed.

Shouto walked slowly to the train station, he was going home to do something. Propose? Or break up?

Shouto boarded the train, his body feeling uncomfortably heavy as he took a seat, the train was empty, and he pulled out his phone. Everyone was telling him to propose, even Shouto was telling himself to propose, but Endeavors taunts rang out louder than any other voice in Shouto’s contemplation.

Riiing. Riiing. Rii— Shouto ended the call on his phone without even seeing who it wasn’t.

Trudging out of the train, Shouto walked down the familiar road to his apartment and took the stairwell up. Unlocking the door, he entered quietly, unsure of your status but hoping you weren’t asleep. Locking it behind him, he sees you on the table, knocked out, drool on your face, your typical sniffles, ...and the empty bottle of wine in front of you, fuck he wished you haven’t drunk the entire bottle in one seating. He paused again, touching your face gingerly and froze.

Shouto loved you more than anything, and at that moment placed the ring box in his back pocket and decided that because he loved you, he couldn’t be with you anymore. He was going to get it done with no excuses for disappearing and calling you by your last name, something you disliked him doing now.

Before Shouto could comprehend what was truly happening because of him, Shouto stood outside the apartment door locked out, silently sobbing as he heard the wine bottle being crushed on the door and the shriek that left your mouth. The engagement ring box burning his body while feeling heavier than anything he ever carried before. What was he supposed to do now?

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

To say you were a wreck was an oversimplification. You looked revolting, wept just about every three minutes, and just about shut down when the name Shouto or Todoroki was mentioned. It was six days after the fact that the two of you broke up and still it felt like hours ago.

“This is actually depressing,” Mina sighed as the girls of the old class 1-A had called for intervention after you cried on national TV, “Why is y/n crying so much? Boys can totally be replaced...”

“I can hear you.” You mumbled into your pillow under a pile of blankets, “I’m not even c-crying.”

“Well, at least she didn’t deny the entire, ‘boys can be replaced,’ huh? That means she agrees!” Hagakure remarked as she leaned against a wall for support.

A soft, muffled sob came from you again, and the girls found you shoving your face into multiple pillows for you to cry. “Okay, that’s is, get out of bed now, y/l/n-chan!” Mina ordered as she walked over to where you were wallowing in your misery. “Get up!”

Mina, assisted by Uraraka, managed to get you sitting up on the side of the bed. “We just want to help you feel better, y/l/n-chan, even if it’s temporary,” Yaoyorozu explained as she stepped forward taking your hand in hers. “Let’s go out for the day, it’ll be fun!”

“Please shower.” Tsuyu piped in.

You laughed or at least tried to, but it came out as a garbled sob. You nodded your head as you stood up, heading to the bathroom.

“I’ll go freeze some spoons, y/l/n gonna need them for those swollen eyes.”

“Oh, good idea, Jirou-chan.”

So, eventually, with the girls of class 1-A, you stood fully dressed in something cute and presentable, smelling fresh and clean, with makeup on to cover the fact you had been crying practically nonstop.

“Alrighty, let’s go!” They all cheered, and you smiled at them. It was a watery smile, but you wanted to feel better, too.

The rest of the day, you and the girls went out shopping, trying on every clothing item at every store but not buying anything, went to a Cat Cafe, and even went to buy some sweets. Damn was it a long day, but the girls succeeded in making sure you didn’t cry for the many hours you were out together.

“So, we can go back to your house and watch the Top Ten Fails: Pro-Hero Shouto Edition, or anything really, while eating ice cream,” Uraraka suggested as you finished up a macaroon, brushing the crumbs of the pastry onto the tiny plate it was served on.

“They have a top ten?!” Mina shrieked, “Why was I unaware of this?!”

You laughed slightly as Hagakure shoved Mina for being insensitive, but you shook your head as everyone stared at you, unsure of how you were gonna react. Crying in public from a well known Pro-Hero was going to stir some sort of attraction, although most people did tend not to intervene when they were outside of the costume.

“It’s alright, Mina, everyone, but I think I want to be alone again. If you ladies wish to come back over tomorrow night, that’s fine, I j-just,” You stuttered, your heart was racing again as the suppressed emotions of the day were bubbling to the surface, “I want to be alone.”

Slowly, the girls agreed and so you hugged them all goodbye and left on your own.

The train ride home sort of sucked as you leaned up against a metal pole, your eyes closed in the last-ditch effort to keep yourself from crying. Your phone in your back pocket rang, and you slipped it out, hoping that it wasn’t one of the girls or else you would cry.

New Text Message.

Unlocking the phone, you saw the notification belonged to Fuyumi.

‘Hi, y/l/n! would you like to meet up tomorrow? I would really like to talk!’

Your stomach twisted, Fuyumi was your favorite sibling Shouto had, and having to let her go was something that hurt a lot. There wouldn’t be any trouble if you just saw her one more time, right? Maybe then she would be able to give you some advice to help out, Fuyumi was just naturally gifted that way.

So you responded back, ‘yes, of course! I’d love to meet up, where at? I’m not working this week so I’m available whenever you are!’ and waited for a message back.

Exiting off the train, another message was sent from Fuyumi.

‘The Jasmine Tea House at about 15:00? They have delicious tea there!’

You smiled softly at that comment, those Todoroki’s were so traditional Japanese that it often made you surprised, and your thumbs sent back a response.

‘That sounds lovely. jasmine tea house at 15:00.’

‘Wonderful, see you then!’

You entered your apartment, closing the door behind you, and sank to the ground. It was nice hearing from Fuyumi, but god, she wasn’t the Todoroki you wanted to hear from today.

Slipping into your bed that night, you sighed as you shifted over onto Todoroki’s side of the bed and lay there with silent tears streaming down your face until you passed out.

The following morning you climbed out of bed, showered, did your hair, applied some makeup, and changed into some cute clothes. A high waisted, form-fitting pair of black jeans tucked in front of a light pink flowy shirt, it looked presentable to you. Checking the time it was 2:30 and so you grabbed your purse, phone, and keys and left the building and made your way over to this tea house.

You arrived at the tea house at precisely 2:55 and scanned the rather busy establishment for the iconic hairstyle that was Fuyumi’s, and you spotted her in a back booth, her eyes focused on a menu in her hands. Telling the hostess you found the other member of your party, you walked over to the back, greeting Fuyumi as you slipped into the booth.

“Oh, y/l/n-chan, it’s been too long!” Fuyumi sighed, a smile on her face. “How have you been?”

You laughed shortly, pausing to gather up the energy so you wouldn’t bawl in front of your ex’s sister. “I’m better than can be expected, uh, how’s teaching coming along! I heard you were up for some major promotion!”

Fuyumi waved her off, an embarrassed blush on her face, “Oh, well yes! I was to be named Principal!”

Your jaw dropped, that was tremendous, “Oh, congratulations!”

“No, no, I didn’t take the job.” Fuyumi dismissed the congratulatory comment, “I love working with the students too much to go do a desk job for a living.”

You smiled gently, “You Todoroki’s sure are something else, you’re a true hero.”

“Oh hush, I’m not seeking praise, it’s simply the truth!” Fuyumi giggled obviously a bit uncomfortable with the praise, another trait of the Todoroki children.

The two of you ordered a teapot of the tea of your choice when the waiter appeared, and you talked casually after what opinions you had on different things. When the teapots arrived, you thanked the staff member who brought them and placed them to the side after filling up the ornate teacup in front of you.

“So, I have to be honest,” Fuyumi drawled out as she took a sip of her tea, and you stilled knowing what was coming next, “I asked you to come here so I could learn what happened with Shouto? He just came back home that one night and well, it was just... unexpected? And he won’t tell me anything.”

You nodded your head, as you took a gulp of the scalding tea in an attempt to calm your emotions, “We, uh, broke up. He left for seven days, and came back intending on breaking up with me, which he did.”

Fuyumi gawked at the young hero in front of her, who was refusing to admit that the tea was too hot to drink and was just downing it. "He d-didn't ask you anything important?"

You shook your head, frowning slightly not remembering being asked to do anything but to go to bed.

“Ah, okay, well, let’s continue with our tea? I think we will both feel much better afterward.”

To be honest, it was actually really calming to be sitting with Fuyumi and just ranting, because she sat there and listened and gave back incredible advice. The back booth was a good choice because no one was really around to see you cry as you explained what happened with Shouto and how you didn’t see it coming until it was that final day. You admitted that you jumped to conclusions, that you really had no idea why he was gone, but that you had just gotten insecure that sweet Shouto felt guilty in breaking up with you.

After ranting about Shouto, the two of you carried out another conversation about current events and Fuyumi’s own personal life, and by the end of your gathering, you really felt better.

“I’m really sorry what my dumb baby brother put you through, y/l/n-chan, I really do hope we can remain friends!” Fuyumi stated as she hugged you tightly as you were now leaving the tea house.

“Haha, of course! You’re too great a friend to lose.” You agreed as you held onto the hug for a little while longer.

“Alrighty, see you next time, bye!” Fuyumi called out as she walked away waving. You waved back, feeling better then you had all week, and returned to your apartment.

You laid in your bed staring at your ceiling, thinking about the last seven days and sighed. It seemed that at least for today, you didn’t have any more tears left to cry. You stayed in the same position for what seemed like hours before you dozed off thinking about the man who you really wanted back in your life.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

You woke up to the rampant knocking on your door, looking over at the alarm clock, it was only 7:58 p.m., what a good nap. Groaning, you pushed yourself off your bed and glanced at your phone, the screen was shining with hundreds of missed texts and a handful of missed calls and voicemails.

What was going on...

Getting out of bed, you walked to the entrance and remembered inviting the girls over yesterday and swung it open, “Mina could you be any less... impatient....”

It wasn’t Mina or any of the girls in your class, but instead it was Shouto who’s hair was disheveled, and clothes that looked like they were wrinkled. Wrinkled clothes always bothered Shouto.

Millions of emotions flew between the two of you as you stared at each other, and your anger flared remembering the way he treated you seven days ago, so you grabbed the door ready to slam it in his face much comparable to what you did that night. “Wait, no, please y/n/n, please hear me out.” Shouto pleaded but you didn’t care as you closed the door between you two.

You pressed your forehead to the door panting as you tried to control your breathing, fuck did you want to forgive him but you guess that wasn’t happening considering you just slammed the door again.

“Fine, keep it closed, I know I deserve it! I just wanted to talk to you?”

“You have two minutes,” You whispered through the door hating the fact you wanted to listen.

“I wasn’t mad at you, or wanted to break up,” Shouto admitted and you felt a small thud on the door, you knew he put his head onto the door. “I was just scared.”

You scoffed, you see gonna need a lot more than being ‘just scared.’ “What did I do to make you scared?”

“Nothing!”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh yeah, I did nothing and scared you away for seven days and got dumped.”

“No, okay, I see how you could think that, but I...”

“One minute.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“I already—“

“No, you don't, because I never felt this in love with you before.”

“Wow, okay.”

“Shit, that came out wrong, I just—it scared me just how much my love for you has grown... and I was scared. I know the next step for us is marriage, but I don’t want to fuck that up. A-And I have fucked it up, and I’m so sorry for that! I want to marry you, y/n, but I was stupid and insecure about turning out like Endeavor and I couldn’t do that to you and so I left.” Shouto groaned and you froze.

All your guy’s talk about marriage has always been a sensitive part because of Shouto’s past, and your longing to be married to him. And here he was confessing that he wanted to get married but he left you?

“Y/n?” Shouto’s voice cracked with emotion and you snapped back to reality.

You opened the door and saw Shouto with his head down, staring at his shoes, so unlike the confident man he is. “Then explain to me one thing, w-why did you let me break up with you.”

“I was weak,” Shouto confessed, finally looking up at you, “I let Endeavor get to me, and I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

You shook your head as you grabbed his hand tentatively, “You could’ve said something, you know I would fight Endeavor for you.”

“I know, love, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Damnit, Shoucchan, do you realize how much hell you put me through?!”

He nodded his head, but you finally caved as you envelop him in a hug. “You dumbass.”

Shouto chuckles and plants his face in the crook of your neck. “I know.” He agrees.

“B-But,” You hesitated before bringing up what really was on your mind, “You’re ready for m-marriage?”

Shouto sighs, and pulls away, “There you go ruining plans for me, as usual.”

“W-WHAT?!”

Your heart burst and tears flowed down your face as you watched Shouto sink to his knee, pulling out a black silky velvet engagement box, “Y/l/n y/n, I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever put you through and am more importantly thankful for your forgiving and loving soul. I know I left when I shouldn’t have, but you’re the one for me, you’re the one I want and need. I should've done this the first time I felt this way, and so I’m sorry this is seven days late, but,” Shouto opened the box revealing a shiny engagement ring, “Will you marry me?”

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Andddddd done :)

please someone teach me how to link the posts @.@

bonus!

The girls all walked up to your apartment, juggling an insane amount of movies, games, and food in their arms. “I got the door,” Jirou said, using her ear jack to knock on the door.

They stood waiting until you opened the door, and you appeared eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t look sad.

“Hi!” You greeted with a smile.

“You... look happy?” Uraraka mentioned smiling herself, not sure what to expect.

“Oh my god is that?!” Mina shrieked noticing the rock on your finger.

“Yes!” You nodded your head blushing.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha writing blog #todoroki shoto imagine #todoroki scenario #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha imagines #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #todoroki angst #todoroki fluff #todoroki shouto x reader

[tookishcombeferre]

Klaus Fanfic: “A Tether”

I wrote a self indulgent thing for the Klaus 2019 fandom. Klaus is a Christmas movie. I’m trying to be sensitive and not post too much Christmas stuff.

But, I really like this movie, and it was an Oscar nom. The art is phenomenal, and I really like the characters.

That being said, obvs you don’t have to read it.

This is sort of a self projection fic? I wrote about Alva reflecting on the Spanish Flu of 1918 in a teacher’s point of view because I am burnt the fuck out.

“I haven’t heard from Jimmy Krum in 2 weeks. I’m worried. He said in his last letter that his family wasn’t doing well. He was trying to help his son apply for some kind of boarding school program in the city that I recommended last year.” Alva ran a hand across her face as she spoke to herself pacing across the floor of the post office attic. “Although, I can’t remember if he said they might wait until he turned 11 next year or not to send him out.”

“And you probably won’t hear from him until I can safely get out there again. I won’t let you go out. You’ve only just recovered.” Jesper opened the hatch to the attic and stuck his head through. “Go rest.”

“Jesper you know I can’t. I’ve been cooped up for so ...” Alva bit back a cough. “And you’re one to talk!”

“Nice save. Really, you are so convincing. I’ve been fever and cough free for a week. You on the other hand ...” He sat next to her, pulled her close, and kissed her temple. “Need to stop worrying. Everyone is fine. You sent enough homework with me to them, before we all boarded up, for two years. I promise.”

Alva sighed, and she supposed he was right. But, it didn’t stop her worrying. Despite the phone being a relatively old invention, most families in Smeerensberg didn’t own one. She couldn’t call and check in on kids the way she’d like to. Sure, some of the more well to do families had a phone, and she made good use of theirs to call those she could call. Jesper had to remind her to slow down often, especially in those first months of the pandemic, when they were still debating boarding up.

The town eventually chose to shut down after Jesper could no longer deliver the mail. He’d only stopped his deliveries when his own children got sick. This had been in late October.

The kids had gotten the flu, somehow, despite all their precautions. Then, for Alva, it seemed that everything really was over. She and Jesper were up at all hours of the night comforting their children. Alva had never seen Jesper cry so hard as she did when he thought he was alone on the phone with his own father. Jesper’s father was lucky enough to be spared the worst of the illness, and he was in sound enough headspace to listen to his son’s terrified sobbing for nearly an hour before Alva finally stepped in. She had listened to him cry begging for the illness to take him instead of his children, and Alva simply cried with him. There wasn’t much else they could do besides try to nurse their children as best they could and cling to one another in desperation.

In about two weeks, the children had recovered enough that they felt safe sending them to live with Espen Krum. Epen’s son had just recovered from the illness and war wounds, and Espen was more than happy to take in two young children that would cheer his son up for sure. Alva remembered how the thought of the two kids living there for awhile made Jesper smile. They both recalled how Jesper mailed the love letters back and forth between young Broderick Krum, the first toy recipient, and Greta Ellingbow during his time in The Great War.

Alva couldn’t help but be thankful that they’d sent the children away before they had the opportunity to see their father in the worst throws of the illness. Alva knew the illness preyed on healthy people almost more than those who had reasons for complications. She shuddered at the images of Jesper’s thrashing as he cried for his father, for her, and for Klaus. He begged her forgiveness as he sat trapped in the memory of all those Christmas Eve’s ago. She stayed with him as he begged Klaus’ understanding, promised he’d changed, and pleaded with her to still love him despite it all. Gone was the loving goofiness of the man who tucked their children in with jokes about stamps and letters. In its place, her strong husband shook with terror, and his fears of abandonment were laid bare before her. It was two weeks of caring for Jesper, and reassuring their children, before Jesper finally recovered enough for her to be satisfied.

It was only then, when she felt certain of his recovery, that her body finally succumbed to the illness. She had little recollection of the two weeks she was tended to by her husband, but he’d assured her that she hadn’t said anything too damning, and on the whole, she was more compliant than when she was healthy. He’d called the children faithfully each night, and he remained by her side all the other moments of the day. He rested with her, and he kept her cool. She still remembered just days ago, in the very first days of December, when she finally woke up and saw his face.

His eyes had sparkled with tears as he looked at her and whispered, “I knew you could do it.”

“Alva? Yoo-hoo?” Jesper waved a hand in front of her face.

Alva blinked herself back to the present moment.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about Lydia and Willem. It’ll be good to have the kids back before the holiday.” Alva leaned into Jesper’s shoulder.

He hummed his agreement. “Yes. Oh! Speaking of which. I have a surprise.”

Jesper helped his wife to her feet and guided her down the ladder and into their living room.

“Surprise!” He placed his chin on her shoulder. “I decorated it while you were sleeping.”

Alva smiled. It was far simpler than most years. The four stockings were hanging on the fire place. The tree was wrapped in a small amount of garland and maybe half of their ornaments were put up. She noticed the cookie plate already waiting with two glasses set out for the annual appearance.

Alva turned and stared at Jesper. “I sometimes wish he was still here. I have so many questions.”

Jesper hummed and pulled her close.

“As do I,” he said in a soft voice.

The two of them stood and surveyed the scene in silence for a few moments. Jesper placed his hands on Alva’s shoulders when they tensed suddenly.

“What is it? If you’re worried about Lydia, I just got word from Espen Krum that she’s had no complications. And, Willem has slept through the night soundly without bothering anybody for the last week.” Jesper reassured. “They’re doing fine. Also, we still do have a phone. I’ll let you pick 3 people to call as a treat. It is St. Nick’s Day after all.”

She blinked at him before face planting into his chest.

“I feel so useless.” She sobbed into his chest.

“Now, why would you think that? You’ve done so much for me, for the kids, and for your students. All through October, you taught every damn day, and made all those stupid work packets to last them until we could go back safe. You gave them book lists. You told them to call you if they had phones and were stuck. You even answered most calls until our own kids got sick. Alva,” he lifted her chin and kissed her forehead. “What more can you do?”

“I-I ... I don’t know.” She sobbed as she fell further into his chest. “I don’t know. But, it’s so hard. I can’t let it go back to the way it was before when the kids here could barely speak and poor Jimmy Krum was 13 and couldn’t write his own name. I can’t let that happen. What if they forget everything?”

“It won’t. You know why?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and swayed her side to side. “Because, you’re the best damn teacher this place has ever seen. You took kids who could barely speak and taught them to be kind, to think for themselves, to report the misdeeds of their parents, and to stand up for themselves. So what, they forget how to write the letter “a?” Or so what, Heather’s daughter still mixes up 0 and 8 like her mom did on her return address most of the time she was a kid? Those are all things that can be retaught. But, you’ve got heart again, now. You’ll make it work.”

Alva felt a fresh wave of tears bring her to her knees. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just ... I want to stop worrying, but I can’t. I want it to be over, Jesper. I want it to be over. I’m so tired.”

“I know.” Jesper knelt next to her. “Do you want me to hold you or will that make it worse?”

“Hold me?” Alva reached out to him.

They sat there on the floor for a long time as Alva clung to Jesper and cried. Jesper just rubbed her back and told her it was going to be okay in the end, but he recognized that it sucked right now. He reminded her she had every right to be sad and stressed, and he let her cry. He told her that she’d carried the weight of their family and town for too long. She had laughed and said they both had, and they both cried. They cried because the house was empty of the two people they loved most apart from each other. They cried because they’d never had the chance to mourn the moment they each thought one almost lost the other.

For, they knew, they would fade into the dark abyss of depression without one acting as the rope to tether the other from being lost in the icy sea.

Eventually, they rose on creaking limbs to sit in their chairs by the window. The two of them cast long glances at the snow outside.

“Do you think he knows? Or will I have to tell him?” Jesper’s voice was quiet and somber, in ways it so rarely was. “I don’t want to tell him that I almost lost you.”

“I don’t know, Jesper. But, something tells me that, somehow, he knows.” Alva patted his hand.

He nodded. “I was thinking that next week I would send for the kids and reopen the post office. Mail for Klaus is likely pretty backed up.”

Alva hummed her acknowledgement. “I think that would be a wise idea. Thank you for waiting that long. I know it’s hard for you.”

“I just ... I’m nervous. But, not about being out there. I just ... I never want you out of my sight again.” He clasped her hand tightly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.” She kissed his cheek. “It takes a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

He laughed lightly despite everything. “Good thing I actually want you around then.”

He stood, and they held each other for a moment before sharing a chaste kiss.

The two of them walked to their room, and they nestled down together in each other’s embrace. Tomorrow would find them still snuggled together as the rays of dawn poked through the window.

*******************The End **************************

Some notes on my thoughts about the timeline of events leading up to this/other weird headcanons.

I kind of assumed the movie was set in late 1890ish (based on fashion and some of the tech people had - such as the type of boat, the lack of whaling, and the items on Father Johanssen’s desk - I thought I saw some kind of phone which would have put the film at at least 1876).

Also, women’s fraternities began forming in the late 1860s-1870s. Considering Alva is a graduate of a university of some sort, we can infer that she would have gone to school during a time in which it was at least somewhat more normal to see women being educated. My sorority was founded in 1870 and we’re one of the oldest.

I would assume Alva is about 23-25 during the film considering she probs would have graduated at like 20ish. I thought she said she’d been there for like 3 years or so. So, I kind of assumed she’d graduated in mid to late 1890s and took her job in 1895 (20) and 3 (23) years later wanted to head out.

I also head canon that Alva was a member of the Sami tribe and left on less than great terms to go to the city to be educated. This is why she took the job in Smeerensberg in the first place. The Sami are pretty isolated from the feud and don’t really seem to know about it (to our knowledge). So, it would make sense that she might want to come home and patch things up by teaching nearby. It would also help to explain why she speaks and is able to translate Sami.

The only thing that kills this theory is the lack of cars. I suppose, since, those were invented in 1886? But, cars didn’t fully replace horses until 1907. Also, I’m pretty sure Smeerensberg is exempt from the car rule anyway.

Based on my weird digging into accurate time frames for the movie, I assumed the first Christmas was around 1898. That being said this takes place approximately 20ish years after my thoughts on when the film took place. The fic is set during the height of the Spanish Flu of 1918.

Further timeline clarifications: Alva and Jesper dated for about 3 years. They were married in 1901 (26/29). They had their first child in 1905 (30/33), and they had their second in 1908 (32/35). Klaus died 1910 (34/37) (12 years after the first Christmas in 1898). The original children would be in their 20s-30s ish (I pegged most of them to be about 5 and the oldest at about 13). Therefore, some of the older ones have kids of their own. Jesper and Alva’s kids are 13 (Lydia) and 10(Willem). Alva is approx 43 and Jesper is 46.

#klaus 2019 #spanish flu #artists of the pandemic #christmas mention #Jesper #Alva #klaus #christmas movies #my fan fic #pip writes things #pip rambles #pip does life #special interest

[alolanrain]

Nessa doesn’t believe it. She looks at Raihan with a raised eyebrow as Sonia continues to try and drag detail after detail out of him. “You’re so not in a relationship.”

“I am too!?” Raihan scrunched his face up at her. Eyeing the water gym leader like she’s gone particularly crazy. “Just because I don’t want to say anything more then ‘I’m taken’ doesn’t mean I’m not in a relationship.”

“Still.” She scoffed. Turning her nose up and away from the much taller man.

“Nessa!” Sonia admonished.

They didn’t say anything more after Sonia conceded the floor back to Raihan who was talking about how cool Sinnoh was during his dragon tamer camp he got to go to. 

Nessa still held onto her doubts but refused to speak any more on the topic of Raihans so called significant other.

———

It’s two years later when she spots a simple ring on Raihans finger, an engagement ring to be precise. They were at Melody’s place for a group dinner, Leon couldn’t make it like usual but that didn’t mean they couldn’t.

Raihan was talking in his comical way with his hands again. The piece of jewelry glittered in the sunlight that his hand swiped through when made a swooping motion, to represent a bird Pokémon to Gordie, before Melody immediately grabbed his hands and brought it up back into the light to examine it.

“Your married!?” Gordie was the first one to speak. Jaw slack as he spotted the ring for the first time.

“Engaged.” Raihan corrected. A syrupy sweet smile graced his lips as his bright blue eyes softened when Melody let out of his hand. Raihans other hand came up and his fingers twisted the ring about.

“I’m so happy for you!” Melody sang. Slinging an arm around Raihans shoulders and bringing the much large young adult into a tight side hug.

“Thanks Miss Melody.” Raihan grumbled.

“Oh who’s the lucky girl?” Piers snipped from the couch he was laying on. Currently having one of Melody’s younger kids on his stomach while the other happily plays with his hair.

“Who’s the lucky Ratatta in your hair?” Raihan snipped back jokingly. The two stuck their tongues out at each other but Piers didn’t question Raihan any further.

Nessa opted not to say anything. Biting her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched Milo get excited along with Bea and Opal about wedding plans and what’s Raihans theme for the wedding.

apparently it was gonna be themed after the sun and night. Very poetic and had all the girls there swooning slightly and Raihan actually having a more visible blush on his face. 

She still couldn’t find it in herself to believe Raihan. For so long he’s been trailing after Leon, their residential sunshine boy, and it seems so weird that Raihan would just drop him all of a sudden. Even after working so hard to get Leon to notice him romantically for years. 

Nessa will ask Sonia later. Raihan trust’s her more then anyone else in the league with this kind of gushy stuff. she’s bound to know more then anyone else. they are childhood friends after all with Rose being Raihan’s dad and Professor Magnolia being her Grandma. 

———

“Wait you have no clue!?” Nessa nearly screamed in shock and a bit of anger, “but you’re Raihan’s childhood best friend.” 

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn't know.” Sonia pointed out. stabbing into her piece of cake and eyeing her Grandma who was looking at some books on the other side of the lab and household. “Even though I kinda should? If that makes sense.” 

Nessa rolled a hand at her friend to continue as she sipped at her tea. eyes never leaving Sonia’s depressed face. 

“It’s obvious that Raihan wants to talk about... whoever he’s engaged to, but he always stops at the last second and looks around like someone might be recording him. even when we’re alone at his house or mine! this engagement is like this big dirty secret that nobody can know about and it’s killing me Nes! it’s killing me!” Sonia whined. slumping onto the table as Nessa moved her tea away, this was normal for the red head girl to act like this, draping herself over any object or living thing when she’s having a ‘crisis’. 

“Have you asked him about it?” Nessa prodded, “like call him out over him being secretive?” 

“I have!” Sonia shot up, hands almost slamming onto the table but stopping just above it, eye’s going back to her unassuming Grandma, “he called me a ‘bad friend’ for trying to pry into his deep personal life but I have the right as a best friend to know who he’s going to get married to.”  

Nessa didn’t say anything to that. perusing her lips and staring down to her half filed cup of tea. 

“Do you think he might be scared of something happening?” Sonia pipped up after a few minutes of both of them brain storming just what would make Raihan keep such a big secret under wraps for so long. 

“No clue.” Nessa muttered. 

———

Nessa’s the third one to notice the change of rings on Raihan’s hand. instead of a simple plain silver the ring was now a thick dark oak band mixed with some kind of dark blue jewel and gold. Elegant and stylish. 

she walked in on Raihan having a stare down with Rose, not even bothering to waver his gaze over to Oleana. Leon was sunk down in his seat as he watched Rose and Raihan glare and spit quite vile words at each other.

when Rose finally looked away from his son’s face and over to Nessa who stood behind Raihan in the doorway, it was like everything nasty and mean dissipated off his face. She never really liked the man for some unknown reason, now she understood why her gut always clenched when he was near. 

“Good morning, miss Nessa!” Rose cooed and it took all of Nessa’s model strength in not puking on the spot. “Sorry you had to me son and I have an... argument.” 

“I’m not divorcing them.” Raihan suddenly spat. eyes narrowed to slits as he damn near hissed at Rose when the chairman tried round the side of the conference table. 

“Now son,” Rose tried to reprehend Raihan. 

“I’ve never been your son!” Raihan shouted back. shoulder raised defensively. uncaring as Nessa and Leon shrunk from just how loud his voice echoed in the room. “Let me remind you, since your old man brain must be fucking melting in your thick ass skull, that you called Leon,” the Champion yipped a little when Raihan flung a hand out at him and slid even more into his seat, looking like a Yamper who was to fat and got stuck in one of those doggy Pokemon tunnels, “your son you never knew you had and always wanted on live television in front of me! Your actual fucking son! what do you have to say to that!?” 

“Not now Raihan!” Rose hissed, looking for once like a Deerling caught in headlights as he spotted Melody and Gordie who now stood besides Nessa behind Raihan, “we’ll speak more in my office.” 

“‘well speak more in my office.’,” Raihan mocked in a high pitch voice that was supposed to be Rose’s, “about what? you wanting me to divorce my Husband for a fucking arranged marriage you just now sprung onto me!? After you ignored me for most of my life after my mom died.” He snarled. 

“Riahan!” Rose yelled, “now is not the time or place to discuss this!” 

“It never is with you!” Raihan screamed back, slamming his hands onto the table,”there never a good time and every time there is you ignore my texts and calls. you used my wedding invitation as a coaster for your glass of fucking water! you mocked anyone who I brought home and now you’re interested in my love life!? get bent and I hope Eturnatus kills you before you can enact Darkest Day!” 

“How do you know about that!?” Oleana finally spoke up. shooting up from her seat with a wild panic look. 

“Eturnatus was my moms research after all,” Raihan sneered down at the blond woman, “her paperwork says it all, along with the diary you,” he pointed to Rose, “wrote in talking about your plan and how Mom responded that it was unethical and absolutely horrid to do to any kind of Pokemon, alien or not.” 

Rose’s face looks absolutely disgusted in rage. “Give me that book boy!” he threatened. 

“I burned it!” Raihan’s eyes now shone gleefully at Rose’s horror, “along with every other piece of paper with the world Eturnatus written on it and with that fact now out in the air. I quite.” 

with that Raihan stormed past the three gym leaders behind him and  and almost knocked into Bede and Allister. his loud footsteps echoing down the hall before Melony swirled back around and glared at rose with fire in her eyes. 

“Spill. Everything. Now.” Melony snarled. 

Nessa’s head was spinning as she slumped into a nearby chair as Melony started to tear into Rose while all the other Gym leaders arrived. she only moved and got up when Piers nudged her and nodded to Bea and Allister who were looking afraid and skittish with all the yelling from the adults. outside was more quite then inside that meting room and Nessa forced herself to go treat the two kids to a milkshake and some lunch. 

———

the First time Nessa saw Raihans husband was after Eturnatus broke free from it’s supposed egg shell. Ash was his name and he was gorgeous, standing by Raihan’s side. tall and strong as he glared down at Rose and Oleana as they were escorted away. 

Leon was being checked over by Champion Lance and Professor Magnolia. he leaned more into the older Champions side and weep in happy tears after the police drove those wretched people away.

she was by Sonia’s side, who was checking up on the kid gym leaders, byt she couldn’t help but keep glancing at Ash and Raihan. Watching them converse and move together like their one. 

they look down right deadly together, was the only thought on Nessa’s mind before she shoved Ash and Raihan out of her mind complete and turned back to Sonia and the kids. 

#wolfy writes #ash ketchum #gym leader raihan #fangshipping #gym leader melony #gym leader gordie #gym leader piers #gym leader allister #gym leader bea #gym leader nessa #professor magnolia #professor sonia #rose #oleana #champion leon #champion lance #idk why i wrote this #i was feeling things

[mattzerella-sticks]

Stubborn, Coda to 15x03 “The Rapture”

Sam finds Dean after causing the rupture in his and Cas's relationship, trying to heal the wound with a familiar potion. When Dean can't answer a very easy answer, tensions finally boil over and Sam says a few things that Dean needs to hear. Needed to hear for years. Surprising how it takes only one domino to fall for an entire structure to collapse.

Sam softly closes his bedroom door, wincing as the hinges squeak. Echoing in the too empty hallway. Once he hears the small click of his lock Sam steps away. Then he shuffles down towards the kitchen. Each step brings with it a small jolt of cold as his bare feet connect with the tile. He welcomes the distraction as it pushes the more troubling thoughts from the front of his mind.

His path would lead him to the kitchen, if he kept on course. Seeing as the day’s theme is the opposite of that, Sam finds himself following the clattering sounds of the alcohol decanters and his brother’s growling in the War Room.

Dean sits hunched over the glow of the world map. Arms splayed across the surface, one traveling up the length of South America where his pinkie finger gently rubs against Middle America. The other hand clutches to the glass of half-drunk whiskey floating in the Pacific.

Sighing, Sam moves closer. The mutterings he could barely hear earlier become full sentences, a familiar name popping up every few words. He clears his throat. Announcing his presence before Dean could say anything he might regret. That he wasn’t ready for.

His brother tenses, head turning to where Sam entered. Glassy, bloodshot eyes swim in a sea of liquor as they try to focus on him. When the flash of recognition dimly lights up his gaze, the frown smeared across Dean’s face lightens into a harsh line. “What’re y’doin up?”

Great. Slurring means Dean drank enough to kill a horse. The empty row of containers scattered across the map provides enough evidence for his theory.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sam says, “Figured I’d make some coffee… what about you?”

Dean rolls his eyes, lazily saluting with his glass. Whiskey sloshing inside. “Drinkin’.”

“I can see that.”

“Good f’you…”

Sam leans on one of the chairs, sour mood curdling further. His brother takes the barbed silence as an end to their conversation, sipping at his drink and laying his head across the map again without care.

Not ready to leave yet, Sam searches for something to say. Looks in every corner of the War Room, past the archways and into every shadow. The overwhelming absence needles him. “Where’s Cas?”

Scoffing, Dean tucks himself further into his arm.

Sam repeats himself. “Where’s Cas?” Then he scrapes the chair across the floor. Dean stiffens into a seated position, posture straight and face wrenched in pain.

He glares at him, “What was that for?”

“Where’s… Cas ?”

“Why you wanna know, huh?” Dean asks instead, shifting awkwardly. Wobbling to and fro in his seat. “You think you mean that much to him? I got news Sam - you don’t . None of us do.” He empties his glass, slamming it onto the map. “Where’s Cas?” he mocks, snarling, “Who cares - how’s that for an answer?”

Sam’s lips twisted in disgust at the sheer ugliness marring his brother’s features. Gone was the smooth mask of professionalism. With nothing weighing on his shoulders, all the hurt and pain from days ago could swim to surface and take their wretched breaths.

“I care, Dean,” Sam starts, “and so do you -”

Dean scoffs. “I care… maybe once, maybe…” He swallows roughly, gaze darting to his lap. “I don’t anymore. S’all that matters. Cas could go off himself in some stupid way or,” the next part comes out rough, dragged through his clenched teeth. “Or give up this whole rotten business and settle down with some pretty young thing. He made it perfectly clear where the line’s drawn… Us on one side, him on the other.”

Sam glares, Dean’s tantrum eating at his already frayed nerves. “What did you say to him?”

“ Me ?” he splutters, “Why’re you sticking up for that little punk , huh? What’s he ever done for us?”

“What’s he ever - Dean . Do you even hear yourself?” His grip on the chair tightens, the wood biting into his skin. “Cas has given everything to help us. To help you . Sacrificed himself time and time again for the greater good, doing what he thinks right -”

“Yeah, right ,” Dean chuckles darkly, “What he thinks is right . Like smiting the useful demon and forcing Rowena to off herself - he thought that was right .”

Sam sees white. The anger passes, vision sharpening as his teeth press so fiercely against each other they might shatter. “Plans change,” he says, “We didn’t have any other choice -”

Dean rushes to his feet, chair clamoring as it falls backwards. Every muscle wired and ready to pounce, sobriety hemming the steely green of his iris. “Because he didn’t give us a choice, Sammy. He went AWOL and did this to us. Every damn time something goes wrong Cas is there, red-fucking-handed.”

Shocked, Sam distances himself from the brother he barely knows. Anger possessing him like a demented spirit. “If you really think that,” he says, “then it’s your fault. You taught him about free will, about how to make choices. Even if they’re the tough ones, like today’s.”

“Well that was a fucking mistake,” he says with no hesitation. “ He’s a mistake. A lost cause. A - what did he call Bel-bel-bel-whatever? Abomination? Sure let’s go with that.”

“Dean, he’s your best friend -”

“He’s not my -” Dean teeters, so close to falling over. Sam reaches out, ready to catch him. His brother shakes off the stupor and bats Sam’s hand away. More tentative than last time, Dean continues, “Wasn’t my best friend… not for a long time… he was - and now he’s not really…” Nose scrunching in confusion, Dean wipes at his teary eyes and growls. “It doesn’t matter anymore Sam! He never mattered, never cared . Castiel is an angel, and like every other feathery bastard like him all he did was interfere .”

Vein throbbing, Sam sucks a deep breath low into his gut to try and smother the rising flames of his temper. They only fan it. The fire rages across his conscious and turns any remaining patience inside to ash. “I’m fucking tired of this, Dean.”

“So am I. Finally something we can agree on.”

“No, I’m tired of you ,” Sam says, startling Dean. “I’m tired of this .”

“Oh, so you’re gonna move on from me too, Sam?” Dean asks, fear visibly paling his expression. “Leave like Cas, like Chuck -”

“Enough!” Sam roars, “Stop pushing all of your problems onto other people! I’m not Chuck, Cas isn’t Chuck. We actually fucking care about you. The sooner you stop taking your anger out on us - on him - the better all our lives will be.”

“But I am angry with Cas,” Dean argues still, “Sam, Cas he - he let mom die -”

“Yes, mom died,” he says, “Mom died. Jack died. Ketch died, and too many innocent people died… Rowena died, Dean.” Sam stutters a shaky sigh, heart clenching. “I had to kill someone I was getting so close… someone I loved and could see myself loving for a long time. She followed the plan Billie set out perfectly for us, and look how it turned out. Another woman I loved who ended up dead at my hands .”

Dean stares with precise focus at the ground, unable to meet Sam’s gaze. He carries on. “Rowena and me though… we didn’t get a choice. At least there’s some comfort in that, knowing she went out saving the world. Giving other people the chance to decide how they’ll spend their next day. But if you expect me to throw you a fucking pity party for pushing Cas away then you’re skunked. No one held a gun to your head and forced you to hold this ridiculous grudge against him, you pushed away someone you loved all on your own.”

Flustered, Dean meeks out a response. “I didn’t lo… I didn’t… Cas left on his own -”

“Cas left because you gave him no choice,” Sam tells him. “You took away any option he had and when he could only do what was left you blamed him for it. Would you blame the car in front of you for traffic if it was construction’s fault for blocking out the other lanes? No! Then why Cas?”

Sam answers for Dean. “Because you figured Cas would stay. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this but it’s the first time Cas called you on your bluff.”

Dean holds his ground. “There is no bluff -”

“Don’t,” he warns, “Do not… you can lie to everyone, lie to Cas - hell, lie to yourself. But don’t look me in the eye and tell me it isn’t exactly what we both know it is.”

His brother opens his mouth as if to speak, only to snap it shut with enough force to bite the head off a snake.

“You never learn… you lash out at the easiest targets. Probably thought you could get away with it because it was Cas. Cas never leaves you, Cas is always there. Cas will come back - even if it shouldn’t be possible. You had so many chances,” Sam’s voice breaks, a tear slipping free. “And you wasted each one. This isn’t on Cas, man. It’s on you. You’re the reason your world’s falling apart. You’re Chuck. And if you keep on acting this way you’ll end up just like him… miserable, depressed, and alone.”

No more steam left in his engine Sam spins on his heel. Coffee forgotten, he stomps towards his room without glancing back. Not when Dean calls for him, demands he stay. Nor when curses echo in the Bunker’s halls, followed by the smashing of glass against stone.

Sam keeps moving forward, hoping Dean will see the light soon and follow.

He needs to, because with Cas gone there’s one less star brightening his darkness.

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn15 #15x03 #The Rupture #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Samwena #Destiel #Deancas #Castiel #Rowena MacLeod #Supernatural fanfiction #Spn fanfic #spn coda

[yourdreamscenarios]

When you fall and hurt yourself

∙ Requested ♡ ∙ Word count:

∙ Jin

“I’m done, if this is how it’s going to be I’ll just stick to where we’re living right now.” Seokjin complained, sitting down on top of one of the brown boxes piled up in the room which was supposed to become the living room. You raised your eyebrows at him, mainly because he was being dramatic, secondly because the box he’d just sat down his butt on clearly read breakable on the side. “It’s just a one time thing. As soon as we got all the boxes inside the worst part is over.” You reminded him while rolling up the sleeves of your shirt towards your elbows. Seokjin had immediately turned up the heating as the two of you had put food inside of the house, and by now you were both sweating. It was one thing to run up and down from the car towards the house and back, but it was something else to do so with heavy boxes in your hold. But you’d been delaying this for too long now. And since you both had a few days to spare in your schedule, it seemed the perfect timing to finally get into moving out. 

All your friends thought it crazy that you’d bought a house almost two months ago but the two of you hadn’t even started moving out of your separate places until two weeks ago. But they didn’t seem to understand there was nothing as depressing as moving your stuff into a huge home while your significant other wasn’t there to help you along with it. You’d bought this house so you could spend more time together, see each other more often, not to fall back into old habits. “You’re lying. You realize we still have to unpack all this later, right? That’s going to be the hard work. Since you’re never pleased with where I put things. Which I still don’t understand. That zebra would have fit greatly next to our lamp.” You pulled a face as him, thinking back of the time the two of you had gone furniture shopping together and he had tried everything inside of him to convince you to buy a huge zebra statue. The fact that it had been a zebra wasn’t the problem. It had been it’s flashy pink color which had bothered you. Thinking about Seokjin decorating even one room in the house caused your heart to speed up. 

“I could ask my mom for help, she’d love to.” You recalled, thinking of the offer she had made you last week. Your father was out on a business trip and she was at home by herself, staring at the walls. Usually you didn’t want her all over your things, but in this case it might actually be convenient. You could tell he found the idea quite appealing, sitting there on his box. You rolled your eyes at him before turning your back on him and marching mack towards the front door. “Take your time, I’ll get another box.” You called over your shoulder as you made your way through the door and down the porch steps. You’d known a long time before you bought the house that this was a place you where wanted to live. It was a nice neighborhood and since Seokjin was so popular, you couldn’t just pick any place to live. He needed a secured area, somewhere he felt at ease bringing his kids home to one day. To him, the style hadn’t really mattered, he just wanted something safe and private. So he’d left that up to you. And you loved every single detail of this house. It was big, but not too huge. 

It had enough room to invite friends over, but not enough to brag about it being a villa. You loved the huge windows, letting sunlight rest against the walls throughout the entire house. The garden was fresh and cosy, a small pool attached to it. You’d never asked for the luxury you had today, but Seokjin insisted that he’d use his fortunes for your future and so you accepted anyway. As an author you had your own money. Your books sold well, the last one making it into the YA top thee for a whole year. You could live on this for the rest of your life, but you’d never been a person to put it on display. You put your money in more discreet things, like charity and buying nice things for your parents and sister. You didn’t have the amount of money Seokjin had, but nothing about that mattered. It was nice to be able to love someone for who they were, without thinking of what they had. Stopping in front of the trunk of a small van you’d hired for the day, you looked at the small stacks of boxed that were left. The two of you had moved many of them over the timespan of two hours. If you kept moving like this you’d be done by tonight and still have time to order some takeout. 

Pressing one knee into the trunk you tried your best to reach for one of the boxes in the back. At least you’d get a good night of sleep tonight. You weren’t the type to work out and you were sure your muscles were going to be sore tomorrow. But it would be worth it, knowing you’d finally be able to move in with the man you wanted to spend your future with. You’d both still be busy, but there’d be a much bigger chance you’d wake up or get to fall asleep beside him once you’d live together. It were those tiny things you missed when he was not around. And the thought you’d have to miss those no longer made your heart race. Slowly you tugged the box out of the trunk and positioned it inside of your arms. Just like the others it was quite heavy. You had packed as many things inside of each box as possible, hoping you’d be done faster if there would be less boxes to carry. But you were damned either way. Dragging yourself towards the porch you stared at the children near the end of the street, playing football. They seemed careless, their laughter ringing through the air causing your spirit to grow wings and be lifted. 

You had definitely made the right choice choosing this house. You scared up when you heard the sound of your phone coming from your jeans pocket at the same time your sneaker lost its grip on the concrete. Screeching you felt the ground slip from underneath your feet, and hobbled down two steps before your butt landed on the sidewalk. “Fuck.” You groaned, inwardly hoping the children were too far away to hear you curse. While trying to wrap your mind around what just happened you pushed yourself up until you were sitting on the first landing of stairs. At least there hadn’t been anyone close enough to witness your failure. Sighing in frustration you pulled down the waistband of your jeans, where pain was throbbing at your hip. A bruise was forming around the skin, probably the spot which had come down first and had caught the blow. “I’m so sorry! I swear I had no idea you’d fall!” Seokjin’s voices reached from behind you and before you had the time to turn your head and look at him, he came racing around you and kneeled down in front of you. “Are you hurt?” He asked, panic visible inside of his eyes as he held his hands in front of him, wanting to touch you but not sure if he was allowed to do so. “I think so, I guess the box broke the worst part of the fall.” You said, wincing as you tried to push yourself up to stand. A stabbing pain exploded from your hip and forced you to lower yourself back onto the cold stone. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have texted you, it’s ridiculous. I could’ve just waited until you got back inside.” He rambled, and you blinked your eyes at him in surprise as you tried to understand what he’d just told you. When you realized you couldn’t, you blurted “What?” Guilt pooled inside of his dark irises as he stared at the spot you were clenching your side. He nibbled his bottom lip, his eyes darting back and fort as he tried to think of what to do. “We need to get you to the hospital. They need to check up on you.” He said, patting his pockets until he found the keys of the car. As much as you wanted to deny his words, you knew he was right. You needed a doctor to check on your hip. So it seemed like you’d have to put aside your distaste of hospitals for once. “Can you walk?” He asked, running over towards the van to open the door. 

Clenching your teeth together you pressed yourself up from the floor, a wash of relief coming over you when you realized your hip wasn’t as painful anymore as it was before. Perhaps it would all be fine after all. Seokjin wrapped his arm around your middle and tugged yours across his shoulders before he wobbled you towards the passenger seat. A bit further ahead the children had stopped kicked the ball and were staring at the scene the two of you had made. You were sure that by tonight the neighbors would all have figured out their first impressions of you two. “Wait, what did you text me about?” You suddenly remembered, and as you turned to look at him you could tell he was avoiding your stare on purpose. His cheeks turned pinkish as he settled you down against the seat and leaned over you to fasten your seatbelt. His lips were only inches away from yours as he spoke. “I found that zebra online, it was on sale.”

 ∙ RM 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t like you. I never wanted to hurt you, but I think it’s best if you stop trying to reach out for me.” The pity inside of his voice caused your feet to remain glued to the floor, no matter how hard you wanted to run. You blinked your eyes at him, wishing the tears wouldn’t come. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of him. You told yourself he didn’t deserve any of your tears. Yet, that wasn’t what your heart felt. You’d liked this guy for years, had thought of only him for months straight. You couldn’t imagine your life without him being a part of it. For all this time, you had been foolish enough to think that a guy like him could like someone like you. You watched the way he turned around, planning on leaving you all alone in the middle of the hallway. You should be pleased there weren’t any people around, any of the other students who could watch you being rejected by Park Jimin. This moment would be meant for just the two of you, and you hoped he would respect that instead of laughing about it later with his friends. A deep part inside of you had been afraid this would happen. 

There were so many girls who adored him, you had no idea why you’d thought for even a minute that you would have a chance with him. Still, you’d tried to prove your love for him for weeks, sending him secret notes and leaving him letters in his locker. You’d watched him read your messages with a little smile on his face. You knew he’d secretly enjoyed reading them. You’d thought they’d started meaning something to him, that he’d started looking forward to them after all this time. Yet, it didn’t seem to be enough. He’d probably expected his secret admirer to be someone else, someone prettier and more like him. Because unlike him you weren’t a part of any large groups at school, you didn’t particularly enjoy going out at night and getting drunk. You didn’t put layers and layers of make up on your face to hide your flaws, you didn’t pretend to be anyone you were not. Even though you were different, you’d always stayed true to yourself. In your mind you had always thought that if Jimin would give you a chance and would try to get to know you, he would realize the two of you would fit well together. But it had finally become clear to you that you would never figure it out. The dream which had been developing in your own head for weeks was just unraveling before your eyes. 

You lingered down the hall for a while, not knowing where to go. You wanted some peaceful place to crawl up and cry, but there was no way you could ditch classes. If your parents would find out you’d walked out on your duties while you were supposed to be at school, no matter what he reason, you’d be grounded for weeks. And the thought of being stuck in the house right now threatened to suffocate you. “Idiot.” You whispered, inwardly calling yourself worse names but not wanting to get caught saying them out loud. The halls were deserted, but it wouldn’t take much longer before the bell would ring and students would start dripping out of their classrooms. And you definitely wanted to get out of here before anyone would see you in the current state you were in. The last thing you needed were any rumors, and for things to spread. Turning on your heel you speed walked further down the corridor, walking past shut lockers in an ocean of blue. You deliberately turned your head the other way when you walked past Jimin’s locker, the one you’d been deposing your feelings into for the past few weeks. 

You felt like a fool and you knew you were one. And once again that awful part of your mind started wondering about who he’d wished his admirer had been. Had it been that beautiful girl from art class? Or that rock chick who sat two rows in front of him at science? You guessed you’d never find out. And perhaps it was better that way, so you didn’t have anyone to blame but yourself. The loud screeching of the bell rang inside of your ears and/or heart did a double one inside of your chest as you sped up. A door crashed against a wall down the hall, chatter filled the air and you knew you just wouldn’t be able to handle it. Before anyone could spot you, you raced through the huge doors, and stumbled into the afternoon air. The cold hit you straight in the gut and before you even realized what happened you could feel your feet trip. And there for a minute, you seemed to be floating into the air, as if like drifting on a cloud. Time was standing still in that moment, and for a minute the world stopped turning. Yet, soon that cloud was replaced by the hard grind pressing into the palms of your hands and scratching throughout the material of your jeans. You wheezed, feeling the sting of damaged skin travel down your nerve system. 

Tears welled up inside of your eyes and you blinked rapidly to force them back. You knew that you needed to get up, before anyone would notice you laying on the ground. Not only would they find out you’d fallen, but someone would figure out you were supposed to be in class and would surely tell a teacher. But something caused to to stay limp, either it was your self pity or your pain. “Are you alright?” The voice broke through the noise inside of your head, and a blurred face appeared through the mist of your tears. You tried to remember if you’d ever heard that voice before, but you could barely summon it. Demanding your tears away you stared up inside of the worried gaze of Kim Namjoon. Shame slipped through you because you hadn’t recognized him by the sound of his voice, even though you had always loved the sound of his voice in your English class. He was one of the students who’s speech project you liked the most and he always kept your attention. Though it wasn’t like you really knew him. Namjoon was known to be a bit of an outsider. He never stuck around after class to talk with his friends, and during free moments he could be found spending his time in the library, surrounded by books. 

And just like everyone else you’d never really put much effort into getting to know him, simply because you’d thought that he didn’t have the need to do so. But those were simply your interpretations. “I think so.” You mumbled, feeling embarrassed because he’d seen you fall. Yet, there wasn’t a single sign in his expression which seemed to be making fun of you. Instead, there seemed to be actual concern inside of his eyes and you could somehow feel your heart quiver inside of your chest because of it. “That was a nasty fall you took there.” He reminded you, but once again there was no cruelty inside of his voice, he said it as if he was simply stating a fact. Your cheeks reddened as you watched him extend his hand to you, waiting for you to take it. Letting a breath slip past your lips you accepted his gesture and laid your fingers inside of his. With a strength you hadn’t expected to come from him he tugged you upright until you were standing a few feet in front of him. He shot you a tiny smile before taking a step back and granting you your space and releasing your hand. You were surprised when a warmth you hadn’t known you’d felt disappeared together with his touch. “Let’s check out your hands.” He suggested and you turned your palms upwards to check upon the damage. 

Small pieces of gravel were stuck against your skin and small droplets of blood tracked your wounds. You’d have to explain what had happened once you got home. “It’s fine, they’ll probably heal fast enough.” You tried, not wanting to bother him. Yet, he ignored you as he ran over to a bench he’d apparently been sitting on all this time and went to fetch his bag pack. As he made his way back to you, he grabbed a bottle of water he’d been keeping inside of it. You watched him in silent gratefulness as he gently held you by the wrists and rinsed your hands with his water one by one, erasing the dirt from them. The wetness stung, but you ignored it as you looked at his face while he focussed on your hands. You had no idea why he was being so nice to you, to a person who’d never bothered being nice to him in return. But he just did what he thought was right, no matter who you were. A certain admiration for him blossomed inside of your chest, for this stranger you’d never spoken to before. “You’re in my English class.” You said, simply to say something. You probably sounded like an idiot, but he still smiled never the less as he fixed his gaze on yours. 

“So are you.” His reply caused the corners of your lips to curl upwards as he reached for a paper tissue inside of his bag and used it to carefully pat your palms. A cloud shifted above you and a ray of sunlight fell down around you, lighting up the world that seemed to have gone grey to you a few minutes ago. You couldn’t believe that you’d waisted your time falling for someone who never would have done this for you if he’d been the one seeing you tumble down the stairs. “My name is ______________.” You introduced yourself, feeling like that was the right thing to do. He released your hands, pleased with his work as he put the leftover tissues back inside of his bag. He swung the strap casually over his shoulder before he turned towards you, his face open and friendly as he smiled. “I’m Namjoon.” He said and you blinked in surprise as he bumped his elbow against yours as if it was a normal thing to do. He stared at your stunned expression and chuckled, a low and songlike sound. “Doesn’t seem like the best time for a handshake. But never the less, it’s nice to meet you.” You ignored the drill of students flowing past you as another bell cracked up around you, signaling the school day was over. You just stood there, perfectly content inside of an ocean of people, staring inside of the most gentle eyes you’d seen in a long time. 

∙ J Hope

“You’ll do great. You practiced all week.” He assured you, waving his hand in front of your face to comb a piece of hair away from your eyes and behind your ear. You shot him a shy smile as his fingers lingered a few seconds against your skull before they retreated. Hoseok had been the perfect man all week, surrounding you with positivity and motivating you to keep going until the very end. Promotions had been a mess this time around, and now that everything was finally coming up to the finale, you were a giant ball of stress. No matter how hard you had practiced your vocals and your choreography, you were simply afraid one of you was going to mess it up. And that someone didn’t necessarily have to be you. You’d been a part of a band for two years now, but these trust issues seemed to be something you simply couldn’t get rid of. Thankfully your members had never blamed you for it, and they accepted the fact you were someone who pushed them to work harder than they might think possible. Besides, you were harder on yourself than you were on anyone else. 

“Thanks for helping me out though. I couldn’t have done this without you.” You said, scrolling through the conversation on your phone you were having with your local friends from home. Everyone seemed to be talking about this comeback, which didn’t seem to make it any easier. You had been slaying your last project and people seemed to expect no less form these promotions. Once again you had tried a completely new concept, forcing yourself to try new things and dig for a different and new part of yourselves. Hoseok kept trying to convince you that your company was supposed to let you stay true to yourselves and figure out your own style and flow. But you’d more than once explained to him that after only two years of being a band, you all didn’t have a clue about what that style or flow was. So for now, experimenting seemed to be the right thing to do until you could stuck to the thing you felt most comfortable with. “Sure, you’d do the same thing for me. Besides, it was fun to see you sweat.” He grinned, and you pulled a face at him as you thought back of all the times he had been practically torturing you in the practice room. 

Hoseok was one of the best dancers you knew and you wouldn’t want to accept advice from anyone else but him. He’d helped you to make every move as perfect as possible, correcting you each time he thought you could do better. Days had been long, for you and for him. Especially since he’d made time to help you out after his own schedules. Two nights ago the two of you had fallen asleep at Big Hit’s practice rooms, until Seokjin had walked in and had woken you both up with his cheerful morning greetings. So you guessed you were both quite pleased this was about to come to an end, even though none of you said it out loud. “I think they’re ready for us.” Lily muttered inside of your ear, her hands landing on top of your shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. She smiled casually as Hoseok, who gave her a polite nod. Your band members kindly accepted your boyfriend’s presence around stages and practices, knowing that once they’d start dating someone they expected you to do the same. And you had to say you often enjoyed having him around, yet you still didn’t want it to become a habit. The two of you saw each other when you had mutual schedules, but you rarely invited him over when the two of you didn’t have a stage together. Mainly because he simply didn’t have the time to show and had his own stuff to deal with. Secondly because you didn’t want to mix your career with your love life. And it seemed as if the two of you had come to an unspoken agreement about that. 

Hoseok patted your thigh, ignoring the face you threw him in the process. Your thighs were body parts you were insecure about, and he knew this all too well. Somehow he’d gotten the idea that if he showed them enough love you’d eventually accept them as a part of yourself you should honor. There was still quite some work to be done before such a thing could be achieved. “Good luck, I’ll see you when you’re done.” He said, groaning as he pushed himself up from his seat beside you on the coach and swiped away the imaginary dust from his trousers. “You don’t have to wait here, you could just go home. I’ll be fine.” You assured him, not wanting him to sit here and wait out the entire process of performing, filming, cutting and do-overs. He deserved his rest, especially after everything he had done for you. You didn’t want to keep him away from home longer than necessary. But he just shrugged and instead of heading towards the exit in search for a quiet place to sit or where perhaps he could find a few of his friends to hang out with. You sighed, but smiled never the less. Hoseok always did his own thing, you could never force him into certain directions. He had such a headstrong person, you kind of admired him for it. 

“Let’s go, I’m so excited!” Hanna squealed, clapping her hands together as to prove her point. You followed them out into the hallway, once again checking your ear ins and your mic. Everything was set, everything was on point, now you only had to make this work. You all huddled together, sharing some enthusiastic last pep talk with each other before you got your cues and gathered in front of the stairs, getting ready to run up stage. A deep voice announced you and you knew you had to get up on that stage quickly if you wanted to get into the right position. The lights went out and you members quickly started moving up the steps in front of you, giving you no choice but to follow. But the space was cramped and before you knew what had happened, you misstepped, your feet missing a landing. A strangled noise came over your lips as you caught yourself with your hands, a terrible sting traveling up the entire length of your arm. “Are you okay?” Hanna asked, standing behind you, waiting for you to get up. You nodded, forcing a smile onto your face as you blinked away your tears. You cradled your wrist against your chest, and looked back to see Hoseok standing a few feet away, one foot in front of the other, as if he was at the point of running over to check on you. 

But you shot him a reassuring smile, which seemed to settle things for now as you continued up the stairs and took your place upon the stage. At first it was a weird tingling sensation creeping through your arm, but it soon changed into some kind of pinching, which worsened and took your breath away when you tried to move your wrist. You felt lightheaded as you held your mic inside of your hand, forcing your fingers to close around it. The performance went by terribly slow, yet you seemed to be in some sort of daze the entire time. There was only one thing you could seem to focus on and that was the pain you felt. You knew something was wrong, and one look down at the joint made all the blood drain from your face. It was all bruised and thick. The choreography was far from perfect, mainly because of the mistakes you made. The hours and hours of practice for nothing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. As soon as the lights went out you sped backstage, wanting to get away as quickly as you could. Tears were clouding your view, conjured by disappointment and hurt. “What the hell was that?” Jennifer seethed, trying to reach out for you by grabbing your shoulder and stopping you as soon as all of you were at the back. But before you could say anything Hoseok had suddenly appeared in front of you, suspicion written all over his face. 

“What is it?” He asked, knowing better than anyone, that if you’d been in your right state of mind, this never would have happened. He was there, spending all of those hours with you in the practice rooms. He knew how hard you had worked, knew how nervous you had been. Your bottom lip was actually trembling as you held up your arm, and instantly a staff member came in helpful by pointing his flashlight at it. Some people gasped, and you could see Jennifer press her hand against her chest in shock as she stared at your wrist. “God that looks terrible.” She said, pulling a face at it. All of a sudden everyone was trying to give you some kind of advice. “Put some ice on it.” “Don’t let it hang down your side, it’ll only swell more.” “You should have said something!” But in the end it was your boyfriend who wrapped his arm around your shoulders and who let you away from all the commotion. He steered you down the halls, leading you towards a small room where you knew the paramedics were. There were always a few of them backstage, just in case something did happen. 

“Was it when you fell?” He asked as he got you inside, two women and one man immediately all ears as they gently placed you on a chair and gingerly tried to take a look at your wrist. You nodded, trying to flex and bend your fingers like one of the women instructed you to do. “I caught myself, I felt it straight away, but I didn’t think it was this bad. It was only midway through the performance the pain got this bad.” You explained, trying not to take the judgement in Hoseok’s face too personal. You knew he’d understand as soon as he was over his concern for you. After all, he had seen his band members do the exact same thing, and he had done the same thing as well. It was a part of the job, pushing yourself, even though you knew you shouldn’t. “Alright honey, I’m going to give you some painkiller alright. Now, I don’t think it’s broken, just sprained. But just to be sure we should get you up to the hospital to take some x-rays. We don’t want to miss anything here.” She explained, reaching behind her before putting two round pills inside of your uninjured palm. She smiled kindly at you while presenting you a glass of water. 

You thanked her and swallowed the pills down, hoping they’d lessen the throwing of your arm soon. You hadn’t eaten much before the performance due to stress, and you could feel your head swaying. “I’ll take you.” Hoseok assured you and you nodded, using his help to get up from your chair. He carefully placed your jacket over your shoulders before wrapping his arm tightly around you, pulling you close. If you had been glad that he’d been here before, it was nothing compared to how you felt now. “I’m sorry, this is such a mess.” You muttered, heaving a deep sigh as the two of you made your way towards the exit and his car. He waved your apology away and shot you a sweet smile, trying to make you feel better. “It’s all going to be fine. You’ll be better soon.” He tried to reassure you and brushed his lips past your temple. He opened the passenger door for you and carefully helped you get inside of the car. You were flustered as he reached down to help you fastened your seatbelt, but he ignored you when you told him you’d be fine by yourself. As soon as you were clicked in safely he patted your thigh, causing you to frown at him. “It’s a good thing I didn’t go home after all.” He joked and you swatted at him with your good hand. He was just in time to get out of the way, snickering softly. 

∙ Suga

Coming soon

∙ Jimin

Coming soon

∙ V

Coming soon

∙ Jungkook

You moaned contently as you rolled over in bed, feeling the way you got tangled up inside of the covers. You had slept in shamefully long, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. The past few weeks, your schedule had been packed and you had been rushing from one point towards the other. Sleep had been a luxury and you thought you had deserved a nice and long night in bed now that you finally had a day off. You pressed your face deeply inside of the soft pillow, realizing that you had rolled over towards your boyfriend’s side of the bed as you smelled his cologne all of the sheets. It was a sad fact that he wasn’t here with you right now. But unfortunately, as you worked for different companies, it was almost impossible for the two of you to match your free days to each other. And so you had vaguely heard him get out of bed early this morning, had softly felt his lips press down at the side of your head, before he had gotten up and left the mattress to turn cold beside you. As a girl, you had been used to having a queen size bed at your parent’s place. So a very small part of you was secretly glad to have this much space again. 

But it was nothing compared to the part of you which was missing your boyfriend. A battle went on inside of your head as you wondered if you should get up and get some stuff done, or if you’d stay in bed just a little bit longer. As you sneakily opened one eye you stared straight at the alarm clock which stood on your nightstand. Your heart leaped slightly inside of your chest when you saw it was almost noon. Talking about sleeping in. Instantly you were wide awake, feeling sheepish because you you hadn’t taken better control over the situation. But you’d been exhausted, and the sleep had done a great job on your mental and physical state. Last night you had felt droopy and forgetful. Your body had ached at places you hadn’t known been possible. You’d been having mood swings which were out of your control and headaches had become your best friend. Today, you felt as if you had become an entirely different person. Your muscles had popped back into the right place, your head felt clear and light. You felt better than you had done in weeks. So you decided not to feel bad about sleeping this long, and decided that this was simply something your body had been in terrible need of. 

After stretching your arms above of your head, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position. You had messed up the sheets, one side kicked off of the bed completely. You pouted, wondering how you’d been able to do such a thing without waking up before you flipped your legs out of the bed and got up. Reaching for the curtains you tugged them open, being greeted by wonderful rays of sunlight. You smiled, thinking about all the things you could do today with a weather this nice. Perhaps you could go grocery shopping, fill up your fridge which was currently stored with leftovers. Jungkook would probably like a freshly prepared and healthy meal tonight. Turning on your heel you went back towards the bed, tugging the blankets straight and tugging them in at the sides. As soon as that was done you marched over towards the bathroom, to freshen up. You took a quick shower and got into some comfy clothes before gathering your hair together on top of your head into a ponytail. It was a typical ‘stay at home look but still be able to get out of the door to do something practical and be seen by paparazzi’ kind of look. You applied some lipgloss and took one look into the mirror before you decided you didn’t really care about how you looked and you flicked off the lights after collecting the laundry. 

Muttering a song that magically popped inside of your mind you snapped your phone from your nightstand and walked out of the room. Propping the laundry basket underneath your arm you scrolled through your notifications, deciding which ones needed immediate attention and which ones could wait until later. You had a text from one of your band members, telling you that one of your photoshoots had been rescheduled for next week. You quickly switched the dates in your agenda, knowing you’d never be able to remember otherwise. There was a text from your mom, asking if you wanted some left over soup and she could bring it downtown for you if you wanted. And then there was one from Jungkook, asking to call him once you woke up. You frowned as you made your way down the hall towards the stairs. Had something happened? You checked the time, and saw he’d sent you this text almost two hours ago. He probably hadn’t expected for you to sleep in this long. You’d definitely have some explaining to do. Curiosity took master of you, and you knew you’d have to call him back as soon as possible. Perhaps he had something important to tell you? Maybe something had happened? Or maybe…

Your stream of thought was instantly cut off when your feet hung in open air, missing the step of the stairs it was supposed to take. You shrieked, lost your balance and before you knew what was happening you were tumbling down the stairs. The laundry flew everywhere and when you came to a sudden halt at the bottom on the stairs you realized you had been clamming your phone inside of your hands like crazy, holding onto it for dear life. Shock was the first thing that came over you as you tried to take in what had happened. Your heart was beating like crazy inside of your chest, your hands trembling. You had never fallen down the stairs before. Letting out a deep breath you realized this could have ended up entirely different. If you had fallen down headfirst, this could have been a true disaster, especially with nobody at home to find you here. You sat back and tried to calm yourself by chuckling softly. Of course this was something which had to happen to you. The adrenaline slowly wore off, which was when you began to feel all of the sore spots on your body. 

Twisting your arm you could tell your elbow had scratched against the wall, blood bubbling up from the nasty scratch. The side of your knee was swelling and the skin was transforming into a bruised color. You blinked away the tears inside of your eyes, which were partly caused because of the fright and partly because of the pain. “Stupid. Why would you text while walking down the stairs?” You scolded yourself, trying to push yourself upright. A loud help escaped your lips as soon as you tried to put some pressure on your left foot. Soon, the tears which had been clouding your view were rolling down your cheeks, the pain coming as a complete surprise to you. You quickly rolled down the longs socks you’d been wearing to keep your feet warm and actually gasped when you saw the size of the joint. It looked nothing like it had done before. Instantly hundreds of thought were penetrating your mind. How you had just messed up your schedule by getting injured. How you had abandoned your members by being so careless. You’d have to get to a doctor, but there was no way you could drive like this. 

On autopilot you reached for your phone, dialing the first number popping up on your screen. It rang for an eternity before finally your name sounded on the other side of the line, the voice familiar. “______________!” I’m so glad you called! I wanted to talk to you. Why did it take so long for you to get back to me?” Jungkook’s voice was cheerful, which only added to your guilt of having to call him like this. “Jungkook!” You were barely able to hold back a sob as you said his name, your voice coming out all wry and crackling. Instantly a silence rang at the other side, since he clearly hadn’t been expected a greeting like this. He had expected you to sound happy after a good night of sleep, curious about what he was about to tell you, not as if you were about to burst into tears any second. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice worried as he hushed his members, who were probably there in the room with him and who were tracking the conversation. You tried to slow down your breathing, tried to come up with a plan to get towards the car. You could hobble, you had a good balance, you’d be able to make it on one leg. But there was no way you’d be able to drive using only one foot and just the thought of using your injured one made you feel like throwing up. 

“I fell down the stairs.” You said, feeling stupid. Frustrations were searing through you as you shoveled forward on your butt, hoping to get towards the kitchen so you could at least grab a tissue to press against the scratch on your elbow. The blood was now slowly leaking down your arm, creating a mess on the floor. A snort could be heard next to your ear, and you scowled. You couldn’t believe he thought this way funny. “Did you get hurt?” He asked, laughter clearly audible inside of his voice. Him making fun of you only caused you to feel worse, and your volume got louder as you spoke next time, your words ringing with some sort of panic. “I can’t get up.” You moaned deeply as you bumped your injured feet into the side of the table as you finally managed to get inside of the kitchen. Instantly the laughter stopped, and you could hear him getting up and collect his things. “What do you mean you can’t get up?” He instantly sounded serious and the ringing of car keys was audible now. You leaned against the door, grabbed your leg and tried to breath in and out slowly, dizziness coming over you. “It’s my ankle, I can’t put any pressure on it. And my knee, it’s looking weird.” Once again you started tearing up, feeling miserable and helpless. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I know you’re busy…” 

He immediately silenced you, telling you you shouldn’t apologize, that he was glad you’d called. “I’ll be there as fast as I can. Just stay where you are, I’ll take you to the hospital.” He assured you, and you hung up after saying your goodbye’s. You were such an idiot, always causing trouble like this. How were you supposed to tell your manager that you had been able to get yourself injured on your day off? You bumped your head against the wall once, then decided against it, after all the last thing you needed was a concussion to add to the problem. Instead you waited, focussing your ears on the sound of a car stopping on the driveway. And soon you heard a key getting jammed inside of the lock, the door smashing against the wall at the speed to get it open. “Where are you?” Jungkook’s voice rang through the apartment and you called out, leading him towards the kitchen with the sound of your voice. He speed walked into the room and his eyes immediately fell on you, sitting against the wall, your leg laying out in front of you. He crouched down in front of you, his fingers gingerly reaching out to your swollen knee. 

His face contracted, as if only the sight of it was enough to cause him pain. “What happened?” He asked, looking up into your face in concern, his hands reaching out to wipe the tears from your face. You rolled your eyes at him, a bit of your own self returning now that you were no longer alone and he was here with you. “I was reading your text, missing a step. Before I knew it, I was on the floor.” He made a small ‘ah’ sound, and it was clear that he wanted to tell you off for using your phone instead of watching where you were going. But he said nothing, at least for now. “Let’s get you into the car. You need to let someone check up on that leg.” He said, positioning himself so that he could slip his arms underneath you and lift you from the floor. You sighed, and let your head lull back against his shoulder as he carried you towards the car. “I’m so stupid.” You muttered, feeling your ankle throbbing with every step, your face contorting a little in a hurtful expression. “Yeah…” Jungkook mumbled, but smiled as you glared at him, placing a small peck between your brows. 

∙ BTS Masterlist ♡               ∙ Masterlist ♡

#bts #scenarios #bts scenarios #scenario #fanfic #bts fanfic #masterlist #suga #jin #jungkook #jk #v #taehyung #yoongi #seokjin #jimin #jhope #hoseok #rm #namjoon #love #fluff #fanfiction #girlfriend #bts x you #bts x oc

[hydra-collector]

Let Me Go: Chapter 4

AO3 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Pairings: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

TW: suicide mention, cursing, depression, killing

Words: 1450

Summary: Fluffy + angsty chapter with a much-needed discussion.

“That was my sheep!”

“Finders keepers.”

“You didn’t keep it, you killed it!”

Both were laughing, despite the tragedy of Remus’s dead sheep meat. They’d managed to get Logan interested in Minecraft, and now they played it any chance they could together. They’d built a shared house by a lake, possible dreams for their future, though neither of them would say it.

“Wait, Logan, I was mining-”

Logan was kissing Remus’s cheek as he stole the diamonds his partner had discovered, keeping him distracted enough.

“Lo, my diamonds-”

Remus was crushed while trying to keep upright as they desperately attempted to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. Logan toppled over on them, crossed over their chest and face to face with them. Remus was awkwardly laying down on the couch with their legs bent and feet holding on to the cushion, hoping not to fall.

“We’re dating and this is awkward.”

“Not if I kiss you, Re.”

Logan smiled and pressed his lips to his partner’s, practically feeling them melt from the affection. They wrapped their arms around him, holding him close and tight. Logan dropped his controller and dug his hands into Remus’s hair, soft and fluffy. They broke from the kiss and Remus nuzzled their head into Logan’s shoulder, who dug his head in their hair.

“You’re hair looks so fluffy for it to be so oily,” Logan said, muffled.

“It’s my specialty.”

Remus kissed Logan, but this time with the limit of how far their head would turn. It ended up being placed on his jaw, which soon became his nose as he turned his head, surprised. Logan rolled over, giving Remus a chance to sit up a little more and him to look in their eyes. He leaned up to kiss them back on the nose, which they scrunched at.

“You’re adorable.”

“I’m the trash enby.”

“Logan’s trash enby, remember? That means I get to call you adorable.”

“Lo-Lo’s trash enby.”

“I don’t care for silly nicknames, Remus.”

“Yes you do, you’re blushing.”

“I’ve been blushing this whole time!”

“See, you’re blushing more!”

Remus gave him another small kiss on the nose.

“You’re blushing more now.”

“Remus-”

“You’re so fucking cute when you’re flustered, Lo-Lo.”

Logan’s cheeks somehow went redder, seemingly prompting Remus to kiss them.

“How many times will you kiss me before I’m free?”

“Until I can’t kiss you anymore.”

Remus began to live up to that promise, changing position so they and Logan were both lying on the couch. They kissed his cheek quickly a few times before giving him a longer kiss on the lips.

They laid, faces so close, bodies sharing warmth.

“Yknow, the only reason I brush my teeth is for you.”

“I feel so loved, Remus. My partner is doing basic actions for a human just for me.”

Remus’s face fell.

“Lo, I think we need to talk about that. Basic human actions. Taking care of yourself.”

“Remus, it’s fine, I’m going to be fine now.”

They brought their hand up to his cheek, cupping it softly.

“We both know that’s not how it works.”

Logan didn’t have any other response than taking Remus’s hand and rubbing it, avoiding looking at their face.

“Lo, what can I do to help you?”

“I don’t want to be your burden,” he replied softly.

“You won’t be. And if you ever are, I’ll tell you ‘this is affecting my own mental health.’ We’ll work it out. But now, I can help you, so I want to. I just need to know how.”

“You… being there for me is really helpful. I can forget for a little while and it brings me further from… the edge.”

“Why that day? Why did you decide to...”

“I guess it just stopped being life. When Virgil asked me why my leg was bleeding, I should’ve been scared. But I didn’t care. About anything. About my life.”

“Is now appropriate to give you a hug?”

“I could use one.”

It didn’t take much effort to move into a hugging position, and once they were there neither ever wanted to let go.

“What does it feel like? What drives you to that. Depression.”

“It feels like… well, I’ve seen it described a lot like a black dog, following you. I disagree. To me it’s like… these dark chains that tug at every inch of your being, exhausting you every day. Your arms, your legs, your mind, but most of all your heart. There’s just that neverending weight that you can revel in sometimes, even, but it’s crawling emptiness like a parasite just dragging you along. You begin to feel like you’re not even you, just a vessel for these black chains. And when it gets too much, death seems just as empty as you already are.”

Logan was surprised to hear a sob from Remus, and leaned back to see their face. He wiped away their tears but they shook their head.

“How do you live with that?”

“You don’t. It isn’t living.”

“How could my presence help with that at all?”

“Well, it does and it doesn’t. When you’re around, none of the weight is gone, the chains are still there, but I feel like you’re there, holding some up for me. That’s why it’s so easy to feel like I'm a burden. I feel like you’re sacrificing yourself to hold me up. I’ve managed this way for, what, four years already? Why should you-”

“Logan, you’ve felt this way for four years?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“When I first met you, you felt like this? I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. You should’ve told me.”

“...I was scared. But you did know, at least a little bit, right?”

“I guess. You had some obvious depressive episodes, but I didn’t know you actually wanted to- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Should I kiss you?”

Logan sighed, closing his eyes as he did so.

“You really should.”

They did so, Logan’s eyes still shut. He held on to their hand, just glad to feel them there. When it was over, Remus kissed his cheek and set their head on his shoulder for him to lean against. They were nearly going to fall asleep like that when they were interrupted by Logan’s mother.

“Logan! Remus! It’s eight already, Remus has to go home!”

“Fuck.”

They gazed, eyes just opened, at Logan’s half conscious face. They decided to cup his cheeks and kiss him awake.

“Hmm?”

“Your mother.”

“I bet we could fit in one more kiss, Re.”

“Hm. You complain about me calling you Lo-Lo but-”

They were interrupted by Logan’s lips meeting theirs for a moment.

“Shh. We don’t mention that.”

They both started chuckling softly, ignoring the second “Logan!” for a moment.

“It is time for you to go, though.”

Logan attempted to sit up, but found it more difficult than predicted.

“Oh. Right.”

“C’mon, I’ll help you.”

Remus helping him turned out to be carrying him bridal style and gently spinning around a few times before setting him in his wheelchair.

“Wow, you’re gonna spin me around when I have a medical balance issue?”

“You’ll be fine.”

Logan glanced at the abandoned controllers on the couch and Minecraft waiting for them to return.

“I take full responsibility for not playing Minecraft.”

“I’m not arguing. You stole my diamonds anyway, it was a lost cause.”

Remus and Logan found their way down the stairs somehow to be greeted by Logan’s mom.

“It’s 8:12 already! I’m not angry with you, but Remus has to get home. They live too far away for me to drive them back later than 8:30 or so. I’ll go get the keys, Remus, please get ready to leave.”

“Quick, before she comes back.”

Logan’s mother would approve of him dating Remus, but he still wasn’t out to her as asexual, so she’d likely be worried they would fuck or something. No more hanging out alone. Anyway, Remus considered it to be fun, having a secret relationship.

Remus leaned down and Logan kissed them sweetly and desperately. He needed it after talking about such heavy topics.

“We should have a sleepover at my house this weekend. We could kiss all night, Lo.”

“What if your parents found out?”

“All the more interesting.”

“Re-”

“Well, are you ready to go?”

Logan’s mom had become a bit of a second mother to Remus, whose parents were as LGBTphobic as they come. They couldn’t dream of coming out to them, so Logan’s family was what they had.

Logan felt bad for being so selfish, but it meant he had an excuse to hang out with Remus more often.

Logan blew them a kiss as they waved goodbye.

#sanders sides #sanders side fic #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #ts logan #ts remus #tw suicide mention #tw cursing #kissing #tw homophobia #tw transphobia #grays fics #let me go